If Miya really had been looking at him through clear eyes and not red tinted vision she might have noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the near predatory look he gives her. No, she wouldn't known how very close she was to making him snap that leash and yet, it was all speculation. Of course she couldn't know, she thought he was human, a very large and ruggedly handsome human but human all the same. She doesn't notice that dangerous glint in his eye or the growl that so desperately wants to crawl out of his throat, all she cares about in that moment was scolding him for nothing he did wrong. Yet, she was convinced that he had gotten her a job because he had made a phone call, that she hadn't earned it. It felt dirty and wrong to her, she didn't want to have an advantage in life because some rich guy pulled some strings. Although, it wouldn't be the first time Miya had misread someone's intentions and having overreacted. Her fuse had always been short but it never lasted long either, however it did make her far more brave than she should be. Even when Oliver's words are like ice, she doesn't back down, her gaze narrowing at him, she doesn't even know he wants to tackle her against the wall. What she is convinced of is that this guy was a jerk who threw around his power and money. But... her anger is blown out like a candle by a simple explanation.

Of course she feels a wide range of emotions, confusion, sadness, exhaustion, embarrassment... as she drops her hand from his chest only to wrap her arms around her petite body. Looking away from him she responds about the doctor who held a grudge against her, missing the way he dishevels his hair, an agitation almost seeming to linger within him. When he responds again, she peers up at him meekly, though the beginnings of redness begin to tint her cheeks, entirely embarrassed by her outrage. Giving him a slow nod, she entirely agreed with him and yet, it wasn't like she could just bring her issues to the board, they would have believed the doctor over her, he had been there for years and was loved by everyone. An accusation of a younger woman would not only make her look bad but she might have lost her job over it. Sighing, he doesn't outright apologize but all the same she takes it as one as she glances up at him, "I don't... trust easily," she winces, "I've ruined some friendships over the years because of it. I'm sorry I thought of your intentions as being bad," she says a bit quietly, glancing away before she begins to apologize rather profusely.

When he responds, she's almost surprised he doesn't ask for something, even when she admits she owed him for doing her a favor. It was... confusing to say the least. Most people always wanted to gain from someone else and here Oliver was saying he wanted nothing. She doesn't have a response ready for him by the time he agrees with her untrusting behavior, though she does wince a bit at the mention of her shortcoming. But... she believed him. What could one of the most powerful and richest men in the city gain from her? She was a doctor now but really, she wasn't anything important, didn't have anything to her name, nothing. All the same, she was surprised that she did believe him. A strange, rough around the edges guy but... she trusted his words. Not that she would tell him that out loud, but she does defer to him in a way she never had to anyone else. So, Miya simply gives him a nod, a sort of confirmation that she had heard him but was still processing. Yet, he does question her further, confusion causing her brows to furrow as she looks up at him, "My instincts? What do you mean? That I don't trust people?" She asks, pondering briefly, "I have a bad habit of not trusting anyone, that doesn't mean everyone is a terrible person, right?" She trails off before insisting he stays for dinner.

When he finally concedes and states he has a big appetite, she doesn't realize he's being absolutely serious about his comparison, but it does draw a small smile to her lips before she scurries away and returns with that wine. Handing it over, she notes that he had taken his shoes off and is almost surprised by the etiquette. Yes, she was raised to never wear shoes in the house but she never enforced it on anyone. She was thankful by such a notion before her gaze is claimed by him once again as he questions her. "Um...," she hesitates looking at the black bottle, "Oh, so that's how you pronounce it," she muses, "It is a... pinot noir," she tests the words on her tongue, successfully butchering it as she winces with embarrassment. "I don't foresee me speaking French in my near future," she laughs quietly to ease her mistake. It doesn't take long before she's bringing that liquid to her lips and she takes a drink. It wasn't quite as smooth as the wine she had in Dareios wine cellar but it was still good. A fleeting thought as her mind kept replaying the last twenty minutes in her apartment. How she jumped to conclusions! A fresh wave of pink tints her features as she takes another drink, quite nearly downing the whole glass this time.

"Please, have a seat. I'll bring everything out," she says moving back to the kitchen and finishing that first glass of wine in a matter of moments. Setting the glass on the counter, she can already feel the warmth blooming through her body, the poor girl so new to alcohol in general she didn't handle it well... at all. Gathering her dishes, she grabs her rice cooker and unplug its, carrying the items precariously through the kitchen and to the table. Setting it quickly, she places the cooker in the middle and scatters the sides on the surface. Each bowl containing different vegetable sides or a fermented vegetable. She doesn't say a word though she hums under her breath quietly to try and ease the situation that she had put them in. Miya, this time, grabs the bottle of wine and returns it to the kitchen, refilling her glass before she pulls out a pan and pours a bit of the alcohol into it. Lighting her stove, she gathers an array of items and adds it to the liquid, cranking the heat to let a rather delicious smell waft into the air. Grasping the stem of her wine glass, she takes another sip, allowing the liquid to loosen her up. "So... Oliver, what do you like... to do?" She asks, glancing over her shoulder at him, her nervousness getting the better of her as she stutters over her words.

Looking back down at her sauce that is quite nearly down, she finishes it and takes it off the heat before grabbing a bowl and carefully pouring the thick liquid into it. Though by carefully, her nerves are still getting the better of her as she shakes and that very hot liquid splashes against the tender flesh of the underside over her forearm. Flinching, she sets the pan down quickly, as a soft whimper escapes her before she rushes to the sink and runs the cold water over it. Sighing, she can already see the angry red mark on her pale skin, the blister that surely was going to happen. "Um...," she blushes as she glances back at Oliver, "Would you mind grabbing me my bag... it's on the couch," she asks tentatively.

Miyako Aiken