2019-07-08 - Anything Can Be a Date

Getting to Casa de O'Malley, Michael pulls up the short driveway to the house overlooking the Pacific. It's a nice house though a bit aged in places, it looks like it must have had some refurbishment done before he'd moved in. A fresh coat of gray-blue with dark blue legitimate shutters on the windows. The house is perched a touch precariously on the side of the hill, but that's the price of the view. He doesn't have much of a lawn, but what he does have is mown and the hedges all look to be in relatively decent repair.

Walking inside the house is a single floor, but wide and deep, so there is still plenty of space for rooms. The front door opening into a living room with a plush leather couch with matching chairs opposite a coffee table and large standard issue television. Passing through an open archway leads to a kitchen with all the modern amenities including granite counter-tops, steel appliances and an island. Adjacent to the kitchen is a small dining area that seems to seldom be used, and is mostly just a spot to set things down or work on projects. Like cleaning his rifle.

Off the living room leads a hallway that leads to a bedroom, an office, and a bathroom. The first and last having standard furniture, while the office is dominated by a squat-cage with flat bench and heavy bag.

Walking Lilith in through the doors, he sets her bag near the door and says, "Let me show you around." .. and shows her the above, taking her from room to room so that she knows where everything is.

Lilith stops being so chatty in the car on the way from her place to Michael's place, other than explaining she 'gets activity in here and there' in regards to the workout question. She seems to be a bit thoughtful or watchful out the windows, not in a bothered or uncomfortable way, really. But it proves she doesn't have to be filling the gaps of air and space all the time with quips or questions and occasionally she's slipping side glances at the driver.

When she gets out, though, and the house is on a rise to ensure ocean view, she makes a noise of small delight in her throat and lifts her brows some at Michael on the way in. She does the tour around with him, wondering as they walk, "Did you fix the actual house up yourself or was it move-in ready like this? Your view is pretty stellar."

And all that caution she had in her place isn't really absent, however, it's not forefront. It's more unwitting ticks of reminder here and there creeping up.

"I painted it and installed new appliances with my home loan. I also planted a tree out front, you probably didn't even see it though, it's still pretty small. I figure in a few years it'll add some value," Mike answers as he walks her around with her, a hand never far from her, but he isn't holding her up since she seems to be doing a good job of staying on her feet on her own. As they walk around, he points to a spot where he has hung up a few pictures. "That's my folks, mom, dad, my brother Jesse," he mentions and points at a group of normal looking people. His brother looks a bit like him but is apparently an inch or two taller, has a beard, a gut, and a slightly different cheek structure. But there's no doubting that those are his parents, he takes a bit from each. Mr. O'Malley is a real good looking older man.

Walking her further along, he indicates the couch and says, "And here is the couch, m'lady. Are you thirsty? Hungry again?" he asks, trying to make her comfortable.

There's a moment where Lilith really stops to look at pictures while walking with Michael on the house tour. Her dark head tilts a bit and she seems reflective for a few passing heartbeats before moving right along, lips tugging with small smile as his hand turns out to indicate the couch. Instead of just sitting, though, she makes a show of getting right out of her flip flop sandals with little kicks, then starts to lower before downright stretching out, arching her back with arms going up over her head with reaching and then curling bend to drop at casual lay. Nevermind that she's wearing a little lazy slip of violet sundress, still, and that hemline is kind of doing whatever it wants with rise. Bandages are sexy, aren't they?

Once she's all sprawled for show, she wiggles a little to test the comfort level, supposedly, before pushing up straight and making a tiny 'ow' noise when she does it too quick with reflex, "I approve of your couch. And your house. I like that it has pictures. And mm. I am not hungry. But..." She pauses, then ventures, "Odds of you having beer?" A hand lifts to knock her hair out of tousle from wiggling around, then she starts to absently and half-ass twist it back before realizing she forgot a hair tie, giving up to let it unfurl slow back to loose state.

Watching her drop on the couch, he gives it a thought and asks, "I'll get you a beer, but if you have any pain, I'll have to get you an edible or something; I wouldn't want you to have issues with your percocet," he explains and goes over to the fridge and comes back with a bottle of beer which he opens for her in a manner similar to how he'd opened her water for her, but this time he does it the whole way, sparing her hands. It's some local variety of craft beer. "I don't know if this stuff is any good, but I heard it's local," he mentions as he hands it over. Grabbing himself a beer as well, he pops the top off and takes a seat next to her for a breather.

