Disclaimer: Human Target not mine. Sick sense of humour definitely is.
Author's note 25/10/2011: So although I posted this five months ago I'm updating it to include one word that was missing. It bugged someone enough to comment on it, so here it is.
"Guerrero, please tell me that's not what I think it is…" Chance said.
"Depends what you think it is." Guerrero replied using his chopsticks to pop another morsel of stir-fried meat into his mouth. He smiled as Chance wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"It was bad enough talking Winston down from the ceiling when he found out what was in those takeout boxes, have you spared a moment to consider what Ilsa would do if she found out?" Chance asked.
Guerrero sniggered and helped himself to another mouthful. Chance felt nauseated even thinking about the contents of Guerrero's meal but somehow couldn't tear his eyes away.
"Is it even fresh?" Chance asked. He really didn't want to know but somehow the question slipped out of its own accord.
"Why? You want some?" Guerrero asked. Chance paled and shook his head. Guerrero shrugged.
"Your loss."
"I still don't get why you eat that." Chance said.
"Waste not want not I guess." Guerrero continued eating but suddenly looked and stuck a finger in his mouth to locate the small hard lump he'd just bitten down on. He spat it out and inspected it. "Damn shotgun pellets. It's kinda funny though."
"Why?" Chance knew he'd regret asking.
"Because for once my 'Chinese' actually contains you know, Chinese meat."
Chance thought it was somehow worse knowing which of the hired thugs they'd recently dealt with had become Guerrero's meat of the day. He finally couldn't stomach watching him eat any more and fled the kitchen.
Guerrero smiled and continued his meal.