For now, I didn't care.
I opened the refrigerator.
Four beef filets wrapped in butcher paper. Root vegetables. Fresh herbs. Butter. And—I almost laughed—a six-pack of American craft beer.
Perfect.
I glanced back at Ellsworth, who was hovering. Curious.
"Is it okay to use the steaks?"
"Of course. Consider anything yours to use."
I grinned. "You want one?"
"Not this time. Though, I am curious."
I got to work.
Cooking was something my mother had done. Before St. Paul's. Before everything went to hell. She'd moved through the kitchen with precision I'd later learned to apply to violence—measuring, timing, adjusting on instinct.
I'd watched more than helped. But I'd absorbed it.
And thanks to my travels, I'd picked up skills. There were intangible benefits in my line of work. Small pleasures in places where pleasure was scarce.
Cooking was one.
I seasoned the filets simply—salt, pepper. Set them on the counter while I preheated cast iron until it was almost smoking. Chopped vegetables—carrots, parsnips, potatoes—tossed them with olive oil and thyme, slid them into the oven.
The sear was perfect. That satisfying sizzle as meat hit hot iron. I flipped them once, added butter and crushed garlic, basted until medium-rare.
Ellsworth drifted closer.
I plated one filet, added vegetables, cut a small piece.
"Here." I held it out on a fork. "Proof I'm no slouch."
Ellsworth accepted it, chewing thoughtfully. A slight nod.
"Next time, I will take a filet."
I smiled.
"But for now, there's work to be done. I'll be back in a few hours. Make yourself at home. Bedrooms upstairs. Pick whichever you'd like."
He left quietly, the front door closing with that heavy thunk.
I ate slowly, savoring every bite. Cleaned up, washing dishes by hand.
Then, I went upstairs.
Five bedrooms, all immaculate. I chose the corner room—two windows, clear sightlines to the street.
Old habits.
The shower was exactly what I needed. Hot water, good pressure, steam filling the bathroom. I stood under the spray longer than necessary, letting tension bleed away.
Afterward, I meant to nap.