Indicating the television then, he goes on, "So, I have all the normal options, in case I'm out or asleep and you're bored."

"Oh right. I forgot to take that with the antibiotic, anyway. I think the whole distraction of you makes me hurt a little less. But thanks." Lilith is actually... starting to look a little more animated and lively in the eyes, but it might be tricks of light on the deep blue of her eyes. Her curtains were kept drawn tight and she was in a loft apartment with a lot of lazy refurbished antique lamp lighting before. Maybe she's not entirely exaggerating for flattery on Michael's part. She might actually have an inkling of just feeling better and her eyes flit around a whole lot less in moments between spells of talking or during settling. Drawing in a huge breath of air after taking a first sip of the opened beer and holding it out to eye the label while swallowing, she looks back at Michael and wonders, "Your family is all back in Boston or elsewhere? And are you close or just that pleasant somewhere inbetween?"

"Sure. The edibles are there," Mike mentions and points, in case she wants to help himself when he isn't there for that, as well. "And you're welcome," he says and smiles broadly at her. Kicking his feet up on the padded coffee table, he glances over at her when she starts to talk about his family and nods his head. "Boston, my brother is a teamster, my dad is a cop, my mom is a nurse. We're a family, I don't know if I'd say we're super close, my brother is much closer, since he's still around and didn't enlist and all that, and he has kids," he explains. Looking her over as she stretches and moves on his couch, he asks, "Do you want kids?"

"Oh-ho. Uncle Mikey. I dig it." Lilith follows Michael's gesturing offer with her eyes toward the place of foodstuffs and grins a little at him for some reason before taking a drink of her beer. Then she shifts with resettling after a moment of sitting still, edging herself with tiny scoot to close the gap between hip to hip while seated on the couch with the guy, because that's a super not-subtle sign for an arm sling invite. Listening to his explanation on family, she nods a little as if perfectly satisfied with that answer, and in fact, she looks a little bit pleased with it.

After another drink of her beer, she explains in brief, "I used to want a siblings. Hank needed more kids like a hole in the head, in retrospect, but..." Her bared shoulders hitch a little bit before she lifts her chin a smidge and informs, "I would lock the 'cool aunt' position down like no other, I think. Sounds fun."

The inquiry that comes next kind of pauses her, though, and the brunette woman bats her lashes a few times before she tells Mike with a look his way, "Here's the thing about having a bad childhood..." She wets her lips, "Sometimes, you think you don't deserve kids. You know the phrase about the 'sins of our fathers' and all that jazz, mm? I worry that maybe there's a trickle down effect, like I didn't get the love and nurture that a lot of people naturally get. So would I know how to do that? Would they live paying my sins the way I pay Hank's? Would they come out like him or me in the ways they shouldn't if they really want to be happy?" That last one. It's heavy sounding for reasons she doesn't look like she's about to go into, brows drawing down just a touch as she changes thoughtflow after another tidbit, "I've never held a baby. I don't know what it feels like."

"But..." Lilith's voice turns toward admittance with gentler rise and fall and delicate pauses, "Maybe I'd be amazing at it. I'd know all the things not to do. And if they come out a little broken on accident, I'll know how to show them how to turn that into strength. And I -want- to hold a baby to see what it's like. The fascination of seeing something so small, so innocent, so sweet, so needy, and... so many possibilities. I find the idea of kids terrifying. But it doesn't stop me from wanting them one day, I think. I honestly... mostly tried not to think about it."

The not so subtle sign is taken advantage of, and Mike loops his arm around her, though his arm might be a bit 'heavier' than she had possibly been bargaining for unless she leans forward and against him so that she's more in the crook of his armpit and the weight of his arm isn't on her. He nods about the siblings thing, "It doesn't sound like your dad was abusive, just uh.. shitty? I think you'd have liked having an older brother or sister, take some of the weight off you," he agrees, just from what he'd heard. "And you could still be a cool aunt, though if it's my nieces and nephews, they're like, a million miles away--" he mentions, in that way that future discussions are available, but he isn't trying to imply that they are there yet.

