[it's at this moment that jondy, quite suddenly, decides that her nap is over and jumps down to the floor — and it's in the next that she sits at cassian's feet, looking up at him expectantly. he can't help the quiet, short-lived laugh that escapes him as he gets up.]
Right now, she's glad I'm here to feed her something.
[not untrue, of course; that much is easy to judge by how she seems satisfied to trot off toward the kitchen when he starts making his own way there.]
[ true to her word, she arrives back at her place within a little less than an hour, a bag of the requested groceries in hand. she also took it upon herself to pick up a small bag of treats for jondy and a bottle of wine from a store she knows to be reputable (as in, they won't spell or drug what they sell). ]
[true to his word, too, cassian is in the kitchen when max arrives — and it looks, and smells, as though he's been there for a while. there's a pot going on the stove, steam pouring out from over the top of it, and there's sweat on his forehead.
the step he's on has ten minutes left, at least, so he turns away from it and walks toward her, a smile starting to pull on his mouth.]
Hey.
[it's easy, strangely so, just like being here. he's still not sure what to do with any of that, though, so —
[ she returns the smile with a playful one of her own before she sets the bottle on the counter, along with the bag containing the rest of the items she was asked to pick up. the milk gets picked up so she can put it in the refrigerator, then she returns to start taking the vegetables he'd requested out of the bag. ]
Any of these in particular you wanted to use before I put them away?
[without really knowing it, his eyes land on her smile, watching it for a moment — maybe a moment too long. she turns to set the bottle and the bag on the counter, and cassian ducks his head, needing that space, that shifted focus, to return to himself. it isn't long, though, before he steps closer to the counter, examining.
after some consideration, he collects the carrots, broccoli, and squash, moving them for washing and cutting.]
[ she doesn’t notice the attention, turning a moment too quickly to catch how his gaze lingers on her smile. by the time she’s turned back around, he’s made his selection, and she collects the rest of what she’d picked up to place them in the fridge. ]
What is it you’re making? [ she stands once she’s put the rest of the vegetables away, standing by the vegetables he’s set aside and looking them over, wondering how they’re going to mix with what she can already smell cooking. ] Anything I can do to assist?
It's a stir-fry. [his attention, now, is absorbed in what he's laid out in front of him, his mouth set in a line as he concentrates.] I think I have most of what I need to get to what I know.
[the dish, not altogether complicated, had been something he'd learned on mimban a long time ago, and had made many times since. not altogether complicated, and therefore difficult to mess up, but these ingredients aren't all quite the same.
it's only when max comes back to stand in his space that cassian allows his attention to drift, his gaze to be drawn up again. and, just looking at her — the small, soft smile can't help but tug on his mouth again.]
If we both work on the vegetables, we'll have more time while everything simmers.
[ stir-fry is never something she's going to complain about, so when he mentions that's the dish he's working on she nods, moving to wash them when he advises to work on the vegetables. ]
Where'd you learn to cook? [ she's capable of multiple dishes that are a step or two outside of the basics or a couple of very fancy ones logan had helped guide her on and absolutely nothing in-between, and she wonders where his skillset veers more towards. ]
[with max taking some of the vegetables to wash, cassian gets to work on finding a knife to cut them as they're done. it's a companionable sort of silence, and something in him could relax like he hasn't in years, maybe ever. only —
her question derails that right where it stands. for a moment, he freezes.
not long enough to be noticeable (he has a knife in hand, ready to chop), but he does have to swallow before answering.]
I learned to help my mother, when she started to get sicker. There was a lot she stopped being able to do on her own as well, especially after my father died.
[it's not, actually, a lie — it just isn't the whole truth.]
[ starting with the broccoli, max washes it carefully as he explains, her expression growing solemn when he brings up how his mother had been ill and his father had died. whether it's the whole truth or not, there's clearly enough in it for him to be emotional about it, and it's hard to lose anyone you were that close to.
for a second she's reminded of daniel cooking in her apartment when he first came to visit her, and she ducks her head, busying herself with washing the carrots next. ]
I'm sorry. [ it feels like a dumb thing to respond with, but she's not sure what else there is to say. ]
[pointedly, cassian doesn't look max's way at all, instead keeping his eyes only on the broccoli as he takes it from her, as he takes the knife and begins to methodically chop, his face expressionless. enough time passes to where there might be a question of whether he'll provide an acknowledgement at all, but eventually he lifts one shoulder in a shrug, says,]
It was a long time ago.
[his voice is tighter than he wants it to be, in spite of his best efforts to prevent it.
(there's only so much he can do, especially when there's a related wound much fresher here than he'd like to acknowledge.)]
[ she's quiet as she continues with the carrots, glancing briefly as the time after what she's said stretches and she wonders if he's going to say anything at all. he doesn't have to, of course, and she's not expecting him to, but he eventually does. the tone of his voice makes her want to set the vegetables down and reach for his hand, but she holds back, not sure if that would make things better or worse.
finishing with the carrots, she sets them aside, starting on washing the squash. ]
[the silence that she doesn't end gives him time, gives him space, to rebuild what he needs to, bit by bit. as he continues to chop, the repetitive monotony of that helps, too; when he has a task, a job, it's easier to not focus on what he can't change.
with the broccoli done, he moves on to the carrots, making quick work of them before setting them aside. he's ready, more than ready, for the squash by the time she's done washing it.]
