A Steady Situation 2, Part 3

Moonlight bled through the windows like boiling water through a teabag.

So, I guess it’s you who’s been cooking.

Yeah, I like doing these kinds of things. How’ve you found it?

Pretty good, I have to say. I’m sure you’ve made our host happy.

He beamed, chopping up a bunch of spring onions and ginger. She noticed he was wearing a pair of gloves and an extra layer of clothes. It was unusual, since the night was exceptionally warm. He gave the slightly nervous impression of a hypochondriac.

I s’pose you’re not one for big groups either.

Me? No, I definitely prefer quiet, dark rooms a lot more.

Oh, interesting. Does that mean you’re something like an artist, then?

Don’t make me laugh, I’m an architect. I couldn’t draw creatively for anything.

Wow. Why bother, though, when you’re that talented?

Well, let me show you my talent for guessing. I bet you’re something leaning towards an art-isan, and from your accent, you’re not from around here either.

I’m impressed.

I think you are, and that’s very confusing to me.

I mean, you’ve just met me. I think it’s impressive for sure. Would you do me a favour, and see if this’ seasoned alright?

I’m honoured. For… The last time I heard people that loud, I was outside a colosseum.

He’d been chopping manically the whole time, but just now managed to cut himself.

That looks really bad.

It did, indeed. He shielded it away from the food, and over to the sink.

Are you alright? You look kind of bemused.

Yep, fine, I can’t believe I did that.

I’m going to go see if there’s any cloth about the place. Oh, by the way…

Yeah?

The food’s perfect.