Relax, relax. I'm not gonna do anything. It's just annoying. It's stupid, not being able to do the stuff I usually do around here.
[He huffs. It's more than just the magic, really. Resting is hard. He wants to do things and contribute and not just hang around like he's a freeloader in his own damn house.]
[He's used to looks like that, unfortunately. They're kind of worse now that he knows there's actually weird things about his face to look at. But surprisingly, she lets it go and moves onto the practical things.]
Oh, uh. Yeah, actually. It's usually either me or Dipper who does the cooking. Ford's not allowed - if we let him he'd probably serve us a perfectly balanced pill on a platter or something.
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I would find that more reassuring if I couldn't hear the quotation marks in your tone.
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[He huffs. It's more than just the magic, really. Resting is hard. He wants to do things and contribute and not just hang around like he's a freeloader in his own damn house.]
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[ She eyes him doubtfully for another few moments, then figures that's enough looking for now. ]
Is one of those things cooking dinner?
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Oh, uh. Yeah, actually. It's usually either me or Dipper who does the cooking. Ford's not allowed - if we let him he'd probably serve us a perfectly balanced pill on a platter or something.
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She raises her eyebrows, amused. ]
Hardly a new idea... I'll be impressed if he can make it taste like anything but dirt.
I suppose you're adjusting to using a normal stove, then.