(Queenie sniffs air and scrunches up her nose.)
Oh, the pungent smell of tomatoes. Such a horrid fruit, they are.
Hello, Gio, Cosimo, Chaos and Rita. (nods towards them politely, her cheeks a bright scarlet from post feeding.)
Gio, I will personal buy you a cook book with blood recipes if you don't make something edible for m--the rest of us.