Listening to her tale of having children, he listens attentively and nods when appropriate. "I get what you're saying, and I think I can empathize with that anxiety, and were we to get together in a long term sense, I'd be open to kids, but I'm not going to pressure you. Ever. I'm sort of like," he pauses, thinking about how to phrase it, "I don't necessarily want children, but if the woman I'm with, in a committed long term, responsibly managed relationship wants them? I'm not going to say no."

"As to how your childhood would affect you? I think that's just anxiety. Reasonable anxiety. Everyone worries they'd be less than stellar, but the fact that you're thinking about it tells me that you're sane and would try, and a parent that tries is worth ten Hanks. From what I've heard," he adds that last, just to be clear he's only going on what he has heard from her.

"Depends on what you consider abuse. He disappeared for days sometimes. My first real clear memory is having to crawl on everything because I was hungry and couldn't reach and ol' Daddy Hank had been gone a day. I think I was barely four. And I remember it specifically because... I felt smart figuring out how to make the can open and finding a can of soup, not Spam. And I knew you were supposed to punch numbers on the microwave, so I did that and I was so mad when it wouldn't start, because I couldn't read the start button. I knew fire made things hot fine. So I learned to use the stove." Lilith tells Michael while she shifts even more to do the thing for comfort she's naturally inclined to do, having made that physical invite and gaining the accepting sling weight and rest of his arm so he can curl it more about her.

After drinking from her beer, her head shakes a little bit, and she doesn't really seem upset, it's just the ridiculous way things were for her and luckily she was a clever little girl, sounds like.

Her lips turn upward, suddenly, and she laughs aloud with a brief huff, shifting her eyes up to look at Michael's more directly, "You know why I used to lie to DHS and teachers and anyone who asked if I was okay at home? Because Hank told me policemen would come and take me away. And I thought... that meant jail."

"Cute that I'm sitting here with a cop, remembering that. You did just take me away from home for my own damn good." Lilith says after a pause, seeming backhanded charmed despite the tiny click of her tongue that comes before tack on.

Stroking her hair back from her face so that he can see her face a bit better, Mike is warm and smells like some sort of wash, a touch of gun oil because he's always carrying, and shampoo. He smells nice. "Well, you figured it out, and yeah, that sounds rough, we would have taken you away from that, for your own good," he mentions, but doesn't get too into that, because he worries he's going to step into something talking about this stuff too much. "So what's the story with SPAM, since you brought it up again?" he asks, looking down at her.

Getting a call then, rather out of seemingly nowhere, he pulls out his phone, glances at it and then answers. "Hey," he answers and listens to a voice on the other end. Though his phone isn't exactly cranked up, the voice on the other end does sound masculine, in case Lilith is listening intently.

Slowly he separates from her and holds up a finger and mouths the words, "It'll be quick, be right back," and walks towards the balcony, talking to whoever it is on the other end. "Oh, cool, nice, yeah, just finished moving in." Pause. "I'm on a date, so I can't talk long can you call me tomorrow?" he is saying.

"I don't fucking know, he just loves it, he thinks it's amazing and will lecture laud it. That and canned mustard sardines, and I just... I'm pretty sure being literally pickled and preserved by eating that crap and drinking all the time is the reason he's going to outlive all of us. Guy's weird." Lilith groans with answer, but she -might- be considered a little strange at this point too, considering, especially with some holes left contextually. The woman makes a dismissive noise, then, in her throat, newly distracted as she tilts her head into Michael some with the stroke of hair away from her face. She takes to briefly nuzzling her nose with turn of face right into him, cozy in the special little hardbody nook of comfort and... well, protection. The man has no clue what just sitting and shielding the woman might actually be preventing, keeping her bubbled and still.

After inhale, she claims, "You smell good." Then when Michael answers the phone and starts to rise to go for the balcony to answer, she makes a whine noise in her throat and seems like she's about to roll pounce him in straddle to keep him down. Instead, she goes politely quiet and rests her cheek at one side of his shirt at the chest, fingers curling at his shirt to try and hold him there as cozy safenook.

