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“Are cows hard to hunt?” Rye wanted to know. Maybe he intended to go out and spear one for himself.

“You don’t hunt cows.” Lord, the Light Phases really did need to get out more. They were backwards, badly-groomed men, who rarely interacted with other Phases and avoided humans altogether. They might as well come from another planet.

Finding them Matches was going to be a colossal challenge.

Even the Light Phases realized that their dating prospects were dim. They’d agreed to maybe help her with the stalker. If they did, Randa would help them find mates. It was a straightforward plan, but she could tell the Light Phases were already braced for its failure.

None of them seemed excited or were asking her any questions about prospective women. It occurred to her that they didn’t want to get their hopes up. They were scared to start believing it was possible to have Matches of their own. That kind of self-defeating attitude would only manifest bachelorhood.

Randa would need to take command. Every aspect of dating needed to be outlined and presented to them in idiot-proof language. Otherwise they’d screw it up. A good first lesson would be explaining some very basic facts about human culture. Like what food was.

“The humans breed cows for meat and milk. They’re domesticated.”

Kahn scoffed, as if not hunting your food was pathetic. Those black eyes stayed on her and not the TV. If he was quizzed about it later, Randa had no doubt he would’ve been able to recount every move she made when preparing her meal.

Randa pretended not to notice.

By the time Antiques Roadshow was over, she had fresh green beans, hot cornbread, and a medium steak. Randa neatly folded her napkin, poured herself a glass of iced tea, and arranged her silverware like she was getting ready for a banquet. Cost aside, she really should cook for herself more often. It was relaxing and pleasant to sit down to a freshly made meal. Like with so much else in life, if you didn’t take care of yourself, no one else would do it for you.

She set up her meal on the island, ignoring the Light Phases’ gloomy looks.

“My mother used to cook a dish like that.” Julius remarked, watching as she poured honey on the cornbread. “Out of lryee seeds and cream.”

Rye nodded and chewed his jerky with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “Mine, too. I had forgotten about that. It was always my favorite as a child.”

Randa made an “um” sound of polite disinterest and ate her cornbread.

Kahn crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at her. “You cook like this every day?” He demanded, suspecting that she was trolling them.

“I did when Hekktor was alive.” She cut off a hunk of steak with a flourish that would’ve done any cooking show host proud. “Just sometimes, now.”

“When is ‘sometimes’ exactly?”

“Well, when I have company, I, of course, prepare a nice meal and offer it to them. It’s only polite.” She gave a philosophical shrug. “My grandmother Viola would expect me to be cordial, even to the Light Phases.” She popped the bite of steak into her mouth. “Too bad you weren’t hungry.”

He brooded while he watched her eat. “Your grandmother didn’t like Light Phases?”

Did anyone like Light Phases? Randa doubted it. “My grandmother valued good breeding.” She murmured diplomatically.

Kahn’s eyes narrowed.

Randa still didn’t smirk. …But it was a struggle.

“Cooking in our House is very ritualized.” Julius interjected, eyeing the T-bone like it was a Playboy centerfold. “It’s safer that way. No one can poison us.”

“Considering your personalities, I’m sure that’s very wise.”

Kahn pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something to himself in the Light Phases’ guttural dialect. Randa didn’t need to speak the language to know it probably wasn’t flowery compliments about her personality. Rye sent Kahn another odd look though, so whatever he was grumbling about must have been at least somewhat unexpected.

“Light Phases prefer to sleep in secret places, for the same reason.” Julius continued, disregarding the byplay. “Even Matches often have two rooms.”

“Well, that’s not unusual.” Randa said, before she thought better of it. “Hekktor and I never shared a room.”

Kahn’s head snapped around to look at her again. “You didn’t sleep in your Match’s bed?” His tone was somewhere between an accusation, hopefulness, and surprise. God knew why he cared.

Unless it was unusual to have separate rooms…?

Randa had never really considered it before. She’d always been painfully shy, so she’d never had any close friends growing up. Good manners were the scaffolding she used to communicate, and ladies didn’t quiz other Phases on their sleeping arrangements. How would she know what was typical?