#scarsdale

Finally. "Biscuits are good. Hannah taught you?"

"Yeah. Cold butter is important."

"Hmmph. Never got cooking, me. Boil water. Or stock." He has, indeed, boiled it; far too hot to drink now. He pours it in a mug, sets it aside. "Take out always good enough; takes less time to order and eat."

"You know how.... how she likes cooking. Just because I don't eat it doesn't mean I can't help. Takeout isn't as good, and it's so much money."

"Meh." He sticks the pot in the sink and runs water. "Time is money, money is time, but money I got. Time I need. So I spend money." He shoves the pan around in the sink for a minute, turns the water off. "Homecooked tastes better, though." He turns and squints at her.

"M'not as good as Hannah. It tastes weird when I check."

"To you. The biscuits were good."

"Might take one upstairs with the soup." And yes, he's referring to boiled chicken stock as 'soup.'

Zara is leaning against the frame, eyes studying the linoleum. She shrugs. "Practice. Cold butter. You want to put an ice cube in that stock if it's for Her."

"Mmph." But he gets an ice cube and drops it in.

"You want I should ask m-.. ask to bring Shabbos things here?"

"Too soon." Muttered as he wipes ineffectually with a cloth.

"Told Ratchet, she's cooking so you'll be okay for the weekend."

"Yeah." Then he pins her with an accusing eye. "Had to apologize to Ratchet."

"Sorry." Sluagh are hard to pin - her gaze slides down, away, face hidden by hair.

"Hmmph. So. You want to talk?"

"What you want? I'm sorry. Can't undo it. I'll mind my own business."

"Stay out of everyone's way."

He shrugs. "Ok."

She draws in a sharp breath, jaw clenched, and nods. "You want candles, or they too much, too? I could light candles."

"You mean upstairs? Mmph. Not so much light I worry about, it's open flame. Don't know how she would react."

"I thought... " she shakes her head, eyes shut again. "Nevermind."

"Hm? What you thought?"

"You're right. Wouldn't help."

"Zara, what?"

"What? It was a stupid fucking idea."

He lifts an eyebrow, joining it to his hairline. "What was that, missy?"

She shrinks, mumbling a near-inaudible apology.

"Hmmph."

"She's bringing soup. You want anything else, in specific?"

He shrugs. "She knows what to bring. Not picky."

"Yeah...." she stops, falling into silence again.

He sighs. "Ok. So I'm taking this up to Miriam then I have to leave for work. Ratchet will be here. You want to stay, walk with me, what?"

"I'll stay out the way." A pause. "I'm sorry. About last night. Won't happen again. I wanted... I... it won't happen again. "

After a pause. "You wanted to see her. Of course you did. You could have asked, you know."

"Didn't want... " she shakes her head. "Only screwed things up."

"Won't happen again. Promise. I know she's... I know you are... I know, I always.... always... I promise, okay?"

"Okay?" Mystified. "Zara, you eat a cookie and turn into a pooka while I wasn't looking? What the hell are you talking about??"

"I'll be better."

"Better than what?"

"Which.. which I know, that's... that's words, I guess, so not... not much. " her grey lips tug down in a brief grimace. "W-won't make anything harder than it is, I mean."

Hirim squints are her a long moment, lips moving soundlessly. "So... Got in Himmel... so you're saying you don't mean to make anything harder for us, here, taking care of Miriam, than it has to be?"

"...yeah." she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, chafing her upper arms.

He takes a deep breath, as if accomplishing a major physical task. "Ok. Ok. Fine. Good. So you want to walk, or stay here?"

"You go. I'll clean up down here."

He mutters. "Sure, not like I could stop you.... " and stumps out into the hallway to call good bye to Ratchet and get his cane at the door.

"...it's fine." probably unheard as the nocker stomps off.

The front door opens, and shuts.

Ratchet appears, and collects the mug of soup.

Zara packages up the leftovers, and pours the coffee in a thermos to keep warm. Dishes washed. Thermos for Ratchet to take with him.