Also she kind of forgets he's a cop and might have actual business until after doing that to be cute. But let's face it, the man wouldn't be held down if he didn't want to be.

She pretends not to listen, though. At least until he says he's on a date. Then her lips twitch and she turns her face to start snuffling him a bit loudly and deliberately in different places on his shirt to make him distracted, a series of exaggerated man-inhales for proving her point.

The answer about the food is simultaneously expected as part of her daddy issues, and a touch disappointing. He doesn't show it, but he'd been hoping it was some antic from some other part of her life.

So rooted by her grabbing, Mike sits there instead of wandering off, talking on the phone about some issue that apparently requires congratulations and clarifications on the area of Gray Harbor, his job, and how busy he is. She also hears his salary, though frankly that isn't too surprising, he is a public servant, but PD usually do alright.

He is aware of her nuzzling and her sniffing at him in a way that really is distracting, but which he somehow manages to ignore. Like a sniper ignoring flies on their face. Like a damn Marine. Oo-rah. He just focuses on the phone for several long moments while she snuffles when suddenly she hears him sucking on one of his fingers, follow shortly after by him sticking it into her ear. "Oh, yep, right, later.." he works the words in.

And while there might have been an indication that the person on the other end of the phone had gotten off he continues to talk. "Yes, Washington state, not D.C.," he goes on, rambling a little. His tone somehow different.

Mid-conversation he goes on, "Like a C-cup?" he answers the person on the other end of the phone. "Firm? I haven't touched it," he answers, and seems to be speculating on her ass, looking around the curve of her body speculatively.

Okay, Lilith was being annoying and a little noisy, but she was mostly trying to keep the polite quiet while doing that and treating Michael like a smell aphrodisiac or something to catnip react to. However, when he basically wet willies her, she makes a muffled squeal noise into his shirt that slips as other end audible, in potential. Probably sounds less innocent from the other end. Assuming anyone is even on the other end at that point! After a glance upward with snort at Michael after she squirms, she grazes her teeth with feigned warning bite over a pec muscle before going still and polite again. She doesn't seem to really catch on at first. Then suddenly, she -does- bite him right where she warned, teeth snagging his shirt material with the pinch of it.

The woman -might- have believed he was still talking to someone until he starts speculating visibly on her ass, then that's a little tip off to add a tiny swat at his stomach with the bite, "... faker."

The bite only earns her a bit more wet willy time, but he lets up when she catches on. "Distractor," Mike replies and puts the obviously now unused phone down on the coffee end-table beside him. Smiling down at her, he says, "Sorry about that, my cousin. We don't talk often, he lives in Illinois. He's a few years younger, got promoted from managing three stores to managing sixteen, so he's super excited," he explains. "He was talking about possibly coming out to visit, we'll see," he gives her the details. Not going too deep, but just a quick grazing of details to include her in his life.

Putting his feet back up on the cushioned coffee table, he rubs at his pec with one hand. "How's your beer by the way?" he asks, since she hadn't commented on the particular variety.

"Ohmygodstoppit, if you want me wet, do it -right-." Lilith practically hurls those words out in fast motion without even stopping to think during squirm and whine and ducking turn of head in protest to the second slick finger to ear attack, taken with a little shudder shiver afterwards. Then she pretends she didn't say that at all after her whine tinged bout of reaction and laughter, taking the turnabout accusation of being distracting with a look that seems a lot like a silent, "So?" while he takes to resettling with feet up. She does it while drinking from that beer bottle, then she holds it out again to look at the label before deciding, "It's not piss beer. It's not the best beer. But it's pretty damn decent."

The fact that she's moving so freely and squirming without being in pain is a good sign, some of it must be in her head, and she's definitely not feeling as much anxiety. Mike withdraws the hand from near her ear at her protestation and leaves it against her side. Not that he's ignoring what she said. Sipping from his beer a bit, he asks, "So, what's your preference?" he asks, so that he can probably get it the next time he's out, because he's cool like that.

Sliding away from her he leans forward and grabs a remote and sets them down on the arm of the couch for a moment as he re-arms around her.

Picking up the remote, he turns on the TV and if she's tech savvy she'd recognize the interface for being a Firestick. All the apps there, he considers for a moment and then flips over to some app that leads to a laundry list of movies which he starts to scroll through. Content to sit in the quiet.

