Leftovers were always good, but then Brady really wasn't picky about what he ate. Being in the Army as long as he'd been in would do that even if growing up poor and with a mom who couldn't cook worth shit hadn't. "Didn't notice if there were or not," he said, shrugging. "But then, wasn't exactly looking for that." He quirked a brow at the mention of waffles and pizza. "Yeah, you said something about pizza. Sounds good. So, you just the cook or are there actually chick convicts here, too?" he asked bluntly as he started pushing the eggs toward the center of the pan, letting the runny parts spill back over to the edges. Yes, scrambled eggs were kind of his specialty. And just like that, he was pulled into a memory, his free hand reaching out to grip the counter as the emotions crashed through him with it. Shannon's laugh as they tried to work together to make breakfast for a mother's day, their father coming into the kitchen... Don't go back there, Brady, Shannon's voice echoed in his head, but it still took all his effort to pull himself back to the present.