Who: Bobbinses Where: their flat When: Thursday evening What: discussing. Also dinner. Warnings: doubtful.
Melinda had showered and gotten Marek to help her change the bandage on her arm and shoulder, then changed into pajamas and gone to start making dinner. Her cooking wasn't exactly the best, but it was fine mostly, and she felt like cooking tonight. Her ring kept catching the light. She had the urge to take it off -- she could feel it there and it kept distracting her and it was likely to get caught on something, but she supposed she wasn't going to get used to wearing it if she did that. Thus, she kept it on and just tried to focus.
"We almost have food," Melinda called out, adding the chicken to the sauce to let it simmer a few minutes. "Come make this rice thing, I never do it right," she added, picking up a packaged rice dish that was a lot harder than, by any rights, it should have been to get right. The packaging called for too much water, the problem was, and only Marek apparently knew the right amount. She set the package down to await her brother and put the lid on the pan, then looked around for something else to fidget with so she didn't get all thinky. She'd been doing that a lot recently.