"Stella Artois. Heineken. Pale lagers, Belgian-styles, things like that. Oddly, Peroni is good too, I had that at an Italian place semi-recently and I was surprised that they knew how to do that and not just wine well. But I really like Dos Equis, too, with lots of lime and salt." Lilith tells Michael with quick answer on the matter of beer and honestly, she does seem a few shades of night and day differences while good and distracted and not paranoid or miserable with one thing or another aching or... more things happening to make her ache more.

When he starts scrolling movies, though, she lapses into quiet too because she suddenly seems very interested in what it is he's going to pick. What someone picks could very well tell another what level of Netflix and Chill is prone or not-prone to happen. But while he's scrolling, she wonders quite broadly and impromptu, "What's your favorite thing to do in the whole world? Anything. Doesn't matter if it's something weird like peeling sunburn."

"Assuming you don't mean things like eating a steak, fuckin' or reading a good book? Because those are all really obvious?" Mike questions as he continues to scroll movies.

"Those are perfectly legitimate and... maybe obvious things. I'm also going to assume you aren't gross and eat steak the right way. But you're free to throw me another." Lilith tells Michael with a quiet half-laugh that puffs air over her lips, briefly peeling herself from the cozy arm nook and man to put her beer bottle on the table after she drains it. And that much leaning forward does make her wince with pain shot of remembering, but she largely plays it off, hair pitching a bit of a curtain for hiding the expression. The moment is only really betrayed by the way she pauses there and levels back more slowly into place, watching the scroll and man in turns.

"Then those would be my three answers. I have steak with a bit of seasoning salt, no sauce, medium, with onions, mushrooms and a baked potato when I'm being a bit naughty with extra butter and cheese and sour cream," Mike mentions with a laugh and then goes on, "Fuckin' because.. obvious, and reading a novel in the bathtub. Not in that order, but at any given time, one of those things might be better than the others." That being said, he asks, "You?" and goes back to scrolling movies and finally settles on Stranger than Fiction. Since they've both seen it, and he knows she likes it.

When she pauses with that semi-hidden wince of pain, he puts a hand on her back and massages her very gently. Trying to ease her, slightly.

"Well sir, I also like all of those things, but that's copycatting instead of obvious. I like taking things apart. I always have. I like to see how they work and tick. I didn't always know how to put the things I pulled apart back together again, mind, and it's not just limited to 'stuff'. It's just the way my mind works a lot of the time. If I know something that's not just passing interest, I often want to know why or how. It's occasionally problematic." Lilith explains to Mike with answering once she's cozy again, the line of her spine flexing subtle under the massaging touch in response.

The woman lifts a hand to push her hair away from her face and looks at Michael a moment in quiet, one that's perhaps just a little thick with considering, before she looks at the television screen. When he puts on her stated fave and familiar as far as movies go, she turns her face inward to kiss where she bit prior, lips drifting with hang there before she smiles some upward and looks back at the screen.

"See, that's why you shouldn't have let me state the obvious stuff, because it's something every healthy adult likes," Mike points out with a laugh and looks down at her once she gets herself cozy again and continues to rub at her back a little. Moving from her back up to the back of her neck to gently massage, his hand cupping the width of her neck.

When she kisses his chest, he looks down at her and smiles back, appreciating her touch.

"This good then?" he asks, pretty sure of the answer, but not wanting to assume. She could very well have preferred to watch something other than her fave.

There's a slow and deep draw of breath when Michael's hand shifts from touch at the woman's back, on up to gentle massage at the neck, head rolling some off to one side, then the other with gradual stretch and soak up of pleasurable knead at her sore little body. Her legs make shift to curl up alongside herself with more angled weight in tiny slide there in her cozy place against his body.

With eyes still on the screen initially, she makes tiny hum of appreciative response, then swaps her eyes up to him, lashes batting one singular time to suit the request. "Mhm. Good. Kiss me?" There's a bare pause, then quiet carry on, "I want to see if you're any good at it. We're grown and you already called this a date instead of a rescue operation." Lilith asks this of Michael like it's any other question she's been asking, the same uptick of tone at the end with curiosity to see how he answers. But she also sounds like she's tacking a disclaimer there in the event she needs to play it off and he refuses.

