[Old-fashioned. She's never used an old wood stove, but she's lit many fires and it seems straightforward enough, so she's not even going to bother asking how.
My gun, ammo, a lighter, some medical supplies, a flashlight, duct tape, a water bottle, a hunting knife, a bit of alcohol and some rags. Some food, too, if I have something that'll keep, but it's harder to manage that here.
[Most girls probably don't feel their heart skip a beat over a couple tins of beans, but Tess is, regretfully, not like most girls. She glances at him over her shoulder, looking pretty pleased, but she keeps herself grounded. She tells him:]
You gotta have your own rations, Jake, you never know when this place is going to go to hell.
And you're just going to live off what, pie filling?
[She puts the pot on the stove and moves around his place, looking for dishes. She'd probably just eat it right out of the can, but she knows how stupid that looks here.]
[Searching longer means marginally more time to snoop, anyway.]
More protein in beans. [Does that mean anything to a guy from the 19th century? No idea.] Fruit has almost no fat, too, and you need that the most when you're low on food.
[She says it playfully enough, but she rolls her eyes when she's got her back turned, feeling confident that no one here will take food seriously until they have to live through a famine. For their sake she hopes it doesn't happen, but for her own sanity, she'd love for anyone else to understand it.
If it comes to starving, she won't be sharing.
She finds a bowl and moves back to the stove to stir the soup.]
Shame you're all old-fashioned, death tolling is a good excuse to just lay in bed for a few days watching movies.
Won't starve, Tess. I've got rations here and I've been keepin' what can be kept from the meals.
[Despite her teasing tone, his is serious. He remembers how seriously she took it before, and, while he doesn't want to argue, he doesn't want her to fret for his sake.
He has containers of granola, the aforementioned beans, fruit, cereals, and anything else he can store without worry. Of course, it's not because of a fear of starvation, but a desire to eat alone rather than exposed in the dining hall, but he's got enough.]
And I don't need movies when I got you to keep me entertained with your lectures and good humor.
[She thinks of that stupid fucking conversation with Archer, and how easily people say "no one will starve", like she didn't grow up without it ever crossing her mind.
She turns around and looks at Jake and how rough he looks, and she decides to put the topic to bed. She's not convinced they're close enough for her to get away with picking too many arguments, and she's gotten far enough with him that it's not worth risking, either.
Simply:]
Alright.
[She finishes up with the soup and ladles it out.]
[She comes back over to him, sitting down at his side, bowl in one hand, spoon in the other. She offers them over, but she'll spoon-feed him if she needs to.]
I'm not much of a cook but no making fun, alright?
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[ Even if he has unknowingly been a huge cockblock lately. ]
Yeah. I brought soup. Hungry after all, huh?
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[He also doesn't want to talk about Arthur anymore.
He gestures to the stove.]
Should have wood ready. Matches in the drawer.
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Tess gives his hand a squeeze and pulls away.]
I don't go anywhere without a lighter, anyway.
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Surprised you don't always carry that bag.
[He turns so he can watch her, glad that she came.]
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Depends on how likely I think it is that I'll need it.
[Or: how safe she feels at any given time. Since the thing with Edward, that's not very, but she puts on a decent show otherwise for Jake.]
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[It's not really a question.]
What else you got in it?
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My gun, ammo, a lighter, some medical supplies, a flashlight, duct tape, a water bottle, a hunting knife, a bit of alcohol and some rags. Some food, too, if I have something that'll keep, but it's harder to manage that here.
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He pushes himself up slowly to lean back against the wall.]
Got some tinned beans around here somewhere. Don't normally touch 'em since we got enough elsewhere. If you ever want it.
[Because he might not get food insecurity, but he understands that food is difficult to come by where she's from. She's said so herself.]
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You gotta have your own rations, Jake, you never know when this place is going to go to hell.
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Didn't tell you where the canned fruit was, did I? Got a bit of flour and shit left if I need to make somethin'.
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[She puts the pot on the stove and moves around his place, looking for dishes. She'd probably just eat it right out of the can, but she knows how stupid that looks here.]
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Thought about it. Better than beans.
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More protein in beans. [Does that mean anything to a guy from the 19th century? No idea.] Fruit has almost no fat, too, and you need that the most when you're low on food.
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Still, he watches her snoop.]
Don't much like beans.
[He knows that she's trying to help, but he's too tired to be compliant. Or to make it easy.]
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[She says it playfully enough, but she rolls her eyes when she's got her back turned, feeling confident that no one here will take food seriously until they have to live through a famine. For their sake she hopes it doesn't happen, but for her own sanity, she'd love for anyone else to understand it.
If it comes to starving, she won't be sharing.
She finds a bowl and moves back to the stove to stir the soup.]
Shame you're all old-fashioned, death tolling is a good excuse to just lay in bed for a few days watching movies.
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[Despite her teasing tone, his is serious. He remembers how seriously she took it before, and, while he doesn't want to argue, he doesn't want her to fret for his sake.
He has containers of granola, the aforementioned beans, fruit, cereals, and anything else he can store without worry. Of course, it's not because of a fear of starvation, but a desire to eat alone rather than exposed in the dining hall, but he's got enough.]
And I don't need movies when I got you to keep me entertained with your lectures and good humor.
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She turns around and looks at Jake and how rough he looks, and she decides to put the topic to bed. She's not convinced they're close enough for her to get away with picking too many arguments, and she's gotten far enough with him that it's not worth risking, either.
Simply:]
Alright.
[She finishes up with the soup and ladles it out.]
I do have a good sense of humor.
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[He runs his hand down his face. He's endeared by her, including those rough edges. But he's not going to leave them be.]
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[She comes back over to him, sitting down at his side, bowl in one hand, spoon in the other. She offers them over, but she'll spoon-feed him if she needs to.]
I'm not much of a cook but no making fun, alright?
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I'm sure I've had worse. Can't remember it, but I'm sure it happened.
[He manages a grin before he actually starts to try and eat it.]
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Death tolling and the worst meal in memory. What a week you're having.
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[He may be feeling sick, but he knows that not eating is going to make it worse. So he tries.]
Thanks for this.
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[She’s just going to hang out at his bedside, idly letting a hand rest above his knee.]
What were you going to do if I didn’t show up? Wait for Misty?
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[Two pills that were difficult to swallow alone. But they did make him feel much better.]
But I knew you couldn't stay away.
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I'm gonna hang on to that mental image, you laying here, miserable, clinging to the hope that I'm going to slide in to make you feel better.
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