"scrambled," he chatots, "interesting choice." but it's not a complaint. gabriel gets to work at cracking the eggs against the lip of the measuring cup, then discarding the remnants into the sink for a later cleanup. he tosses a dozen of them in there, enough for both of them and more. he only pulls his attention from them to open a drawer nearby, one that carries a dozen or so spoons of varying sizes.

"here," he says, reaching inside to get a spoon for himself and leaving it open for her. his lips turn down into a frown as he contemplates how to mix this realiably. normally, he'd have just gripped it with one hand, and stirred with the other, but...

he'll just have to take it slow. it'll take longer, but, that was his life now. the clattering of plastic spoon and glass edge consume his side of the kitchen.

nina larson

he chuckles once, more breathy than anything, but still deep and rumbling. "i took you for an over-easy woman," gabriel says as he reaches for more condiments. "but there is a place for scrambled."
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he's pulled from his dim, but growing frustration, by her question.
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"hm." how much were they going to eat? he was a large man, but his appetite was small today. "two should be fine." gabriels turns back to his work, but seeks the comfort of a distraction.
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"how did rocket appreciate the porygon?"

[attr="class","notes"]nina larson[break]

[attr="class","wizzcredit"]☉

she'd probably been itching to ask that question for a while now. understandable, given how confused she must've been.
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"they're used as processors; data filters. they likely manage rockets network or are used to spy and hack their competitors." He doesn't stop his own actions despite the lecture.
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satisfied with his whisking, he turns the stove top on, and let's the pan gather heat for a minute.
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"you needed a win, nina. so i gave you one." and with it, hopefully, a place to belong.

[attr="class","notes"]nina larson[break]

[attr="class","wizzcredit"]☉

a great shadow looms over her, gabriel turning to approach and assess. he took her admittance at face value, brow furrowing in a dose of confusion.
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"would you prefer to work with the eggs, then?" it was a valid question, considering their predicament. but, their previous conversation comes barreling back into his distracted mind, and his eyes narrow further.
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"unless you mean with rocket?"

[attr="class","notes"]nina larson[break]

[attr="class","wizzcredit"]☉

normally he'd scrunch his forehead in confusion, or perhaps quirk an eyebrow in question. yet, the mere idea of it now exhausted him in ways he'd never admit. when had he gotten this tired?
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"don't worry about it." there was much to unpack from this encounter, but perhaps that could wait a bit. "i wish you told me before i mixed the eggs, though." he chuckles and it sounds like gravel shaking in a bag. but, before she could take that poorly.
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"a joke." pushing himself from the counter with a hip he moves to where she is, taking over the station.
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once he was properly in position, his hand gets to work. with back still turned towards her, he speaks softly.
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"relax, nina. i've found that once you let yourself fall into pace with your work here, the kitchen is a wonderful escape." the idea surges a memory inside of him, and he falls into it willingly.
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"i remember once coming in here and catching my children (@jessica ) (URIAH BLACK ) (Sirius Black ) (gabrielle black ) (@adrial) attempting to surprise me with a father's day breakfast. the place was a mess; dishes strewn about in numbers that would put even a thanksgiving meal to shame." his own chest tightens, eyes blinking something back.
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he's thankful his back is to her.
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"they were disappointed i ruined their surprise, of course. but, i convinced them to let me help. it took us a while but together we made a truly terrible breakfast—" gabriel chuckles "—but it's one of my fondest memories, and where my love of the cooking truly started. when the hard days come, i come here not to think, but to unwind. try it."

[attr="class","notes"]nina larson[break]

[attr="class","wizzcredit"]☉

gabriel grunts in response to her comment, letting the memory fade as quickly as it came through.
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"we'll see where your skills lie, first." the smallest traces of a smile flickers, "these eggs may make, or break, your culinary future."
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speaking of...
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"surprise me. i look forward to seeing what you create."
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his own batter was nearly done. all that remained was more stirring, and finally, placing them in the waffle maker.

[attr="class","notes"]nina larson[break]

[attr="class","wizzcredit"]☉

silence over takes them for a time. it's not an uncomfortable one, at least to gabriel. he finds comfort in the space between words; the time to think and be alone with his thoughts and feelings.
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gabriel was a rather contemplative individual. a mogul in business and, as of recently, a politician, his words carried a weight that not many could truly understand.
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it was also in these long stretches of stillness that gabriel thought he could truly understand someone better. do they bumble around for words to fill the gap? fidget and twitch beneath a self-imposed stress?
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"my offer still stands, you know." he says after a time, pouring batter into a waffle-iron. "a room of your own, here, or in the guest house nearby."

[attr="class","notes"]nina larson[break]

[attr="class","wizzcredit"]☉