(Untitled)

[mm_batty]

Starla had class today which left Bill alone to sleep in and putter around. He managed to make it to the grocery store and back, something he's quite proud of, and is putting the finishing touches on dinner before she gets home

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[fit_to_survive]

She's juggling two bags of food -- gourmet burgers from Harry's, complete with fixings and sides (the baked potatoes as big as the burgers themselves), and cheesecake for dessert -- and an oversized tote filled with papers, folders and her laptop on one shoulder.

Getting the door open is a triumph; she lets the tote fall to the sofa in a graceless slide. She's heading for the kitchen when the smell of pork chops registers.

"Babe, you didn't have t'do -- "

She pauses by the counter, taking in the current disaster area, and swallows back a helpless chuckle.

"Oh, Bill."

[wheelsy_sheriff]

He's standing at the stove, a bag of flour in one hand, eyeing the gravy soup. He knows that somehow one will fix the other and he's trying to figure out how best to accomplish this when Starla's voice startles him.

On instinct he tries to hide what he's doing, quickly turning and putting the flour behind his back, then promptly dropping it.

"Starla! Hey, I -- shit."

He glances over his shoulder, looks at her, then turns and bends down to pick up the bag and gather the mess.

"I got it-- I'm sorry-- I was just tryin'-- you home early?"

He checks his watch and realizes he lost track of time.

[fit_to_survive]

Her eyes fall to the faint cloud of flour behind his ankles and she stifles another laugh -- she doesn't want him to think she's laughing at him instead of the situation.

"Here, lemme give you a hand."

She puts down the bags and crosses the tile to rescue the bubbling gravy from the stove.

[wheelsy_sheriff]

"I got it. Well, actually-- " He looks back and sees her taking care of the gravy. "Thanks. Can you check them chops in the oven, too? They outta be done. I'm gonna get the broom."

Standing with the bag he's glad to see it didn't bust, but there's still some flour sprinkling the tile, along with other little bits of everything including Shake N' Bake bits and potato flakes.

[fit_to_survive]

"I'll get 'em."

The gravy, somehow simultaneously scorched and runny, might be a lost cause; she turns her attention to the pork chops instead, which look recipe book-perfect when she pulls the pan from the oven.

"You've been busy -- you go t'the store and everything?"

[wheelsy_sheriff]

He returns with the broom and dust pan and smiles proudly.

"I did."

Picking up the pile he takes it to the trash and spots her bags.

"Oh, I didn't know you were bringin' somethin'."

Leaning the broom against the wall he steps over to investigate.

[fit_to_survive]

Pork chops deposited safely on a clean dish towel on the counter, she's giving the gravy one more half-hopeful (but fruitless) stir.

"Oh, I -- "

She looks over and shakes her head.

"That can keep -- it'll be lunch tomorrow instead."

Though the cheesecake is fair game for dessert after dinner.

[wheelsy_sheriff]

It looks and smells good.

"Y'sure? I guess I shoulda let you know so you didn't have to go to the trouble."

Of course, that would've ruined the surprise, but by the looks of things he kind of ruined hers.

[fit_to_survive]

"M'sure."

The corner of her mouth turns up in a teasing half-smile.

"We're not gonna let all your hard work get spoiled by a t'go order."

[wheelsy_sheriff]

He flashes her a wide smile and nods.

"Alright, I'm just finishin' up if you wanna get the table ready. Everything is ready 'cept the gravy. An' don't worry, I'm gonna clean up the mess."

He returns the broom and dust pan, and checks the pork chops before seeing what can be done about the uncooperative gravy.

[fit_to_survive]

"I ain't worried," she tells him, breathing out a chuckle. "Besides, we both know I won't let you tackle this all by your lonesome."

Once the table is set, she takes two glasses from the cabinet; placing them on the counter, she steps behind Bill and peers around his shoulder at the saucepan full of what should be gravy but somehow ... isn't.

"Y'know, I like plain mashed potatoes just the same."

[wheelsy_sheriff]

Frowning at the mess he stirs it a bit and shakes his head.

"I got no idea what went wrong. There's butter, though, if that's all right."

[fit_to_survive]

She wraps an arm around his waist and smiles into his sleeve.

"More'n all right -- everything looks real good."

[wheelsy_sheriff]

Leaving the gravy mess to be dealt with later his arm goes around her shoulders for a quick squeeze and he nods.

"Well then, let's eat."

He lets go of her and grabs the mashed potatoes and basket of biscuits to take to the table.

[fit_to_survive]

She pours a glass of milk for each of them; once their plates are filled and they're both settled at the table, she looks over with an expectant smile.

"So, tell me 'bout your day."

[wheelsy_sheriff]

Buttering a biscuit he looks over at her.

"Oh, uh... not much to it. Slept in a bit, went to the store an' came back to start cookin'."

He puts the butter knife down and shifts slightly on his chair.

"Shoppin' trip was kinda... interestin'."