The little mysteries
Who: Tim Drake, open!
Where: The kitchen
When: Day 004, any time
What: Tim remembers that he can't cook...
Warnings: I'll be slow on tag backs due to school.
It was almost funny. Except for the part where it really wasn't.
Of all the horrendous things that had come to pass in the house, since his arrival, and of all the strange sights he'd seen, this is where he ended up.
Avoiding dwelling on the ghost/monster boy that had attacked Akito/Agito. Trying not to think of all the implications that were left hanging in the air. Temporarily pushing away the thoughts of where some of his team mates maybe have disappeared to during the previous night. Neglecting the questions in his head that needed answers-- both those of personal ethics and of the overarching mystery that was plaguing them.
But instead staring blandly at an assortment of food on the counter, vegetables and materials there for a proper meal. The kind he hadn't had the chance to eat in what most have been months. And the kind that he really didn't know how to cook.
Warily, he eyed the cooking pot on the stove. It sucked that all of his better judgement reminded him that he could probably trust that even less than he trusted the rest of the food in the kitchen.
Maybe he should make a sandwich or something.
Where: The kitchen
When: Day 004, any time
What: Tim remembers that he can't cook...
Warnings: I'll be slow on tag backs due to school.
It was almost funny. Except for the part where it really wasn't.
Of all the horrendous things that had come to pass in the house, since his arrival, and of all the strange sights he'd seen, this is where he ended up.
Avoiding dwelling on the ghost/monster boy that had attacked Akito/Agito. Trying not to think of all the implications that were left hanging in the air. Temporarily pushing away the thoughts of where some of his team mates maybe have disappeared to during the previous night. Neglecting the questions in his head that needed answers-- both those of personal ethics and of the overarching mystery that was plaguing them.
But instead staring blandly at an assortment of food on the counter, vegetables and materials there for a proper meal. The kind he hadn't had the chance to eat in what most have been months. And the kind that he really didn't know how to cook.
Warily, he eyed the cooking pot on the stove. It sucked that all of his better judgement reminded him that he could probably trust that even less than he trusted the rest of the food in the kitchen.
Maybe he should make a sandwich or something.