[She's secretly glad when he takes seconds, in part because it's good to see him with an appetite after the terrible wounds he'd experienced, but also because — well, because it makes it feel a little more like home. Food in the middle, polite restraint on the first pass until everyone has had at least a little, a free-for-all for the remainder once the first plate is done. Communal eating is familiar, and it's less of a consideration when there's only two at the table, but still, it's reminiscent of being back at camp, and she likes it.
She eats slower than he does, making it last. She also never reaches for the butter or syrup, but takes her time and goes methodically until her plate is clean.]
...You're a very good cook. Better, I think, than some of the restaurants in town, even.
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She eats slower than he does, making it last. She also never reaches for the butter or syrup, but takes her time and goes methodically until her plate is clean.]
...You're a very good cook. Better, I think, than some of the restaurants in town, even.