Graupel Canyon Contributing

Liza couldn't stand the thought of not making herself useful. It drove her mad to spend her days doing little else beyond keeping the books at the gym -- a job that really didn't even account for part-time work, let alone a full-time productive lifestyle. That, plus the fact that between Max and Dakila she hadn't paid a cent of rent since returning to society at large, left liza feeling more than a little ineffective. She was so very tired of being burdensome.

When Dakila arrived home from work one rainy Monday afternoon, he would enter to the rather unexpected aromas of roasting meat and veggies. A proper Sunday roast (one day off) was cooling on a rack atop the oven while Liza, complete with a baby-blue apron dotted with the occasional little pink heart, mashed a pot of garlic potatoes. She flashed the man a broad grin as he entered, the flyaways that had managed to sneak out of her ponytail bobbing to and fro as she moved.

"Welcome home!" she chimed happily. The table was set for two already, complete with plates, silverware, and woven mats beneath them. "I got bored. I hope you're hungry."

---

@Fao

Today was one of those days where he'd just been happy to get out of work on time. The sort of day where he had to slip out lest he get caught by another round of something that he was too tired to commit to. Didn't want to go to the gym, didn't want to check in on anyone. Just wanted to go home like normal people seemed to and maybe just exist in a way that required more thinking.

He had been deterring a lot of disasters in his life rather effectively, but nothing seemed to get easier in spite of this. It was all still... there.

Just like, well, Liza was still here. Which was significantly more pleasant, and somehow, sometimes, still surprising. It had been a bit and seemed to have no end in sight, and yet part of him still thought of himself as living alone.

This wasn't a problem, but it left him briefly stunned when he walked into a scene quite unusual in his house. Still, her smile was bright and contagious, and he laughed faintly through a smile as he pried wet shoes off at the door. Marveled a moment, before he managed to say, "This is a surprise." Occasionally one needed to state the obvious. He straightened up to take off his jacket. "You really did all this because you were bored?"

Maybe he didn't understand what being bored was like, anymore.

Liza laughed, her grin growing wider for his reaction. It had been precisely what she had imagined; he wasn't the sort for grandiose gestures, but that little grin of his was more than sufficient in terms of what she had been hoping to elicit. "Yeah, basically!" she responded with a shrug as she continued to mash the potatoes (unforeseen benefit of shifterdom number 785: you didn't have to deal with a weird, stinging, sore forearm after mashing a big pot of potatoes). "I mean -- also because I felt bad about not paying you rent. But it was mostly boredom!"

She gestured vaguely to the table. "Go on, sit! Do what you need to do. I'll have dinner on in a few minutes. Do you want something to drink?" It sounded a bit silly, but Liza had always dreamed of hosting dinner parties. In her hometown, one's ability to effectively host had been a matter of personal pride. It didn't seem to happen as much in the big city, to be sure, but damn it if Liza was about to let that particular childhood foible go unsatisfied now that she had the means and ability to do so.

"How was work?" she asked idly as she reached for the nearby carton of cream. It was still thre-quarters full, but damn it if she wasn't going to use every drop. It wasn't like they had caloric concerns to worry about.

Rent. As if he was providing her anything worth paying rent for. A little space in his house was nothing--and he never felt like she was in the way. But well, if her being here was going to get him a home cooked meal that he didn't have to lift a finger over even just this one time, he was okay with that. Even if his impulse, still seeing her as something of a guest, was to do it himself or at least help. Bit difficult to trap that feeling, but he made himself finish putting all his work implements away and then go to sit at the couch which had a perfect view into the kitchen.

You really didn't have to, do you need any help? still sat on his tongue, but he offered up, "I'm alright for now," to the drink offer, seeing as she was busy and he could wait.

Everything smelled good and as he was always some form of hungry, this all just made it impossible to think about anything else. How long was a few minutes? So when she asked about work, he felt a little blank. "Busy, as ever. But alright. Glad I got out on time, what with you doing all of this." Apron and everything. He was still marveling.

Liza beamed. "I'm glad, too!" and she meant it. She had been waiting impatiently for Dakila's return ever since she had gotten this idea in her head. She pulled a hand whisk from the accumulated stash of kitchen utensils that she had assembled for the evening's affairs and set about getting those potato peaks as rich and creamy as humanly possible. Soon, the aroma of butter and cream and garlic mingled readily with the unctuous scents of roast umami and the sultry smells of roasted, caramelized veg.

