[Sarah bustles around the kitchen because she doesn't know any other way how to do things. She puts her entire heart into everything she does, even making gumbo for the boys. Cass had begged for it and she couldn't just up and tell him no. Not when Sam was gone and the boys were moping around about it. Bucky's been doing his best to cheer them up and pull them out of it, and she appreciates that. She appreciates a lot of the things he does and tries to pay him back with hidden smiles and a place to stay. Of course, offering him a place to stay also gives her something she hasn't felt in a long time.
It makes her feel selfish, but then she remembers that she's not about to let him go someplace where he's all alone. He needs them just as much as she wants him around.
She's caught up in finishing up taking an order on the phone while she's making dinner, with one of the boat parts sitting on the dining table for repairs in between everything. She manages to get the boys' toys and balls over toward the back door with her feet while she's juggling all her other tasks. Her phone is set on the dining table once she finishes up the call, her notebook sitting beside it filled with requests for food that she'll need to fill by tomorrow evening. She easily slips back over to the stove to focus on the here and now. Dinner for her boys is more important than feeding other people.
By the time he speaks up, she's well aware he's quietly observing her in his usual staring spot. As usual, he makes himself seem like a burden. She stops in the middle of stirring her gumbo and holds out the wooden spoon toward him.]
Now, I know you're not going on about that again. Not when I need help with this. It's missing something, and you're about to tell me what it is.
[She knows exactly what's missing. More paprika and chili powder. But if she's going to teach him how to make her special family recipe gumbo, she's going to put him to the test.]
no subject
It makes her feel selfish, but then she remembers that she's not about to let him go someplace where he's all alone. He needs them just as much as she wants him around.
She's caught up in finishing up taking an order on the phone while she's making dinner, with one of the boat parts sitting on the dining table for repairs in between everything. She manages to get the boys' toys and balls over toward the back door with her feet while she's juggling all her other tasks. Her phone is set on the dining table once she finishes up the call, her notebook sitting beside it filled with requests for food that she'll need to fill by tomorrow evening. She easily slips back over to the stove to focus on the here and now. Dinner for her boys is more important than feeding other people.
By the time he speaks up, she's well aware he's quietly observing her in his usual staring spot. As usual, he makes himself seem like a burden. She stops in the middle of stirring her gumbo and holds out the wooden spoon toward him.]
Now, I know you're not going on about that again. Not when I need help with this. It's missing something, and you're about to tell me what it is.
[She knows exactly what's missing. More paprika and chili powder. But if she's going to teach him how to make her special family recipe gumbo, she's going to put him to the test.]