[She took the opportunity to prep things? He stares at her for a moment, then brushes past up the path, clearly expecting her to follow.]
Taking it upon yourself to ready a meal? Supposing I have no reason to complain, seeing as how I've been telling you to pull your weight.
[But still a vaguely uncomfortable feeling, knowing that someone who is still mostly a stranger to him, tromping about his home, fussing with his things -- even if it's for something as mutually beneficial as prepping a meal.]
Come on. It's cold tonight.
[It'll be better if they hunker down indoors, where he can at least get a flame blazing in the hearth.
His lodge meets them at the top of the hill, large and crafted from dark wood, with a slanted rooftop. It's perhaps a bit too large for one person, yet far from overly ostentatious. There's still a practicality that exudes from the building itself, as though this home belongs to a man who does not seek to display himself as anything more than he is.
He leads them in through the front door. The interior greets them, and the first thing he does is move over to his desk, placing his bag down.]
What did you throw together? [Food-wise. She'd be a bit spoiled for choice if she really trawled through the market during the daylight hours; trade has been booming, and merchants bring back all manner of things from the city and beyond; produce, spices, and "exotic" dried or preserved meats and fish, even though Weir sees no issue with the venison garnered from the forests nearby.
Hopefully she didn't blow through all of his coin.] And how "ready" is it?
no subject
Taking it upon yourself to ready a meal? Supposing I have no reason to complain, seeing as how I've been telling you to pull your weight.
[But still a vaguely uncomfortable feeling, knowing that someone who is still mostly a stranger to him, tromping about his home, fussing with his things -- even if it's for something as mutually beneficial as prepping a meal.]
Come on. It's cold tonight.
[It'll be better if they hunker down indoors, where he can at least get a flame blazing in the hearth.
His lodge meets them at the top of the hill, large and crafted from dark wood, with a slanted rooftop. It's perhaps a bit too large for one person, yet far from overly ostentatious. There's still a practicality that exudes from the building itself, as though this home belongs to a man who does not seek to display himself as anything more than he is.
He leads them in through the front door. The interior greets them, and the first thing he does is move over to his desk, placing his bag down.]
What did you throw together? [Food-wise. She'd be a bit spoiled for choice if she really trawled through the market during the daylight hours; trade has been booming, and merchants bring back all manner of things from the city and beyond; produce, spices, and "exotic" dried or preserved meats and fish, even though Weir sees no issue with the venison garnered from the forests nearby.
Hopefully she didn't blow through all of his coin.] And how "ready" is it?
[does he still need to throw it all into a pot-]