Vasil peered around the counter then made another note. “I’m assuming there’s somewhere I can buy cookware?”

“Of course. Istanbul isn’t exactly a backwater.” Once it had been the center of the world.

“Vasil snorted. “I meant close by. You’re lacking any sizable pot or skillet, and I hate cooking for just one.”

Except that Vasil would not be staying. A bitter knot formed in Altan’s throat. “Yes, of course. There’s a shopping district nearby that will have what you’re looking for.”

Vasil continued to make notes. “Is there anything you won’t eat?”

“Not particularly.” He waited a moment. “Vasil—”

He stopped writing. “Please don’t give up on me.”

Altan exhaled.

“I know that look, you see. I’ve spent the past two years cheek to jowl with people and you learn these things.”