"Glad it sounds like things have normalized a bit," she said as she continued to work. "Thing here were pretty quiet. I went and ran the month's charts for the gym; I left them on your desk. We're still operating at a bit of a loss, but it's close -- and memberships are increasing at a steady pace. Word of mouth is really helping out." Satisfied, she plucked the whisk from the depths of the pot. "Don't suppose you want to lick the spoon?" she half-joked as she moved to check the roast -- it had been resting for a solid fifteen minutes, so it should have been more or less done cooking.

Normalized. As if there were any concept of normal in his life anymore, ever. But you know, she was right, he'd take the respite while he could have it. They were down two people at work but they were figuring it out and that was actually a pretty big deal. And things seemed steadier with the pack right now than they had in a bit. Maybe he could go without a crisis for a month or two.

Smells were killing him slowly, and maybe he should have taken that drink to occupy him. Ah well, too late now, and really...

"I can wait. You need any help, though?" Sorry, he'd held out as long as he could, but he was already moving to stand because inaction was not something he knew how to do. "And if you need more work, we can see what Max needs. Or I can just start paying you for all the upkeep you've been doing here." Joking, seriously, in the sense that he did not see her as some hired maid, but also... she really had been doing stuff, hadn't she?

Liza gave a brisk nod as the Prince rose from his throne. "Could you carve the roast?" she asked. "I won't tell anyone if you steal the burnt bits on the end. Those are the best parts, after all." She scooted over as she prepared the veg and the starch for plating, allowing Dakila access to the impressive-looking carving knife. She tried to ignore the bandages wrapped around her right hand -- a result of that random encounter with silver a few nights prior.

Dakila's next words made her flush a bit, though. Needing more work indeed. "Actually," she offered slowly. "There is something I wanted to ask you about. Something kind of stupid. I do want to get back into the workforce, but I don't think I can just go be a barista somewhere again..." She paused, chewing upon her lower lip as she tried to work up the courage to ask her question.

"Do you think there's anything someone like me could do for the STF?" she finally managed.

Fairly glad she didn't deny him, and happy to take up that task, he would absolutely steal bits. With permission it was just too tempting. So he would do this, huffing at little at how good it was as he worked, chewing idly on one little piece he allowed himself up front. This was a meal fit for a family, really, but he was certain they'd put a grand dent in it, just the two of them.

The question caught him a bit by surprise. Seeing as he'd just forcefully kicked one wolf off the force, on no uncertain terms, this question struck him a bit funny. But he knew she didn't mean... the STF like he was on it. She didn't have the training or the background. But was there anything else?

He paused in his work--nearly done anyway--and looked at her. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "What sort of thing were you thinking?"

See where her mind was at, what she thought she might be able to offer.

"No clue," Liza admitted as she began to put the plates together. She fetched the porcelain discs from the table, piling green beans, carrots and mashed potatoes high on each one before sliding them across the counter to Dakila. The look on her face certainly didn't suggest any degree of joking around the idea; she looked quite serious, if a little bit nervous.

"At least," she added, "nothing specific. I admit, I don't know how you all structure things. But... I figure for all of the police and stuff that you have, you don't have any -- like. Victim witness specialists, right?" She gestured vaguely with her hands. "I could do clerical work. I could do intake. But mostly I think I would be best at... Talking to people. Maybe -- uh. Helping them through this crazy world, if they manage to come across your doorstep."

She crossed her arms as she took a moment to rest, thinking to herself as to whether she even knew what she was talking about. Eventually, she moved to uncork a bottle of red wine, pouring healthy glasses for each of them.

"I just feel like it would be something I'm good at," she explained. "Something I'm -- uniquely situated to do, when compared to most people on the force."

She just wanted to be helpful. Dakila could understand that, and he could see it telegraphed in what she was doing here, too. It was hard to exist in a world and not do anything to make it better. He admired what she was getting at, immensely, for all he wasn't sure about the specifics.

