“Your favorite medical examiner wants you to eat something this evening, understand?”
Natalie tries to wean Nick off the blood and onto regular people food, but it doesn’t go well.
Oh course you had to spit that out, Nick. That looks nasty. Come on guy, no one said you needed to cook your own dinner. I mean, have you ever cooked before? I’m guessing not. The last time you would have even needed to eat you barely had access to spices, if at all. You wouldn’t have even tasted sugar or vanilla. The last food you ate was probably nasty as hell.
Geez order a pizza or some pad thai or something. Find a waffle house. Have some hashbrowns and some crepes. Tacos and a milkshake. I dunno. Anything but that semi-edible hockey puck you’ve got there.
The Paradox Machine 