Who: Willa Davidson & James Hawkins Where: Willa's trailer, Dog Park What: Rodeo has things to talk to Willa about, also, whatever passes for cooking these days When: October 7th, (late) dinnertime
I'm all alone at midnight And my lamp is burnin' low Ain't never had so much Trouble in my life before
Butter was an easy luxury, after taking Noa's advice and asking the prospects and patches she knew well enough to keep an eye out for a food processor whenever they were in a home goods section, or a well-appointed kitchen. She suspected it was the promise of real butter and buttermilk that earned such a swift response from John Snow (Zeke swore his name had been earned because he knew literally nothing, but from the source Willa had learned his name was just John, until he'd found an actual sword in someone's apartment and brought it back to camp the week before she'd arrived), and she'd already paid him back with the product of his efforts, plus some given to the resource refrigerator cases, too. Butter, as Paula Deen had espoused in her glory days, made everything better; particularly potted meats. Willa kept the heat low enough to keep the fat from burning, high enough that the spam steaks sizzled when she turned them over in the pan. If she'd known earlier in the morning to plan for a guest Willa might have held two eggs for herself, asked Ruth if there was any pineapple to be had, and made a Hawaiian-themed, protein heavy breakfast for dinner. The vegetable lentil soup wasn't awful -- cream of anything, those were the soups Willa had always avoided -- and she gave the saucepan a stir before a knock on the door interrupted her base display of cooking.
She pulled the dishtowel from where she'd tucked it into the front pockets of her jeans as a makeshift apron and moved to answer the door rather than shouting for the knocker to come in. "Hi," Willa said, letting the door swing out into his hand before stepping back up into her little home. "C'mon in." It wasn't the first time he'd been there, but it was the first time he'd intentionally been the one to seek her out, and Willa moved back to the stove, leaving the conversation in James' hands while her own took up the spatula.