[Oh, yes. This is definitely a more firewood-and-coal set-up, the stove far more medieval than anything she might be used to seeing. But simple is fine — Weir does not fancy himself a cook more than he knows what goes together and what does not.]
Your cooking is fine.
[“Fine”, he says, which is perhaps the biggest compliment she will pry out of him right now. He eases himself over to the kitchen hearth and stove, bending down to reach out and light a fire. Embers fly out from his fingertips and gather in the coals.
Honestly, he just wanted to throw everything into a stew pot, the one hanging over a larger hearth, but whatever. If she wants to put in the work, he’ll not stop her. It’s not like she can poison him.]
Your home is rationing food? Is that what you mean?
[Not realizing she means the literal process of preservation. Meanwhile, as they chat, he’s going to cross back into the main area of the lodge, to light the central fire in the hearth.]
no subject
Your cooking is fine.
[“Fine”, he says, which is perhaps the biggest compliment she will pry out of him right now. He eases himself over to the kitchen hearth and stove, bending down to reach out and light a fire. Embers fly out from his fingertips and gather in the coals.
Honestly, he just wanted to throw everything into a stew pot, the one hanging over a larger hearth, but whatever. If she wants to put in the work, he’ll not stop her. It’s not like she can poison him.]
Your home is rationing food? Is that what you mean?
[Not realizing she means the literal process of preservation. Meanwhile, as they chat, he’s going to cross back into the main area of the lodge, to light the central fire in the hearth.]