meme     /     send me a 🍲 for my muse to cook for yours.

a moment  ( or ten )  too long is spent reading the news of the day on his laptop when the smell of fish stock starting to burn fills the kitchen. a few swear words slip out as the clock and the consistency of the broth confirm what the smell implied—it’s too thick to be used. dylan is just in the process of pouring it out as he hears another set of feet travel to the room—jack or atlas, by the pace of it—but dylan doesn’t stop running water into the pot.     “  i got SIDETRACKED and forgot to watch the temperature–…  ”     it’s less news and more an acknowledgement of the other’s presence until he has finished the preliminary rinsing and he can turn around to face—jack.

one thing’s for damn sure, he’s not starting that process again. he’ll experiment when the safe house is less populated and he more focused on the task at hand.     “  i’m gonna make nicoise—you want me to make enough for two?  ”     salad, he’s pretty sure, he can manage to make right now.