![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[Room 372]
[Shortly after this.]
Soup seems like a good idea tonight. It's warm, and comforting, and doesn't need a hell of a lot of work to turn out well.
Gaeta dumps all the ingredients into the biggest pot he owns, dropping it on the stove's back burner to let it simmer for a couple hours. Gogo hasn't strayed far from his side since they left the bar; when Gaeta gives up and opts to sit on the kitchen floor, rather than take a proper seat at the table, the dodo scoots closer with all seeming intention to climb into his lap.
"No," he murmurs, pushing him back a little. "Stay there."
Gogo cocks his head, as if considering the request, then thumps down next to him and sets his beak on Gaeta's shoulder. Gaeta has to crane his chin back to make room for Gogo's head; with a defeated sigh, he draws an arm around the bird to ground himself a little further.
He can breathe. The anger hasn't ebbed back as far as he thought -- a meal that doesn't require much work means he can spend more time replaying the conversation in his head -- but the tension isn't as bad. Even if his palm hurts like all frak, he didn't do anything worse than sling a few insults Javert's way.
Gaeta still wouldn't mind staying on the floor a little while longer.
Soup seems like a good idea tonight. It's warm, and comforting, and doesn't need a hell of a lot of work to turn out well.
Gaeta dumps all the ingredients into the biggest pot he owns, dropping it on the stove's back burner to let it simmer for a couple hours. Gogo hasn't strayed far from his side since they left the bar; when Gaeta gives up and opts to sit on the kitchen floor, rather than take a proper seat at the table, the dodo scoots closer with all seeming intention to climb into his lap.
"No," he murmurs, pushing him back a little. "Stay there."
Gogo cocks his head, as if considering the request, then thumps down next to him and sets his beak on Gaeta's shoulder. Gaeta has to crane his chin back to make room for Gogo's head; with a defeated sigh, he draws an arm around the bird to ground himself a little further.
He can breathe. The anger hasn't ebbed back as far as he thought -- a meal that doesn't require much work means he can spend more time replaying the conversation in his head -- but the tension isn't as bad. Even if his palm hurts like all frak, he didn't do anything worse than sling a few insults Javert's way.
Gaeta still wouldn't mind staying on the floor a little while longer.