ellectrical | (no subject)

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She's done this enough that she knows where to look in X's kitchen without having to ask. It's been about fifteen minutes she started, and various vegetables are scattered across the counters, one steel pot already on the stove. A look into the latter would indicate she's making soup, though it's not as simple as the kind X likes to order, nor is it coming out of can, the way Elle would normally choose.

At the moment, she's standing aside from the stove, using a large knife to slice up carrots across a cutting board. Elle's careful about it, the knife hitting the board at even and precise intervals.

(This really isn't her favorite part of cooking.)

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She gives another small shrug, glancing over at the oven again.

"Sometimes I like doing the harder things first."

"Okay," X says agreeably.

The timer goes off.

"I'll get it," she says, putting her spoon down.

"Okay," she repeats.

Elle, after all, knows where everything is.

Farrah and Steve follow her into the kitchen. Just in case she drops any food.

Elle nudges the cats out of the way with her feet as she pulls the oven door open. The tray is taken out and placed on the stove next to the pot.

After a moment of staring at the loaf, "I think it has to cool."

"Minutes are okay," X says, pitching her voice to be heard from the kitchen.

It does not take much.

"To make it easier to cut."

She picks up the knife, playing with it idly between her fingers while they wait.

"But you're okay?" she asks.

Again.

"Yes," X repeats.

She uses this brief span of time to feed the cats. It keeps them from being underfoot, at least.

For a few minutes.

"It has been quiet."

She's still playing with the knife. There are a couple close calls, but she doesn't seem to notice them.

"And that's good."

There's only a touch of uncertainty to it.

"People worry less," X says carefully. "When I say that."

She's silent for a second.

"And it is good when people are not dying."

"You don't want me to worry?"

A single spark snaps from one of her fingers to the blade. Someone may be getting a little distracted.

"You know missions are better."

It seems self-evident to X.

Elle lowers the knife and starts slicing into the bread.

"But you haven't had one."

"Training exercises. Sometimes."

She doesn't sound frustrated.

"There is a larger operation. But it is in the planning stages."

She nods, cutting the bread into even slices.

... well, close enough, anyway.

"Do you want to do something? Now?"

(Elle can ask the want question, too.)

X considers that carefully, gaze fixed on Elle.

"If it were effective. Or efficient."

Which is to say 'yes'.

She pulls out another plate and moves the now sliced bread over to it.

"What do you do instead?"

It's not that Elle doesn't think she knows the answer. But with X, she rarely feels there's anything that, for whatever reason, she shouldn't ask.

"I have been helping rewire the store. Downstairs."

Mr Simmons has many skills. Plus, you know, friends.

"And helping Tomas with homework. He does not like mathematics."

Beat.

"And I work. At Milliways."

She breaks off here to get the butter out of the fridge.

Elle returns with the bread.

"It helps?"

"I like to be busy," is X's response.

"And useful."

It is not quite a yes. But it's close.

"I know."

She slips back into her seat. With another small shrug, "That's usually how it is."

"It is okay," X says.

She tries not to sound uncertain.

She smiles, and nods, nothing false or uncertain about it.

"I know."

Elle reaches for a slice of the bread, and starts pulling it apart between her hands.

"I just -"

Beat. She's staring at the bread, but only in apparent concentration.

Eventually, "It's weird."

X stays silent, watching Elle.

She does not break her gaze even while she starts buttering her bread.

It is easier, at the moment, than asking a question.

Plus she is not sure what to say.

It is weird for her, too.

It seems to take Elle a minute to notice that X is watching her. She shifts a little in her chair.

"Some of the stuff I'm doing now - I don't think it's - it doesn't make me useful."

She doesn't look away when she continues, "It's still okay."