But he smiled anyway as he loaded meat up onto the empty spot of the plates, a healthy portion for a couple of weres. Then, picking them up, he brought them over towards the table proper, to sit them down in spots, lingered on her feet to let her choose which seat she felt was hers.

"My boss, Captain Tiffer. He's... a very good guy. A lot like us, I think." He put Liza in the same mindset at his, someone who just wanted to make things good. "He wants to be able to do right by everyone, not just... normal people. I just think he struggles to know how to do it. Frankly, so do I."

There was something unexpectedly on his mind, this conversation, but for the moment he tried to focus on Liza, her well-meaning request. "I don't know what we need right now, what positions might be available. And honestly, I'm not even sure if it's a good idea, two of us so close to investigations and the like. But... I'll keep an eye out for openings. And keep you in mind."

Didn't want to dash her hopes, but also didn't want to make it sound like a sure thing, because it certainly wasn't. His own position at work was more and more tenuous all the time.

Liza brightened considerably at this. She was so used to outright rejections when it came to things like this -- but Dakila seemed to think it was actually a good idea. The only problem as far as he seemed to say was logistics. Logistics and viability. Liza could live with that. She beamed at her counterpart as she moved to claim the chair closer to the couch and TV. No particular reason for it, save for the fact that she had sat there for dinner the past few nights as well.

"I'm really glad to hear that," she replied, her soft smile never faltering this time. "I realize it's a broad request, with not a lot of direction. All I'd ask is that you keep an eye out, and consider me if an opportunity does pop up." She gestured to their plates once they were both settled in, allowing him to take the first bite; she wanted to see his reaction. Liza liked to think that she was a pretty excellent cook, and she so very rarely got to put those skills to the test!

"Even if it's unofficial, though," she added, rapping her knuckles idly upon the edge of the table. "If you ever need to send someone off for a one-on-one off the record, you know where to find me. I don't care if they're a wolf or not."

As ever, she was reasonable about it. Inclined to take the happier bend, to not be disappointed by a yellow light instead of a green. Nodded as he picked up his utensils, cut off a bit of the meat first, then swept it across the edge of the potato pile to pick some up. Paused, a little thought in his mind, but it seemed... no, he didn't want to confuse the mood here. This was good, looking towards a good future.

His plaguing thoughts about how he would continue both work and pack, and how he needed something to give, how he might do something about that, would be set aside for another time or maybe never.

"I know where to find you," he agreed with a simple fondness. Then he stuck the food in his mouth and made a noise of approval before his mouth was clear enough to speak. But when it was, he was already going for another forkful. "You know, goodness, Liza, where have these skills been all this time? Making garlic potatoes something other than gluey is miraculous."

Aw, heck, he liked it! That sent a smile straight to Liza's face and all sorts of warm fuzzies everywhere else. "The secret is in the effort," she explained. "You smash, then mash, then whip. Always in that order, always by hand. Machines make everything gluey." She nodded sagely alongside her expertly given advice. "I'm really glad you like it. I haven't gotten to cook for anyone in ages."

She dug into her own food, then, content to let both her and her wolf revel in the collision of succulent flavors. Honestly, this was probably one of her favorite meals on earth. It had been before she had become half carnivore, and her lifestyle change certainly hadn't changed that one bit. "The best part is the leftovers," she said. "If you want the real secret, it's putting the potatoes and beef and veg all together on a hoagie roll for lunch at work the next day. I'm telling you, it's legendary."

He was going to need to teach him that method. He did a lot of his own cooking when he had the time, but he'd never perfected mashed potatoes. Couldn't even remember the last time he'd made any. This was a genuine treat. It seemed like she'd put a whole five pound bag to work here, and he was certain between the two of them they'd have them gone within a day or two.

Especially when she started on about not just her technique, but her intentions for the follow up meal that was to come. Was it possible to want food while eating food? Seemed so. He could fathom this all smashed between bread perfectly.

"We have to do it, then, or I'll never forgive you."

But there wasn't much to say because he was too busy eating, also belatedly appreciating the wine. An unexpected touch. She really had not missed a note with this little surprise.

Liza snorted. "Of all my many fuck-ups," she lamented dramatically, placing the back of her hand over her forehead as she leaned back in her chair, "to think it would be the Curious Case of the Forgotten Sandwich that would do me in. But you are right -- such an act would be unforgivable. I'll have yours ready for the morning before you head out!"

