There's something special about the first time something happens. Johann had brought him things he'd asked for, things Johann had fleetingly considered he might like, and he'd been a little shit at least once.
This is different.
This is lovely enough he feels his chest tighten and he ruthlessly beats his urge to cry to death before it can rise in his throat. But it's ghost floats behind his glass pale eyes.
"You made stew."
Then, as if he needed a moment to think, he offers up the book like he's in a dream.
He doesn't know what to make of that expression, but he resists the urge to wrap him in an embrace. That can come later. After a moment. He takes the book, sets it aside.
"From home, yes. I had it once at that pub near the water." He shrugs. It might not be perfect, considering his ingredients, but he's rather proud of it.
He lets it be removed, without comment or fight, but he'll go up on his tip toes to press a kiss to Johann's cheek, arms going around him tight for a moment before loosening and drawing away.
He's not used to this. This reaction is something else entirely, something new. Something - a little novel. Johann doesn't know quite how to read it yet, but he assumes the best as he brings over two bowls.
"No bread," he admits with a shrug. "I don't like making it and I wasn't taking from the kitchen. Not after Kikimora's fucking tantrum."
"Your skill in the kitchen is coming along quite well," he says as he looks down at the stew. He could be in a pub in Elendhaven. No. This is at least the quality of a restaurant. He knows Archer has offered to make him foods from home, but this is...food from home.
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There's something special about the first time something happens. Johann had brought him things he'd asked for, things Johann had fleetingly considered he might like, and he'd been a little shit at least once.
This is different.
This is lovely enough he feels his chest tighten and he ruthlessly beats his urge to cry to death before it can rise in his throat. But it's ghost floats behind his glass pale eyes.
"You made stew."
Then, as if he needed a moment to think, he offers up the book like he's in a dream.
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"From home, yes. I had it once at that pub near the water." He shrugs. It might not be perfect, considering his ingredients, but he's rather proud of it.
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"It smells right."
A haunted smile, yes, but a genuine one.
"You look handsome."
He usually has more to say.
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"Go sit down. I'll bring you some."
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"Right."
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"No bread," he admits with a shrug. "I don't like making it and I wasn't taking from the kitchen. Not after Kikimora's fucking tantrum."
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"Where did you get the biscuits from, then? Those were quite good. Different from the ones they make in the dining hall, though."
He's still stirring the stew around, enjoying the fact that it even feels right.
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He obviously had needed help with it, but he's told Florian many times about how difficult baking is.
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"I suppose I should taste it."
But he's enjoying the smell.