Re: [Log: Gym-to-be, Marta and Holly]
He noted the way she kicked the chair out. Nudged. Whatever. He noticed, but that was cool. It was kinda like holding the door, right? It wasn't overtly pity-party. And it was true that Holly didn't want to be fussed over, but consideration was still a good thing. Okay, okay, so maybe that sounded contradictory or something, but it all made sense in Holly's head. And now he was sitting, leg stretched out, and she was unpacking the bags like she was a housewife. Which, you know, remained a thing when she peeled off the coat to reveal an outfit which was, well, yeah. Housewife, which wasn't how he remembered her. Not the her here, but the her at home. Whatever. He was confusing himself. But she did look healthier, better. "You look like one of those women in classic movies. Coming in and laying out a spread in a sweater and pearls." Exaggeration? Sure. Why not?
And there was one thing that was certain: Holly loved food.
He watched her pull out the containers, and he could tell there was more stuff in the second bag. And it smelled like heaven. He didn't cook, and he would probably burn the place down if he went near a stove rn; he wasn't heavy on meds, but it was enough that he shouldn't play with fire. And when Noah cooked? They usually ended up kinda distracted partway through the process, which could totally be blamed on Holly. Holly, who was currently brandishing a fork and using it to point at the two styrofoam containers. "Which one?" he asked, assuming she was going to eat, since she was on her lunch. "Okay, work. What's that shit actually like? And the jerk is appreciative." The jerk was appreciative, and he pointed his fork at the farside door. "There's a vend type area that way. We're covered." Microwave, minifridge, all good.