"Do I like olives?" Veritas repeated the question you had just asked him.

You were surprised he'd even agreed to go on this date with you — usually, he was always busy and occupied with loads of paperwork pertaining to mathematics. Or anything of that sort, it wasn't like you had a clue what was it he spent so much time on.

You set aside the olives on your plate; looking up at him intently. Olives were never really your thing — yet recently you've heard about the olive theory, and you just had to know if your boyfriend disliked them or not.

"Don't be foolish," he scoffed. "Is this one of your other theories with no basis?"

You knew he disliked things of that matter; he always preferred theories to be actually proven rather than being silly little assumptions. Veritas could've scolded you for your ignorance right there — but he was stopped by the sight of you picking olives out of your food.

"To answer your question, yes. I enjoy olives." Veritas answered in a gruff murmur. "Give yours to me, I'll eat them."