It was kind of nice, having someone to cook for. It gave Liza an excuse to flex her muscles a bit -- to take up space beyond her own little slice of the world. She hadn't been truly willing to occupy someone else's life in such a way for a long time -- even her time spent with Max had felt more adjacent than intermingled. This, though? This was just. Nice.

She finished off her own potatoes before taking a heady sip of her wine, laughing as the liquid stained her teeth ever so slightly. Oops. Little bit aggressive there, Elizabeth.

"...I could do this more often, if you wanted," she said. "I mean -- not for payment or anything. Just -- I enjoy it. I dunno."

Lunch ready for him in the morning. What sort of idealistic television show world was he in all of a sudden? But no, her gesture would be well taken, grateful for one less, tiny thing to worry about the next day. It shouldn't have been such a big deal, but it sort of was.

The rest of it, as he got towards the end of his own plate, thinking about a second (smaller) round, but enjoying the vegetables almost leisurely. "You mean if you want," he insisted. "I won't ever say no to food at home if you enjoy it. Hell, I should probably start back in the kitchen, maybe on the weekends. I used to do a lot more of my own cooking. You know, when time wasn't... a tight commodity."

The wolf part of him wanted to say YES PLEASE EVERY NIGHT but he had a good handle on the animal's food greed.

"Oho! Is that so?" Liza gave a happy little nod at the notion. "Well, I'd be more than happy to handle a little trade. I cook a few times a week, you whip up something delicious on the weekends from time to time. It's a perfectly equitable exchange, if I do say so myself."

More importantly to Liza, it was just so wonderfully normal. It was the sort of thing people did to bond and spend time together. It was beautifully, wonderfully human. And the fact that she got to do it with Dakila? All the better.

He gave her an agreeable look, tipping his head towards her. "A deal, then, a very amenable cooperation."

Which, it all made it sound like theirs was a long term situation. Was he alright with that? He'd said before she was welcome as long as she needed, and he found that even now it held true. He didn't really need the privacy, the alone time. He barely felt like he was here anyway. Having a reason to come back from time to time was actually probably pretty good for him. And as she was part of the pack, it didn't feel like he was slacking off to be here, bonding with her.

"I've got some great Filipino stuff tucked away in my repertoire, don't know how familiar you are. But that's not my only bag of tricks, so if you ever have requests..."

Liza took one look at Dakila's little agreeable nod and burst into a fit of giggles. "Okay, that was cute," she snickered. It was a side of Dakila that she rarely got to see. He always seemed so professional -- and professionally distant, at that. Given his line of work, Liza could certainly understand why he might have come to be like that. It was probably an occupational hazard -- if not an occupational necessity. Here and now, though? She liked the Dakila who could smile and joke around and share a bottle of wine.

"I've never had Filipino food before," she admitted, leaning her elbows upon the table as she let her dinner settle. "I suppose you'll have to take me on a bit of a culinary adventure!" After a moment's consideration, she added a saucy little wink. "That is, if you think you're up for it."

Cute! Him? Never.

He sort of wanted more wine, but he wasn't about to get up to do anything about that just yet. Her confession of never having had Filipino food was no surprise--most people hadn't, and if they had, they often didn't know it. Surprise, this was Colorado. "I am up for it," he assured her. "I'll start thinking about it. I'm not my mother, but I do have at least some semblance of what she taught me still in my head."

Dakila actually knew more than that made it sound, but truly, compared to his mother he paled deeply.

"I think that's basically the rule," Liza agreed. "As good as we get with our cooking, our mothers are always going to blow us away."

Liza was, unfortunately, telling a little white lie on her mother's behalf on this one. Liza was self-taught; her mother was absolutely dreadful in the kitchen. Still, that wasn't the point.

Liza loosed a happy, contented sigh. She nursed upon the edge of her wine glass, taking a few minuscule sips as she just exulted in the moment. "This was so worth it," she said, grinning happily. "Thanks for indulging me."

"I think you mean I should thank you for all this. Seriously, Liza, above and beyond." He reached across the table, offered her a hand for a little thank-you squeeze. "You are talented and I've been glad to have you here."

If nothing else, coming back to a house that was actually lived... every night that made a difference.