"Okie-dokie, yew got it. I'll be back here in juuust a lil' bit!"
And he's off. There's some clattering down in the kitchen, the sounds of him singing to himself, and occasional sounds of the front door opening and light conversation had with the Bizzyboys, but, true to his word, he returns after about an hour.
It's by no means marvelous--- he hasn't cooked for himself in some decades, only still yet fetching himself snacks--- but the chicken in the soup is cooked through, even if the broth, at this point, is lukewarm, and the noodles are a bit chewy. The tea smells more of honey than it does of chamomile; it's hard to say if it's because chamomile has a subtle smell, or he just used a fair bit of honey.
"Caaaaappy, yew still awake?" He calls gently into the room, nudging the door open with his hip to walk the little tray in sideways. "I got yewr healin' liquids all ready for yew!"
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And he's off. There's some clattering down in the kitchen, the sounds of him singing to himself, and occasional sounds of the front door opening and light conversation had with the Bizzyboys, but, true to his word, he returns after about an hour.
It's by no means marvelous--- he hasn't cooked for himself in some decades, only still yet fetching himself snacks--- but the chicken in the soup is cooked through, even if the broth, at this point, is lukewarm, and the noodles are a bit chewy. The tea smells more of honey than it does of chamomile; it's hard to say if it's because chamomile has a subtle smell, or he just used a fair bit of honey.
"Caaaaappy, yew still awake?" He calls gently into the room, nudging the door open with his hip to walk the little tray in sideways. "I got yewr healin' liquids all ready for yew!"