The hand spreads and cups the back of her head at her request and he leans in to give her a kiss, using a proper ratio of lip and tongue, he gently sucks on her lower lip, pulling it away between his lips. Sitting back then, he looks up at the movie and doesn't get into correcting or talking about whether it was a rescue operation or a date. "And to be honest, like I said, anything can be a date, even a rescue operation," he points out with a smile and leans in for another kiss, this time on her forehead.

Relaxing his hand from the back of her head, he resumes cupping the side of her against him in that comforting nook.

Whatever she might think of his kissing, good or bad, he is apparently confident enough not to inquire of her opinion. Even though she'd put it to him like it was a challenge.

Lilith is passive at first after that forward request, letting the man come to her with angled upward tip of her face to meet lips for lips. She sweeps her tongue in momentary playful dance when she kicks in to kiss right back, though, taking a tiny spell to exhale into it and mingle breath. The brunette doesn't amp things or seem particularly gauging through any of it, despite her disclaimer. Though for just a fraction of a heartbeat, it seems she might, especially when Michael traps her lower lip with suction on pullback.

When it ends and the kiss at her forehand lands, though, she closes her eyes and marginally presses into the gesture with forward head tilt before his hand and arm slip to slide and hold her in place against with resume. She watches the movie for a good while and doesn't give an opinion. She's easy and calm and lets it sink in, instead, but eventually she says, "... pass."

Apparently, whatever she thinks, he didn't fail.

For the next hour plus of movie, Mike seems content to just sit and watch the movie. His hand doesn't creep those last few inches up her side to get a little side-boob action, he doesn't try to sneak in any more kisses, though he responds to any requests or looks with appropriate touches. Not the least bit shy, but seemingly willing to just enjoy her company and watch the movie. When it ends, he turns his wrist to check the time and remarks, "It's time for supper, what are you hungry for? I'll cook something," he proposes.

"Spaghetti." Lilith doesn't even hesitate before popping that out because absolutely little in life is more annoying than the back and forth of what to eat between a man and a woman. That doesn't mean he has the stuff for it and she's not sounding like she isn't willing to compromise or anything, but she apparently wants to carb load in some fashion or just has an urge. Then she ups the ante just to see if she can, lips twitching a little bit with the movie perhaps prompting the hankering on the next front, "And a cupcake."

Over time, while watching the movie, Lilith has taken more and more angled side shift against Michael so that her cheek is practically at mid-diaphragm, a foot occasionally at back and forth wiggle of tick against the couch where it rests. Just because she answers and he says it's time to eat, though, doesn't mean she's moving immediately. But at some point there, she starts to shift to allow that getting up thing, "I like this rescue operation better than your first one. Even though the first one might have been, you know, necessary."

"I have the stuff for spaghetti, but cupcake, there will be no cupcake," Mike says and seems to find that answer acceptable. Whether she'd have had to have a back and forth with him will remain a mystery. Sliding his hand down to her ass when she doesn't immediately give him space, he gooses her, and slides out from under her like a magician. Heading into the kitchen once she has given him space to get free. "I like this rescue operation more too," he says as he walks towards the kitchen.

Pausing at one of the big plush leather chairs, he grabs it by the arms and hauls it to the dining room which overlooks the kitchen and sets it down, then comes back for her. Scooping her up in a Superman carry, as gently as he can, he moves her to the chair.

Then he gets to cookin'. The process of which will not be detailed, save to say, 'he continues to cook' because this isn't Alton Brown.

Lilith breaks into a low and semi-giddy bubble of laughter from the throat as she's goosed at the ass (and it's pretty firm, but it's got a good level of soft for grip too), starting up into a surprised push with balance on her hands after he's up. She, however, hesitates about getting up and following him into the kitchen where there's all manner of sharp potentials and fire and who knows what else. Instead, she watches him manhandle the big plush chair for her to use instead of a more stiff dining chair with a hint of actual confusion that's almost adorable-- she's not really visibly thrown a whole lot when things are going fine. But when he comes back for her right after to scoop, carry, then deposit, she seems... a little stunned instead.

