milliways_bar | Two pups, two muns

After Rae speaks, Graham steps forward, into the kitchen. He doesn't move closer to them, keeping to the less populated side of the room. His hands are in his coat pockets, and he doesn't look directly at Dr. Lecter.

But he does offer Rae a brief flicker of a smile in return.

"Would you like to try when we're done?" Dr. Lecter offers, looking at Graham's face.

"There's sure to be plenty," the red-headed girl on the step-stool adds her offer, her smile brightening with the success of removing the whites from another yellow yolk without breaking it. "It'll have crushed gingerbread in it, with swirls of ginger syrup and molasses."

For extra delicious gingery-ness.

Stepping down from her step-stool, Rae brings the bowl of separated egg yolks over to where Dr. Lecter is working.

Sunlight flickers behind his eyes, as his mind flashes to Abigail Hobbs, crossing her kitchen to answer the phone.

"I haven't had it before," he says, instead of answering.

"I'm sure you're going to like it, Will," Lecter says, brandishing his spoon in an almost playful gesture.

Then, he adds syrup to the bowl, and stirs again.

"You and I can be taste-testers," she says, the girl's small smile turning into a shadow of a grin. The faint wariness of their previous meeting is still there, a little, but not nearly as pronounced. "I've never had it before, either."

And she promised to help!

"Were you able to get the bird back to its person?" Rae asks, curious.

There's a moment before his eyes flick back to Rae, and he nods.

"Yes, I did."

"How did Peter Bernadone take it?" Dr. Lecter asks.

This time remains unspoken.

The girl nods. Good. She doesn't ask if he was able to catch the criminal as well - Dr. Lecter seems to already know more about it.

Wanting to be of use, Rae moves the no-longer needed, empty bowls to the sink, spreads out a clean dishtowel on the counter beside it, and begins washing the dishes so they won't have to deal with them later.

He's still watching Rae. But now Graham has no choice but to directly answer Dr. Lecter.

Quietly, "Peter has a few problems."

Dr. Lecter nods, minutely, once.

"Which do you think are the worst?"

The worst? Rae thought this Peter was the person who had been taking care of the bird, the one who tried to help change things for the better. The girl looks over her shoulder, quizzically, and catches Will watching her.

Suddenly, she feels like she's intruding on something. Rae turns away again, concentrating on scrubbing.

Graham lets out a breath.

"He relied on the wrong person to help him."

"That can happen to the best of us," Dr. Lecter says, turning to Rae.

"Thank you for tidying up already, Rae," he says. "Did I mention that in cooking competitions, workspace organisation and efficiency in dealing with the dishes while going along is a relevant data point, not just the taste wand presentation of the outcome? You seem to be a natural in this point as well."

"I didn't know that," the girl smiles, rather pleased at the compliment. She dries her hands on her apron. "...'ve not seen a lot of cooking competitions. It's just easier to clean-up as one goes, so you don't have to worry about it later."

Dirty dishes build up surprisingly quickly, she knows. Now she is left wondering what tv channel she could find cooking competitions on - yet another reason to try and avoid her mother's wrath, in addition to all the normal reasons.

But even with the prospect of cooking shows, she's curious. So, greatly daring, she asks, "He was relying on the one who did the crime?"

During this discussion, he finally looks away, pulling out a chair to take a seat.

There's another pause at Rae's question, but then Graham nods.

"He was."

"In the end, he realised he had been used," Dr. Lecter says. "At least in my world. My Will helped him -- but I don't know what Will here did? Our worlds are already different."

The girl's expression darkens faintly, in sympathy for the unknown Peter who was betrayed by one he had trusted. She doesn't know what that feels like, personally, but imagines it would be horrible.

"Worlds can do that?" she asks, after a moment. How weird it would be, to meet a friend you know but who comes from a different version of your world. "I think... I'm the only one who comes here from my world. Nobody here's heard of Independencia, or Others, and most peoples' worlds don't even have magic."

Which is weird, to say the least.

"Worlds might vary as much as the people who experience them," Graham suggests, quietly.

"Here we touch on the theory," Dr. Lecter says, "that every person experiences reality differently, there is no objective observable truth, and everybody is hence a world to themselves. Communication and understanding could only ever be an illusion. Isn't that the very opposite of that you do?"

Pause.

"Rae's world is not an illusion; I have seen books from there."

Much of this goes over the ten-year-old's head.

Much of it.

But she considers the idea, anyway, or tries. It's true that some of the hype-heads and derelicts in Old Town experience reality very differently from most people. But every person doing so? 'No objective observable truth' makes it sound like the whole world is all in one's head.

"I've... heard of people being off in their own little world, when they're day-dreaming, but all that makes it sound like the actual world itself is just... something people make up as they go." War and death and destruction and all. She struggles to put her thoughts into words. "Like, if there is no obj... objective observable truth, there is no actual real reality for everyone to be experiencing and interpreting. They can't experience something that doesn't exist."

Rae shakes her head - she doesn't buy it. Or get it, really. "The... world I come from is real enough, without needing me to interpret it."

"You raise some excellent points, Rae," Dr. Lecter says. "While philosophy can do whatever it likes and has been doing so for some centuries, at least, it's better we keep our eyes on some sane gauge for reality, with our head up and our feet down, in order to not go off into our own little world."

He smiles, pouring a tiny dash of ginger syrup into the ice cream.

"From that, I conclude that the worlds which Will here, and the other people from our shared past, now all are slightly different, because things are happening for them that haven't happened for me."

Graham doesn't move, and doesn't say anything during this. From the way he watches the wall, rather than either of them, someone who didn't know better might think he wasn't really paying attention. But he's not going anywhere else right now.

Then he asks, abruptly, "Why do you cook with Dr. Lecter, Rae?"

His tone is distant, but otherwise it's nothing unusual. He doesn't look at her when he asks it.

Sunshine blinks at him in mild surprise, thinking on the question.

"Because I enjoy it?" she says hesitantly, glancing at Dr. Lecter before looking back at Will. It's the most pertinent point, but doesn't fully answer the question. "I mean, I like cooking good food, and I like learning new things and trying new recipes for things I've never made before, and Dr. Lecter knows more about cooking than I do, and I enjoy talking with him, and cooking is sometimes just more enjoyable when it's not by yourself."

Like the good food that results, the experience of cooking is better when shared with someone else.

"Lots of reasons," the girl finishes, lamely.

"Rae is a very apt pupil, quite gifted at what she does, and I'm honoured she likes to learn from me," Dr. Lecter says, smiling at Graham.

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