Half the time, [he tells her, a firm (and pointed) shift in his voice toward something lighter.] I was right.
[ having finished with the vegetables, max washes her own hands and finds a towel to dry them off with, pushing an errant strand of her hair off her forehead before she turns back to him, raising an eyebrow. ]
[he takes the last of what she hands off, slicing them just like the rest.]
About this being faster. [balancing the knife and the vegetables on top of the cutting board, he walks over to the pot on the stove. after scraping the vegetables in, he glances at max over his shoulder.] About there being time left before it's ready.
[he stirs the contents in the pot for a time, and once he's satisfied with the consistency, at least for now, he flips the burner on the stove down to a simmer and turns away, taking a few steps closer.]
Maybe I should have your assistance more often.
[(to the question of is he trying to flirt instead of go back to anything that had just been mentioned, the answer is yes)]
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Right now, she's glad I'm here to feed her something.
[not untrue, of course; that much is easy to judge by how she seems satisfied to trot off toward the kitchen when he starts making his own way there.]
I can have something ready for you, too.
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need me to pick something up?
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[not to @ her about what she typically keeps around here, but like. he is.]
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any in particular?
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[he gives this a little more thought before he adds:]
Squash.
Better to have options.
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anything else?
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You're out of milk.
[he's helping.]
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[ she knows she had it for her coffee this morning... ]
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anything else? i’m on my way back now.
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[but he does another sweep of the fridge, one more time, just to be sure.]
And I have enough to start with until you get back.
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[ true to her word, she arrives back at her place within a little less than an hour, a bag of the requested groceries in hand. she also took it upon herself to pick up a small bag of treats for jondy and a bottle of wine from a store she knows to be reputable (as in, they won't spell or drug what they sell). ]
Honey, I'm home.
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the step he's on has ten minutes left, at least, so he turns away from it and walks toward her, a smile starting to pull on his mouth.]
Hey.
[it's easy, strangely so, just like being here. he's still not sure what to do with any of that, though, so —
his eyes go to the bottle of wine, brow lifting.]
I don't remember that being on the list.
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[ she returns the smile with a playful one of her own before she sets the bottle on the counter, along with the bag containing the rest of the items she was asked to pick up. the milk gets picked up so she can put it in the refrigerator, then she returns to start taking the vegetables he'd requested out of the bag. ]
Any of these in particular you wanted to use before I put them away?
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after some consideration, he collects the carrots, broccoli, and squash, moving them for washing and cutting.]
These. They'll make the right flavor.
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What is it you’re making? [ she stands once she’s put the rest of the vegetables away, standing by the vegetables he’s set aside and looking them over, wondering how they’re going to mix with what she can already smell cooking. ] Anything I can do to assist?
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[the dish, not altogether complicated, had been something he'd learned on mimban a long time ago, and had made many times since. not altogether complicated, and therefore difficult to mess up, but these ingredients aren't all quite the same.
it's only when max comes back to stand in his space that cassian allows his attention to drift, his gaze to be drawn up again. and, just looking at her — the small, soft smile can't help but tug on his mouth again.]
If we both work on the vegetables, we'll have more time while everything simmers.
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Where'd you learn to cook? [ she's capable of multiple dishes that are a step or two outside of the basics or a couple of very fancy ones logan had helped guide her on and absolutely nothing in-between, and she wonders where his skillset veers more towards. ]
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her question derails that right where it stands. for a moment, he freezes.
not long enough to be noticeable (he has a knife in hand, ready to chop), but he does have to swallow before answering.]
I learned to help my mother, when she started to get sicker. There was a lot she stopped being able to do on her own as well, especially after my father died.
[it's not, actually, a lie — it just isn't the whole truth.]
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for a second she's reminded of daniel cooking in her apartment when he first came to visit her, and she ducks her head, busying herself with washing the carrots next. ]
I'm sorry. [ it feels like a dumb thing to respond with, but she's not sure what else there is to say. ]
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It was a long time ago.
[his voice is tighter than he wants it to be, in spite of his best efforts to prevent it.
(there's only so much he can do, especially when there's a related wound much fresher here than he'd like to acknowledge.)]
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finishing with the carrots, she sets them aside, starting on washing the squash. ]
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with the broccoli done, he moves on to the carrots, making quick work of them before setting them aside. he's ready, more than ready, for the squash by the time she's done washing it.]
Half the time, [he tells her, a firm (and pointed) shift in his voice toward something lighter.] I was right.
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Oh yeah? About what?
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About this being faster. [balancing the knife and the vegetables on top of the cutting board, he walks over to the pot on the stove. after scraping the vegetables in, he glances at max over his shoulder.] About there being time left before it's ready.
[he stirs the contents in the pot for a time, and once he's satisfied with the consistency, at least for now, he flips the burner on the stove down to a simmer and turns away, taking a few steps closer.]
Maybe I should have your assistance more often.
[(to the question of is he trying to flirt instead of go back to anything that had just been mentioned, the answer is yes)]
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