[He gives her a slightly disapproving look and follows her into the kitchens, where he proceeds to open all the cupboards to see what he's dealing with.]
[She hesitated a few moments before going and retrieves few vegetables from the fridge. Nothing fancy, an onion and some carrots and celery, but good for stew.]
I'm not very good at it. The last time I tried it didn't work out. It's easier to let humans do it.
[She makes a bit of a sour face at him, but will do as he says. Chopping vegetables isn't that hard at least, she's used knives for long enough that she can do a good job of that.]
[He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't bother to make comment, focusing instead on the task. It's not a fancy stew, he just teaches her how to braise the meat and make a simple gravy, and then thicken it all up. But it'll taste serviceable, and feed her for a few days.]
There-- now get that inside you, and then get some rest. My Ma always used to say that all problems looked better from the other side of the bed.
[And now her Story is part cookbook! She looks pretty displeased during the whole thing but she at least listens, and it's hard to deny that when they're finished it all smells delicious.]
... Right. [That's got to be a cheap shot, bringing up his mother.] I promise I'll eat it and sleep.
[She's mostly saying that so he doesn't insist on sticking around to make sure she does both. Sleeping doesn't sound so bad right now, though she'll probably wind up mostly poking at the stew and feeding it to the tribbles.]
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Do you even know how to make anything?
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[That... is not helpful. At all.]
He was a bit of a neandertal, sometimes.
[The kitchen is at least stocked with all the typical things found in a Meadous kitchen, and the fridge is full of meat.]
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[He grabs some meat out of the fridge and starts dicing it.]
If even I can cook better than you, that's not good.
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Cooking is something humans do, not animals.
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[He's seen her do it a bunch of times.]
That makes it something you do too.
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[Still, she leans in.]
What are you going to make?
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[He's not exactly a culinary genius, most of his cooking is self taught on the run.]
And you know that's a stupid argument. If animals had the tools and the thumbs for cooking meat, they'd do it themselves.
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I'm not very good at it. The last time I tried it didn't work out. It's easier to let humans do it.
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[It's affectionate, but just a little bit disbelieving that she's managed to spend this many years without picking up even a few culinary skills.]
Chop everything up and throw it in the pan.
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I'm your assistant, now?
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[He has better things to do with his time, like brooding in dark corners.]
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[She isn't worth that much effort, especially after what happened.]
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[He would do it if he had to, if she wouldn't eat otherwise. But he's hoping that she's not quite that low.]
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[She might not have much of an appetite now, but they're still little garbage disposals.]
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There-- now get that inside you, and then get some rest. My Ma always used to say that all problems looked better from the other side of the bed.
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... Right. [That's got to be a cheap shot, bringing up his mother.] I promise I'll eat it and sleep.
[She's mostly saying that so he doesn't insist on sticking around to make sure she does both. Sleeping doesn't sound so bad right now, though she'll probably wind up mostly poking at the stew and feeding it to the tribbles.]
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He reaches down and rests a hand on the top of her head briefly, rubbing fingers through her hair.]
You'll be okay, Renart.
[And then he'll head for the door.]