a fussy girl that appreciates artwork. he pauses after he closes the door behind them, taking off his jacket to be hung up nearby. there's a little stir inside of him as he watches her. a tickle of pride.]
You have a good eye. I can tell you more about the art while I cook.
[translation: you are not going to wander around in my home unsupervised.
but he sounds so kind as he says it, almost a second thought as he makes his way to the kitchen. the island is organized nicely, bowls of colorful fruits and vegetables decorate it. the kitchen is morgue-like, surgical in its design of light greys and blues. everything is organized right down to the placement of knives, straight and clean. a smaller wooden table sits beside the island that acts as a standing cutting board. the only hints of use are the indents and slices of a blade. he motions to the chair in the corner should she decide to sit.
he is efficient, but a show-off. some groceries are put away in the refrigerator, while others are left out on the counter to make for easy access. he's planning on making an omelet for the two of them. he would like to be more extravagant, but he has no idea what her palate is like and doesn't want to overwhelm her.
before he really gets started, he pulls out a decanter of freshly squeezed orange juice from the fridge, pouring her a glass and holding out to her.]
pov: me also in the wiki gallery bc i forget how much stuff he has
a fussy girl that appreciates artwork. he pauses after he closes the door behind them, taking off his jacket to be hung up nearby. there's a little stir inside of him as he watches her. a tickle of pride.]
You have a good eye. I can tell you more about the art while I cook.
[translation: you are not going to wander around in my home unsupervised.
but he sounds so kind as he says it, almost a second thought as he makes his way to the kitchen. the island is organized nicely, bowls of colorful fruits and vegetables decorate it. the kitchen is morgue-like, surgical in its design of light greys and blues. everything is organized right down to the placement of knives, straight and clean. a smaller wooden table sits beside the island that acts as a standing cutting board. the only hints of use are the indents and slices of a blade. he motions to the chair in the corner should she decide to sit.
he is efficient, but a show-off. some groceries are put away in the refrigerator, while others are left out on the counter to make for easy access. he's planning on making an omelet for the two of them. he would like to be more extravagant, but he has no idea what her palate is like and doesn't want to overwhelm her.
before he really gets started, he pulls out a decanter of freshly squeezed orange juice from the fridge, pouring her a glass and holding out to her.]
I hope you like eggs.