When not performing or stalking around cemeteries, Todd was always one to be found behind the stove, cooking up yet another concoction that consisted out of ingredients bought on the fly. Somehow, those concoctions always turned out eatable, which was the product of years and years watching his mother and aunt try to cook up soul food out of whatever that particular town had to offer - and whatever their wallet could afford. Sometimes, it wasn't much, but sometimes it was enough to eat off it for days. Not to mention, in his culture, it was polite to have something brewing on the stove in case of guest. And guests were obligated to eat. Simple as that. That, and he was now used to cooking for the ill, so that's what he did.
But Rob? Unfortunately enough, ate like shit. And so, surrounded by potatoes, leeks, beef and cheese, he'd started to cook. At home first, with enough breaks in between to to smoke a cigarette and answer to Hades. But when the food had cooled, Todd came over to Rob's place, armed with dutch ovens and a pie. And it was good shit too. Creamy scalloped potatoes with Monterey Jack and Chipotle, coconut pie, Smoky beef and leek stew and last but not least; chicken and sausage soup. Healthy shit.
He was at the stove, heating it up when someone rang at the door. With a look at Rob, he put the spoon down and finally crossed his arms. "So, I might have invited Hades."