IC contact for lastvoyages

[cactusy]

[If I don't have an active post up, feel free to use this post to have your character call, videochat, text, or knock on Shaw's door.]

Comments

[themostfun]

[ Oh yes a distraction. ]

Books. I taught myself the basics in middle school. Then I kept having to do odd jobs to get to where I needed to be to do my actual job, so I kept refining my technique. Now it's second nature.

[ Root says this like it didn't start because her mother wasn't always able to cook, and like her actual job wasn't usually killing people or hacking into their networks. Or both. ]

I guess it's kind of like how playing an instrument involves practice so you don't lose what you've learned.

[cactusy]

I cooked more as a kid than I do as an adult. I think I've cooked more here in the past two months than I did in the past two-- three years in New York.

[Three years, to exclude her year in Samaritan's hands.]

My dad worked long hours, though, and my mom and I liked to have hot food waiting for him when he got back. And when he had a day off and she was at work, we returned the favor for her.

[themostfun]

That's so sweet.

[ Said sincerely. It's really sweet that Shaw cooked with both her parents. It must have been nice. ]

Do you like cooking? Really enjoy it, I mean. I do. The smells, the colors, the flavors... it's fun.

[cactusy]

I guess. I like the memories more than I like the act itself, but it's fine.

[themostfun]

That sounds really nice.

[ Root's earliest memories of cooking are lonely, framed by needing to do it, rather than wanting to. It's much less so now, where the end result is sitting here with Shaw, relaxed, just being. ]

The best part is having someone you love to eat it with.

[cactusy]

[In response to that, Shaw slurps up a big spoonful of soup, then presses her shoulder against Root's.]

[themostfun]

[ Snickering, Root leans in to kiss Shaw on the cheek. ]

I'll get a bunch of blankets when we're done. And then we can snuggle as we digest.

[cactusy]

[I should go out, her brain tells her again. I need to get to work; I need to do my job.

But even though her mouth thins into a line, she leans into Root again, nodding.]

Yeah. That sounds good.