I didn’t dress quite as comfortably as yesterday, aiming for something between professional-glam and practical. Leggings again, with a nice top, and ankle boots. These ones still had a heel on them, but they were low and chunky and would do much better walking around than my knee-high ones.
One thing I hadn’t brought with me was my hairdryer, and my hair after the bath had dried in a big brown-and-blonde spray of crimped waves. I swept it all up in a bun on the top of my head, then added some dangly, silver hoop earrings. I thought about putting on some of my signature red lipstick, but decided against it, since I hadn’t eaten or brushed my teeth yet.
My stomach did a weird and unexpected little flippy-dip when I prepared to head out into the kitchen. I chose to ignore the fact that it was likely about seeing my big, grumpy roommate this morning. And it was an entirely pointless moment of abdominal acrobatics anyway, because Warden Hallum wasn’t in the kitchen. I took the opportunity to make use of the outhouse, then came back in, washing my hands at the kitchen sink. My Valentine’s mug from mylolawas ready to use on the counter, which made me smile.
One of my cans of instant coffee was also ready. Which made me smile even bigger.
By the time Warden Hallum returned from whatever he’d been doing outside (maybe he’d had a nice morning lurking under another window) I’d already had two cups of coffee.Breakfast was well underway, pancakes this time, made from a mix I’d brought.
“Good morning!” I said brightly. “Ignore those.” I aimed my rainbow spatula at a crumbly mess on the plate beside the stove. “Those were my practise pancakes.”
If he was unfamiliar with pancakes, he didn’t show it or bother asking about it. I guessed “pancake” translated well enough for him, since it was such a literal description of the food. Instead, all he said was, “You are up early.”
“Am I?” I glanced at the window. The sun had been up since I’d awoken. “It doesn’t seem that early.”
“Compared to yesterday.” He closed the door behind him, taking a moment to wipe his mucky boots off on the mat there. Under his arm was a big bundle of logs, which he set down beside the stove.
“Oh, yeah. I was just recovering.”
I thought I heard the swift intake of a sharp breath, but over the sound of the sizzling pan, I couldn’t quite be sure. But I definitely heard his reply, an urgent sort of demand as he stepped towards me.
“Were you ill?”
“No, no! Nothing like that. Just from the journey and everything.”
“And everything” of course included my entire life getting turned upside down in the space of about two seconds. But I chose not to include that part. I flipped the current pancake. It landed perfectly. “Yes! This one’s almost done. You can have it.”
“You take the first portion,” he insisted, but I shook my head, delighted at the way my hoops clanged coolly against my jaw.
“I already ate most of the practise ones. I’ll have the next one after you.”
He seemed satisfied enough with that. When the pancake was ready, I spread some butter from his cellar on it, thengave it a good glug of Terratribe II maple syrup I’d brought with me. Like yesterday, he ate with an expressionless intensity, shovelling the food into his mouth like it was nothing more than fuel to be dumped into an engine.
“What do you think of that one?” I asked.
“It is very sweet,” he said.
I chucked more batter into the pan. “Yes, maple syrup is known for that. Do you like sweet?”
His grey eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“I do not know,” he finally said. “I do not really see the point of it.”
“The point of…sugar? The sugar is the point!” I huffed out a little laugh. “It’s to make things taste good!”
He said nothing in response to that, as if needing some quiet time to mull over this new and shocking idea that food should actually taste good and could be a pleasure all unto itself. But then again, in terms of the Hallum Hierarchy of Needs, I was willing to bet that pleasure took up the smallest section. If it was even there at all.
No sex. No sugar.
The man had lived like a monk. If a monk was in the military.
No wonder he looked so goddamn tense all the time.
It made me want to unwind some of that tension in him. I wanted to light upon every one of his senses, like a little bird on hard branches. I wanted to feed him more good food. And expose him to other new, fun experiences, too.
Like…
Not sex. Definitely not that. That would be highly inappropriate.
