"Looks like a jerk," Henry Sullivan turned around and continued packing his things, "I haven't had dinner yet, can you cook?"
Ivy Miller stuck out her tongue, "Not really, I rarely cook here."
Henry Sullivan was speechless, "As a woman, what exactly are you good at?"
Ivy Miller thought, this guy really looks down on her now.
"I have a great figure."
He glanced at her, that was true.
"That's the asset given to you by your parents, I'm asking about your acquired skills."
Ivy Miller pouted, "I only said I'm not great at it, I didn't say I can't do it at all, geez."
She got up with a disgruntled look and walked into the kitchen.
Henry Sullivan smiled, just waiting to see what kind of first meal his wife would make for him.
He looked around the room and started rolling up his sleeves to clean.
A dozen minutes later, Ivy Miller came out with a bowl of noodles, and Henry Sullivan frowned just by smelling it.
