cutting_edgex23 | (no subject)

More than enough, really.

Meg looks around.

"Where are your new fish?"

"In the tank," X says, half-turning to look at it and gesturing toward the far corner of the room.

"You can feed them. If you want."

"Sure. Thank you."

Meg reads the directions on the side of the fish food, and follows them to the letter.

"They're really pretty," she says, watching them make beelines -- er, fishlines -- to the food.

"They do not fight each other," X offers. Carefully.

"Anymore."

Beat.

"I like them."

X fetches bloodworms from the freezer and deposits a few in the tank, as well. For Logan.

"Did they fight each other at first?" Meg asks, still watching them swim around the aquarium.

"You have a very nice set up for them. I suspect they're very happy fish."

"Only the blue ones," X says.

"Cap. And Logan."

Beat.

"It is better now."

The irony there is not something X recognizes.

"Good."

Meg turns her attention back from the fish to Laura.

"So . . . lasagne?"

"Yes," X says, very promptly.

"I have purchased what is necessary."

She thinks. And there is always the market down the block if something has been forgotten.

But first -- handwashing. Humans do not need to eat the remnants of fish food.

Handwashing and recipe reading.

Meg checks the ingredients and supplies Laura has laid out against the instructions and nods.

She's not at all surprised to see that, yes, they have what is necessary.

"This shouldn't be hard at all."

"If we do not drop the pan."

It only stands to reason, right?

And really, with two sets of hands working together reasonably efficiently, assembling the lasagne does not take long at all.

Now they just have to let it cook.

While Laura puts the pan in the oven (without dropping it, to no one's surprise, really), Meg looks at what's left on the counter.

Leftover noodles are the fun part, or so she was told by Mrs. Lucca, who lives down the street and was the one who taught Meg how to make lasagne.

"Noodle?" she asks Laura, rolling one up and dipping it into the sauce left in the bowl.

X looks half-startled, studying Meg's movements for a moment.

Then --

"It is like spaghetti?"

It's only half a question.

And then she rolls up her own noodle, very precisely, and dips one end into the sauce.

Hmm.

"Not exactly," Meg says.

Everything's cold, for one.

"It's . . . I have a neighbor at home, and I stayed with sometimes, when my parents were busy. And she used to let me eat the leftover noodles, and it was fun, because . . . well, it wasn't something you got to do any other time. And now it makes me think of Mrs. Lucca."

"Oh."

X eats another noodle while she thinks about that.

"I do not know who my aunt's neighbors were. And the Institute was isolated."

Beat.

"It is different here."

"Yeah.

"I think you found a good place."

Meg takes another noodle.

"How are your neighbors?"

"Quiet. Most of the time."

Beat.

"Tomas likes to talk. But he is very small. I do not mind."

"Quiet is a useful trait in neighbors," says Meg.

She looks again at the lasagne-making supplies.

"Would you like me to wash? I don't know where you keep things, so that might be more efficient than my trying to dry and put away."

"I do not mind washing," X says, after a moment of consideration.

"And drying."

The only reason there is even a little question is because Meg is a guest. And Inez has said guests are not supposed to work. But Meg helped cook, so --

It is confusing.

"It's your call, but I don't mind helping, and then we're done twice as fast."

And can move on to other things.

"Okay," X says.

And then rummages under the sink for dishwashing detergent.

"Rags and towels are in the drawer." It's right next to the silverware.

Meg opens the drawer, finds a rag, and sets a towel on the counter for Laura.

The dishes don't take them long, either.

Shockingly.

They are both very skilled. And thorough.

And efficient.

And once the wet rags have been deposited in the appropriate place, along with the newly cleaned dishes --

"You are hungry now?"

There are chips. And popcorn.

"I wouldn't say no to a snack," Meg says.

"Thank you.

"And we can decide what we want to do while the lasagne cooks."

"Okay," X says, rummaging through another cupboard and pulling out a few brightly colored plastic bowls.

For popcorn. Or chips.

Or both.

"I have movies. And a Nintendo DS."

And a record player.

"DS?"

She know about Nintendo, but the suffix is new.

Edited 2009-07-16 04:17 (UTC)