Wonderful smells were filling the house and ordinarily, Marian would have been starving. But the smell that ordinarily would have had her begging Much to finish dinner was currently causing her stomach to churn. The baby clearly didn't like lamb curry. And the smell only got more strong to the point where it seemed like it was burning. She rolled her eyes and placed her hand against her stomach, mentally urging the child inside of her to calm down. Slowly, miserably, she made her way towards the kitchen, intending to open a window to let some of the smell out and then escape.
It was how she found Much, looking collapsed at the table. Her eyes traced the kitchen but she found no sign of her husband and the food was sitting unattended on the stove. She walked over, turning the heat off of the meal. For a moment, she merely eyed the room. Chopped ingredients, herbs and spices sitting on the counter, and a meal half-finished on the stovetop? That wasn't the Much she knew.
He looked tired and dejected and that was a look she knew well. It was a look she saw on Robin often enough. It was the look she'd seen on Guy from across the battlefield. Much was hurting and he needed someone. Maybe he'd want to talk, maybe he wouldn't. But he at least needed to know someone was there.
Silently scolding her child for their current behavior, she pulled the window open, letting the cold air in. It was refreshing, at least for a few minutes, and she'd get a brief reprieve from the curry smells filling the air.
She sat, then, in the chair closest to her friend, the man she considered a brother. Or, at the very least, her brother-in-law. They were family. She rested her hand on his arm, looking at his face imploringly. "You need to explain to your niece or nephew that Uncle Much is very good at cooking," she began, trying to sound more playful than worried. Even though she was very, very worried.