Dinner came, and with it a particularly classy faire: Lasagna with breadsticks. Jack was curious as to where precisely such a dinner had come from, and Jean had cheerfully told him that it was all thanks to the microwave. A little downtrodden, Jack had remarked on how civilization had advanced, where frozen ingots resembling food could be tossed into a box with a window for five minutes and out would come a meal fit for a king. Jean and Mary thought it was rather funny.
The meal passed in silence, and when Jack and Chastity were finished they made good their escape back to the entertainment room, there to resume their reading adventures. Unfortunately for Tom Clancy, Chastity was more interested in talking than allowing Jack to resume The Hunt for Red October. Jack, ever the polite young gentleman—or so his mother thought of him—gave Chastity his ear and was not surprised by Chastity’s first statement… or rather, question.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Jack had been expecting something else. “Come again?”
“What’s your favorite color!” she repeated. “Jeez, are you deaf?”
Jack shook his head. “Sorry, it just sort of threw me for a loop.”
“Mine’s maroon.”
“Maroon?”
“Yes, maroon. It’s a shade of red,” Chastity explained.
Jack rolled his eyes. “I know what sort of color maroon is, but… I thought you might have a favorite more like pink or yellow or orange or something.”
Chastity only looked at him. “You mean girly colors?” Jack’s answer was a blush and Chastity grinned. “I’ve always been more partial to the darker shades.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Jack pondered.
“Why, because I’m not a Goth?” Chastity asked. “Please; Goths aren’t the only ones who can appreciate dark colors or shades. I also happen to enjoy a good navy blue.” Jack shook his head in amazement. “So, what’s your favorite?”
Jack returned his attention to her. “Green.”
“Ooh, nice choice,” Chastity murmured approvingly. “Most guys say something like blue or black or something.”
“Do they?” Jack asked, curious.