Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 92: Funny how

"This smells funny"

Freya said, her voice clear, the black mask that usually hugged her mouth now resting loosely around her neck, revealing her full lips, pursed in distaste.

She leaned forward, her platinum-cyan hair catching the light, the white sun hat Kael had bought her tilted rakishly on her head, its brim casting a soft shadow over her blue eyes..

Kael, seated across from her, took a bite of his own chicken, chewing thoughtfully, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement.

"Funny how?" he asked, his tone light, his dark jacket slung over the chair, his jeans sightly scuffed from their morning trek.

"Tastes fine to me. Bit salty, maybe." He speared another piece, unfazed, his grin teasing as he watched her dissect her meal with a fork, her movements precise, almost surgical.

Freya huffed, pushing a limp piece of lettuce aside, her mask shifting slightly as she spoke.

"It’s... off. Like they cooked it in old oil or something. And this sauce?" She dipped a finger into the brownish glaze, sniffing it before wiping it on a napkin.

"Tastes like regret." Her eyes flicked to Kael, sharp but playful, inviting him to agree.

Kael chuckled, swallowing another bite, his gaze lingering on her, noting the way her sophisticated taste shone through, even in a cheap diner.

"You’re picky, you know that?" he said, leaning back, his voice warm. "Not every place is a five-star bistro, Freya. This is good enough for a decent lunch."

She rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smirk.

"Good enough? Kael, I’ve had better street food in back alleys."

She stabbed a piece of chicken, holding it up like evidence.

"This is a crime against flavor. Let me go to my base, grab my debit card. I’ll treat you to a real meal—high-end, expensive, the kind of place where the food doesn’t make you question your life choices."

Her voice was earnest, her blue eyes sparkling with the promise of luxury.

Kael’s laugh was soft, his grin widening, though a flicker of curiosity crossed his mind—her wealth, her ease with money, always a reminder of her darker days.

"My taste buds are more at home in places like this," he said, gesturing to the restaurant around them, his tone easy but firm. "Small, cheap, no pretensions. Besides, I’m paying today. You can dazzle me with your fancy restaurants another time."

The restaurant was a cozy but worn diner tucked into a busy city street, its faded red booths cracked, the air thick with the scent of fried oil and coffee.

Checkered tablecloths, stained from years of use, covered wobbly tables, and a jukebox in the corner played a tinny pop tune, barely audible over the clink of cutlery and chatter from other patrons—construction workers, students, a tired waitress weaving between tables with a pot of coffee.

The walls were plastered with peeling posters of vintage cars and local bands, the windows smudged, letting in slants of late-morning sunlight that danced on the linoleum floor.

A ceiling fan spun lazily, stirring the warm air, the hum blending with the sizzle of a grill behind the counter, where a cook flipped burgers with practiced ease.

Freya leaned forward, her voice dropping, a teasing edge to it.

"You’re too stubborn, Kael. I’ve got plenty of money. You’d love it—linen napkins, wine that costs more than your rent, food that melts in your mouth." She tilted her head, her hat casting a darker shadow over her eyes, her smirk accentuating the mischief in her gaze.

Kael’s grin faltered, a question forming, his curiosity piqued.

"Speaking of that money," he said, his tone careful, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you even have a debit card? You’re a villain—any account in your name should be frozen, blocked by now."

Freya’s smirk widened, her eyes glinting with a spark of her old defiance, the woman who’d once ruled her world without rules.

"Kael, I was a villain," she said, her voice low, almost a purr.

"There are shady ways to get anything—bank accounts included. Fake names, stolen credentials, a few bribes. You’d be surprised how easy it is when you don’t play by the rules." She leaned back, her posture relaxed, her words laced with a dangerous allure, a reminder of her past life’s temptations.

Kael raised a brow, his grin returning, though her words stirred a mix of admiration and caution.

"Tempting, huh?" he said, his voice light but probing. "No rules, stacks of cash, shady deals to get whatever you want. Sounds like a villain’s paradise."

Why does it sound a bit familiar?

Freya’s eyes softened, a flicker of something deeper—regret, maybe, or resolve—passing through them.

"Sometimes it’s tempting," she admitted, her voice quieter, her fingers tracing the edge of her plate. "But I’m done with that life."

She flashed a smile, her face unreadable but her eyes warm, her hero path—Frost Flake—a fire burning beneath her words.

Kael nodded, his gaze steady, understanding the weight of her choice, the pull of her past against her new future.

He took a final bite, the chicken tough but edible, and pushed his plate aside, the meal nearing its end.

The waitress cleared their plates, her apron stained, her smile weary, and Kael leaned forward, his voice casual but curious.

"So, what’s next? Wanna hit another shop, visit somewhere else? Anything you want—except your base," he added, his grin teasing. "Starting tomorrow, you’ll be busy with superhero work, Frost Flake."

Freya’s hand stretched across the table, her fingers brushing his, then closing gently, her touch warm, her skin smooth.

Her cheeks flushed, a soft pink beneath her pale complexion, her blue eyes bright, almost shy. Kael’s brow furrowed, his grin softening.

"What?" he asked, his voice low, sensing she had something specific in mind, her blush a rare crack in her commanding presence.

She rubbed his hand, her thumb tracing slow circles, her voice dropping to a whisper, her eyes locked on his.

"I want to go to the place where you got those toys," she said, her words deliberate, weighted with intent. "The ones you used on me... when I lost that challenge."

Kael’s throat tightened, his pulse quickening, a gulp betraying his composure.

The sex toy shop.

He cleared his throat, his grin awkward but intrigued, his hazel eyes searching hers.

"You sure about that, Freya?" he asked, his voice a mix of caution and amusement.

"Yes"