He did as she said.
She brought a small bowl over to where he stood, then covered the pasta with sauce.
"Better?" she asked, handing it to him.
Valerius nodded, until his gaze dropped to the noodles. He blinked in disbelief as the shape of the pasta hit him.
No. Surely he was seeing things.
Was that a...?
His jaw went slack as he realized that it was what it appeared. Little tiny pasta penises were swimming in the red marinara.
"Oh, come on," Tabitha said in an irritable voice. "Don't tell me a Roman general is having trouble with penironi."
"You don't honestly expect me to eat this?" he asked, aghast.
She huffed at him. "Don't you dare cop that superior attitude with me, buddy. I happen to know exactly how you Romans lived. How you decorated your houses. You come from the land of the phallus, so don't act so shocked that I gave you a bowl of them to eat. It's not like I have the flying phallus wind chime hanging in my house to ward off evil or something, but I'll bet you did when you were human."
It was true, but it had been centuries since... come to think of it, he'd never seen anything like this.
She handed him a fork. "It's not silver, but it is stainless steel. I'm sure you can make do."
He was still mesmerized by the pasta. "Where did you get this?"
"I sell it and boobaroni in my shop."
"Boobaroni?"
"I think you can figure that one out."
Valerius didn't know what to say to that. He'd never eaten obscene food before-and just what kind of shop did she own that she sold such commodities inside it?
"House of Vetti," Tabitha said, arms akimbo. "Need I say more?"
Valerius was well-versed about the Roman house she spoke of, as well as its risque murals. True, his people had been rather overt with their sexuality, but he most certainly hadn't expected to come face to face with it in this modern age.
"Non sana est puella," Valerius said under his breath, which was Latin for This girl is insane.
"Quin tu istanc orationem hinc veterem antque antiquam amoves, vervex?" Tabitha shot back. Would you stop using that obsolete language, you sheep-head?
Never before had Valerius been both insulted and amused at the same time. "How is it you speak Latin so perfectly?"
She pulled a piece of toast from her oven. "I have a master's degree in Ancient Civ. My sister, Selena, has her Ph.D. in it. We thought it was a goof in college to insult each other in Latin."
"Selena Laurens? The lunatic with a tarot-card table in the Square?"
She gave him a fierce glare. "That loon happens to be my beloved big sister and if you insult her again, you'll be limping... more."
Valerius bit his tongue as he made his way to her table in the dining room. He'd met Selena several times over the last three years, and none of those encounters had gone well. When Acheron had first mentioned her, Valerius had been delighted at the prospect of having someone to talk to who knew his culture and language.
But as soon as Acheron had introduced them, Selena had tossed her drink into Valerius's face. She had called him every insult known to mankind and had even made up quite a few new ones.
He didn't know why Selena hated him so much. All she would say is that it was a shame he hadn't died under a barbarian stampede, ripped to pieces.
And that was one of her kinder wishes for his death.
It would most likely please her a great deal to know his real death had been far more humiliating and painful than any of her rants.