The Apartment, New York, Sunday

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle was in her element. Not only was her boyfriend home - and not just visiting for the day but on actual break - but she was also cooking for him. That's right, their kitchen was a happy mess of various kinds of ingredients and pots and pans with --

With, well, something cooking in them. It was honestly hard to tell what it was by the smell

Comments

[flickofawrist]

Flick wasn't a very good cook but he'd been in and out of the kitchen a few times, trying to figure out what she was cooking and he hadn't been able to figure it out.

When he strolled in this time, barefoot and looking rested, he still couldn't figure it out. He opened the fridge to get some water before leaning against it.

"Do you need any help?"

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle was beaming at him again. She was barefoot too, for once clad in nothing more extravagant than a simple t-shirt that hung loosely on her slim frame, and some really nice pants.

'Really nice' meaning they hugged her in all the right ways.

"No, but you can try to distract me if you'd like." Okay, she still wanted to get the food done, but did he know how nice it was to see him here like this? "There's not much to do anymore, anyway. Mostly it just needs to sit and boil for a while."

[flickofawrist]

"Distract you, hmm?" Flick smiled at her and offered her his water. That wasn't much of a distraction but it was a start, wasn't it? "What kind of distractions would you like? Do you wanna go watch television?"

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle shook her head as she took the water from him. "And leave my poor baby alone? No way." Yes, Flick, she just called the food her 'poor baby'. Deal with it. "No. More local distractions. Like the fact that you're even here right now."