[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i”]she nods, stepping to follow him toward their suitcases. a pair of sweatpant shorts and a tshirt are grabbed, thrown on, and her hands are already reaching to tie her hair up into a loose bun.

"agreed."

but... she's not necessarily the best cook.

"um, not too great, but i can make pasta and rice."

easy, simple things that didn't require much time or ingredients - a reminder of circumstances, she supposes.

"what about you?"

CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i”]her eyes drift to the rip in his shirt as he prods it with his finger and despite herself, a small smile of mild fondness rises. she recognizes the evidence of a cat's claws even without the slight peppering of cat hair across the rest of the fabric. her one shirts match that appearance more often than not.

"do you have a favorite dish you like to make?"

he swaps shirts, then, and a look of brief disapproval crosses her face before it smooths out into neutrality. his choice of heroes might be wrong, but he's still reaching for her hand so she can't argue too much right now.

"c'mon, chef."

she tugs his hand lightly before trying to lead them out of the room and toward the kitchen.

"do you want more wine, too?"

CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i”]"okay," she mumbles softly to herself. "pasta is doable..."

she doesn't have many recipes, but you can't go wrong with fettucine alfredo, right?

while he busies himself with preparing the wine, she begins to drift about the kitchen, peeking in cabinets to mull over what ingredients they even have to work with.

"mmmm, i think we have enough supplies to make fettucine alfredo. does that sound okay?"

her head turns to steal a glance of him from over her shoulder. when she does, she catches sight of the sippy cups and the bottle of wine in his grasp. it elicits a tinkering laugh before she's turning back around to begin gathering the ingredients she's managed to find.

CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i”]her cheeks heat with mild embarrassment, a swath of pink quickly rising, and her mouth quickly opens with a petulant retort.

"well, it's polite to ask."

for all she knows, he could have some trauma with specific dishes or something...

in the end, he placates her with a kiss to the cheek and the extension of wine in her direction. the sippy cup is taken with a light laugh - they're really, truly, drinking out of sippy cups?

"yes, please."

her eyes drift to scan over the ingredients gathered before returning to his.

"mind putting a pot of water on the stove while i get everything ready?"

CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i”]"i can be very polite when i want to be."

she pouts with childlike petulance. it's not often, granted, but it does sometimes happen...

while he preps a pot and places it on the stovetop, she begins to gather the ingredients and a sauce pan to take over to the island behind the oven. once she has her hands free, however, she pauses to take a sip of wine before glancing over at him.

"did you salt the water too?"

CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i”]"i do too!"

the pout quickly gives way to a light scowl. sometimes, he's just simply infuriating.

"maybe you're just not worthy of my politeness, how about that?"

and in a haughty huff, she raises her head higher in defiance and turns way to focus instead on the ingredients.

with her back turned, he's free to get away with correcting his mistake and adding salt into the simmering pot. while he does so, she busies herself with measuring out milk, flour, cheese, and butter for the sauce pan. her movements are, perhaps, slightly forceful.

CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i”]he settles next to her at the counter and she forces herself to keep her focus solely on the ingredients. only one or two more to measure...

"i don't know."

she sounds a little exasperated as she finishes measuring the shredded cheese and taps the bottom of the measuring cup on the counter to settle it all down.

if she stopped to think about it, perhaps it'd be to not treat everything like a joke. there's whimsy in him, sure, but she grows tired of it sometimes.

"i'm sure you'll figure out how, though."

CIAN MAHER