They dug in without restraint.
"It's not breakfast," Monica said, taking a bite of the soufflé first like a rule-breaker. "It's a celebration."
"It's damage control," Rex corrected her through a mouthful of tartare. "We burned off at least a week's worth of calories last night."
"So," he asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow as he cut into a slice of toast piled high with caviar and crème fraîche. " "Don't actresses have to feed on grass and air to maintain their figures? How can you eat all this and still look like that?"
