He didn’t miss the tension in Edy’s slim body at the repetition of the word ‘friend,’ though his teasing seemed to calm it a little. He’d already picked up that she was at least half-feral, and this only seemed to confirm it. Part of him wanted to reach out to her, to reassure that angry, bitter, wary creature—
No. It was up to her to take or leave his offer, and if she left it then so be it. Friendship couldn’t be forced, and his own track record with it was far from stellar. Her wariness was probably earned… and certainly wise.
A little space for them both seemed in order, and since he needed a few more bits and bobs from the kitchen convenience melded nicely with courtesy to give them both a chance to breathe while being productive. ”Hopefully it won’t come to that,” he murmured, already beginning his own hunt. ”You wear it too well to waste it on this.” He wasn’t sure whether she heard his parting compliment or not, but she was back soon enough with the glasses in hand.
Jigano was still searching, and was glad to have something to talk about that didn’t involve swearing at the difficulty in finding something so specific as cheesecloth. It was too damn useful for the kitchen not to have it, but there were a dozen or more places it could be stored – and he didn’t know any of them. Going through methodically seemed the best way, and Edy’s voice provided a lovely background to his quest. ”…’and yadda yadda,’” he repeated softly, amused at how she glossed over something that was probably very important to the people who still lived there.
”Wines are welcome,” he agreed, opening yet another drawer – and giving a soft grunt of success as he pulled a length of loosely-woven, unbleached cloth from the neatly stacked pile hiding there. ”Dry or sweet, red or white… as long as it’s a decent vintage, I’ve no complaint. A good cider, though, is just the thing for a warm summer or crisp fall night.” He chuckled as he snagged a glass bottle that had been drying by the sink, stretching the cheesecloth over it and proceeding to pour the syrupy mixture into its new home as bits of less-than-perfectly-pureed squash were separated out from the liquid portion. ”Or even a cold winter one! Whiskey is more for drinking with a purpose – or vodka, if you have someone who knows what they’re doing with it.”
He turned to Edy with a triumphant grin, saluting her with the bottle of pumpkin spiced syrup. ”Now, shall we start with whiskey? Or your alchemist’s brew?”
No. It was up to her to take or leave his offer, and if she left it then so be it. Friendship couldn’t be forced, and his own track record with it was far from stellar. Her wariness was probably earned… and certainly wise.
A little space for them both seemed in order, and since he needed a few more bits and bobs from the kitchen convenience melded nicely with courtesy to give them both a chance to breathe while being productive. ”Hopefully it won’t come to that,” he murmured, already beginning his own hunt. ”You wear it too well to waste it on this.” He wasn’t sure whether she heard his parting compliment or not, but she was back soon enough with the glasses in hand.
Jigano was still searching, and was glad to have something to talk about that didn’t involve swearing at the difficulty in finding something so specific as cheesecloth. It was too damn useful for the kitchen not to have it, but there were a dozen or more places it could be stored – and he didn’t know any of them. Going through methodically seemed the best way, and Edy’s voice provided a lovely background to his quest. ”…’and yadda yadda,’” he repeated softly, amused at how she glossed over something that was probably very important to the people who still lived there.
”Wines are welcome,” he agreed, opening yet another drawer – and giving a soft grunt of success as he pulled a length of loosely-woven, unbleached cloth from the neatly stacked pile hiding there. ”Dry or sweet, red or white… as long as it’s a decent vintage, I’ve no complaint. A good cider, though, is just the thing for a warm summer or crisp fall night.” He chuckled as he snagged a glass bottle that had been drying by the sink, stretching the cheesecloth over it and proceeding to pour the syrupy mixture into its new home as bits of less-than-perfectly-pureed squash were separated out from the liquid portion. ”Or even a cold winter one! Whiskey is more for drinking with a purpose – or vodka, if you have someone who knows what they’re doing with it.”
He turned to Edy with a triumphant grin, saluting her with the bottle of pumpkin spiced syrup. ”Now, shall we start with whiskey? Or your alchemist’s brew?”
