Since Virgil came up with the idea to cook just now, he thought about what they were about to cook for a moment. With a vague idea in his head, he asked Carson, “Say, what’s your comfort food?”

“Hmm…” Carson scratched his head, taking some time to recall his past.

“Take your time.”

Carson’s fingers fidgeted as he really took his time, and he finally said something. “…Bread. Yeah, I liked bread.”

“Sounds nice.”

Carson nodded. “And what about you?”

“Mine’s soup, ate that a lot when I was a kid.” As Virgil answered, he recalled what they had in the pantry. “We could make a bread soup. What’d you think of it?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright, we’ll need…”

Virgil headed to the pantry shelves, looking for the ingredients as Carson helped‌. Then Carson boiled the water, while Virgil chopped the ingredients.

Since the recipe wasn’t that complicated, Virgil let Carson put the chopped ingredients in the boiling pot, knowing that there’s not much room for mistakes. After that, Virgil seasoned the soup with some spices from the pantry, and tasted it on a spoon.

“Is it ready?” Carson asked, looking at Virgil taking a few uncertain sips.

With the spices that kicked his tongue to his right amount, Virgil wasn’t sure if this would be palatable to Carson—John’s palate was similar to him, but Virgil was way less sensitive to the heat. So he had one thing left to do. “Grab a spoon and try it yourself.”

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Carson tried the soup, too. Upon noticing his surprised look, Virgil asked, “Too spicy?”

“Nope, it’s great. Just a bit spicier than what I’m used to.”

Taking a note of Carson’s reaction, Virgil added some remaining ingredients and spices to the soup. Even if this meal was mainly meant for John, he wanted Carson to enjoy it, too.

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As Carson prepared the dining table, while Virgil was filling the bowls with the soup they just made—John arrived with a surprised look and a composed posture.

“You’re not practicing?” John asked Virgil, as Carson plopped him down on the dining chair—as John responded by his usual snark towards Carson.

“Oh, I’ve finished today’s practice. We’ve got some free time, so…” Virgil placed a bowl in front of John. “We cooked you something.”

“We… Did Carson cook too?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not poisoning you, y’know,” Carson interrupted, knowing that John would follow that up with another snarky comment. But John only chuckled, not saying anything else.

As Carson and Virgil joined in the dining table, Virgil noticed how John occasionally stared into the space in front of him, and being a bit unresponsive when Carson nudged him for a chat. But if Carson didn’t pick that up, Virgil wouldn’t point that out. He could be reading too deep, after all.

“Well, let’s dig in,” Virgil said, as he took a few bites, while glancing at John and Carson.

He hoped to make John feel a little better today, too.

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While Virgil was still eating and letting his mind wander, John had already finished his bowl and headed off to the sink. Carson then joined in, too. While Virgil had already expected to hear the usual banters from the two, he also heard something worrying from them—starting from when Carson began to raise his tone.

“Dude, I can wash this myself—”

“Nope. Just go play with your trinkets or whatever.”

“I can wash dishes, y’know. You think Virgil’s the one washing all the dishes when you’re gone?”

“I’m not trusting you with the dishes—”

“Bullshit. It’s been years since I broke a dish. You can go write or whatever, I can do this—”

Even if Virgil knew both of them could sort this on their own, somehow, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should be the mediator in this situation.