Curling up in it to watch, she surprisingly, maybe, doesn't talk much, she observes all the little ways of Michael standing and cooking in the kitchen. It's not thick silence when she's quiet or anything, and she does make the occasional running commentary, mostly about the show Chopped and all manner of things she's seen thrown in the random-ingredient basket that people have to work with.

But when he's got things wrapped up and it's time to eat, she informs the man, "You're... very different than what I'm accustomed to." And that doesn't sound like a bad thing at all.

"In what way?" Mike asks as he comes over with her plate stacked up with a mound of spaghetti. Nothing fancy. No giant meatballs or anything, and the contents of the redsauce were only fractionally added to with fresh ingredients, it mostly came from a jar. Because he isn't a chef, and he isn't about to try to cook for the next hour. But what he does do, to his taste, tastes as good as most Italian restaurants that aren't excessively pricey or in the Michelin guide.

Handing her the plate, he pushes the chair over to the dining room table just a few feet away and spins it around so that she can use the table somewhat-- but apparently also so that they can talk. As he grabs himself a plate of food, some fresh parmesan and goes over to sit at the table.

"I mean, in what way am I different from what you're accustomed to?" in case that wasn't clear.

"For one, I've never had a man cook for me. One time a guy got fancy takeout and pretended like he did, though, and I pretended not to notice." Lilith explains to Michael as she's dosed with a plate of spaghetti on delivery and spun around. That makes her downright grin, and he might be getting the sneaking suspicion she's enjoying the general manhandling in whatever fashion. It's not every day a guy literally moves his living room furniture a few times just for the sake of accommodating comfort for company. It's kind of a masterful way to flex, too, and she's clearly given up the whole 'fine' and I-can-do-it schtick. It's almost like his decisiveness and doting combo has whittled her down over time.

Then she starts to eat, clearly perfectly happy with his doctored way of cooking with jar sauce as base to prep. But after she's gotten some noodles in, she continues, "Men are generally either one way or another. Too soft or passive and easily turned away. Or too... firm and forward and ready to take." That might or might not be a polite way of saying 'fucking asshole' because she's a little delicate with thought before finishing, but the point still stands.

"Never? But, what do you eat? Or do they try to make you cook? Can you cook? I'll be honest, my first guess was that you couldn't boil an egg, you seem like the type," Mike mentions and seems to be giving her shit. Sitting down, he realizes only then that he forgot to get them more drinks and asks, "What would you like to drink with that? I have .. options," he mentions as he walks into the kitchen again and pulls out a container filled with what looks like lemonade, and pours himself a glass of that.

As to the comment about the two types of men, he nods his head, understanding her meaning and gets her the drink of her choice when she narrows it down. The main things on offer apparently being beer, wine, water, lemonade, Coke, chocolate milk and protein drink. He brings her a glass of one of those things and then takes his seat again. Finally able to eat.

"I'd usually make garlic toast, but I try to buy the bread fresh," he mentions.

Lilith points a finger to the lemonade because her mouth is full, the other hand coming up to roll a little from the wrist after he ribs her about boiling eggs, as if to say, hold on, going to talk shit back in a moment, chewing, please bear with me. It's all real casual and he might have just kind of picked up at this point she generally gives it right back. But in this case, it's kind of lame, "... I'll boil your egg." Really. It's unclear what kind of threat that is. But she goes on to answer, "I feed myself. The times I went out with people, it was mostly out-out." She shrugs some with a little dismissal and eats some more.

Michael might be magic. That or his spaghetti is. Or something is starting to just shift right with alignment somewhere out there, because after she's done eating, she's practically drowsy as a kitten drunk on milk and... her coloring is really starting to come back, now that it's mentioned. It's not a huge change, but it's gradual enough to notice. She just doesn't seem sunk under a malaise and drained from the inside the same way, injuries aside.

So naturally, given trend, when he picks up on that little drowsy fact? She lets him put her down to rest his way, no doubt.

Once they've both eaten, Mike, picking up on her easy resting state scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom and puts her to bed and tucks her in with a kiss before he grabs some stuff from the closet, shuts off the lights and leaves her to sleep. Still only about seven at night, but apparently that's early enough.

Then he goes and camps on the couch for a few hours and falls asleep himself.