(Untitled)

[middle_name_s]

December is getting along in Twin Peaks; the snow is piled up in mounds that won't be going anywhere until April or May, but the first bad snowstorm is behind them, and the roads are clear, the power lines back up, and the sheriff's department back to normal

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[notaphony]

Joan's tried her hardest to get some rest - on doctor's orders, of course, as well as some very gentle nudging from Harry. (But there may have been one or two instances where she's done some tidying and cooked small meals when he isn't around.)

Today is a better day, though. The bandages have come off to reveal very minimal scarring - two pinpricks along the inside of her wrist are all that remain, though the sleeves of her sweater cover them now.

She's in the kitchen when she hears him at the front door, chopping up some garlic and onion to add to the meat already browning in the pot.

[middle_name_s]

Coming home to the smell of cooking is a nice thing, Harry's finding; a little bit of garlic and onions can set the appetite going in a heartbeat.

(So long as she's not using all the garlic.) "Hey," he calls through from the living room, as he hangs up his coat.

[notaphony]

He'll be delighted to discover there's very minimal garlic; Joan knows how to keep the particularly strong smell from lingering for days afterward.

"How was work?" She pries the meat up from the bottom of the pot to add the chopped onion, then follows it with a half-cup of red wine.

"I'm making a pot roast."

[middle_name_s]

(Just so long as they keep a little around for the doors.)

"Normal day," he says. "We had a fistfight between a couple of Santas on their lunchbreaks to break up and clean up after."