If Drinkin' Don't Kill Me [Reida, Alastair]

"Sorry, it just comes naturally sometimes."

He scratched at the back of his head and averted his gaze for a moment, eyes sheepishly hitting the floor. Even after all they had been through last night, it felt improper to refer to her in such an informal tone. But he did not want to offend her by refusing such a request.

"The bathroom is the first door on the left, but you will probably want to grab a towel from the room opposite. Should be in the top drawer on the right once you step inside."

There was a laziness to his description, that was accompanied by a spatula wielding hand going through the motions like he was guiding her. What he had neglected to mention was that the second room was his bedroom, in which his clothes from last night were still strewn across the otherwise undisturbed bed, though the thought had not particularly crossed his mind when he was just dealing with the Reida in front of him.

"If you want to take your time, that is fine. Regardless, I will be waiting out here when you are ready."

His tone suddenly grew assertive once more, though really all he wanted to do was to show her that he had been serious last night. That he was here for her if she wanted him to be.

Over easy, huh? That was probably some funny way of referring to fried ones.

He watched Reida leave, a gentle sigh escaping his lips, before Alastair turned his mind back to the food and his thoughts.

What exactly had happened last night? Well, he knew that rather well all things considered, but it was still not the direction he had expected things to go. Sophie would understand, right? It had just been a series of nice gestures to help a woman who was in pain. Why had she been in pain last night? Well, perhaps because he had dredged up those feelings in some selfish effort to help himself cope. And how had she ended up back here? He had invited her of course, as any proper gentleman would.

Yet why did he feel like he had to justify his actions? Was it because, on more than one occasion, he had felt something that he knew he should not have and the worst feeling was not knowing if it was something or nothing. That cut deeper than it should have, far deeper than he was comfortable processing, so he buried it in the depths of his mind along with all the other problems he did not wish to deal with.

The food came along better than his thoughts, though. As, soon enough, a full American breakfast came together. Some homemade potato hash, bacon rashers, sausages, toast, and -as requested- eggs done over easy. It had taken him a few minutes of research to understand the concept, but it was a small price to pay for a proper meal. Dividing it all up between a pair of plates, he stuck them both in the oven to keep warm until Reida was ready and set the kettle brewing for a morning coffee. Lord knew he needed one, now more than ever.

Serving the breakfast up to her at the table, Alastair matched her smile and took a seat opposite. He had poured them both cups of coffee and left out the milk and sugar for her should Reida have any use for them. Alastair, for his part, took his coffee black and kept it rather weak. A carryover from his experiences in the war that he had never shaken, when that was the best cup of coffee a soldier could get.

"You reckon? I just think a good breakfast is the best way to recover from a rough night, so I thought we could do with it."

She was putting on a smile, he wagered because that was what he would be doing in her situation, but it would do him no good to call it out again. They had made a start on something last night, but was it a suitable breakfast conversation? Instead, he found himself admiring her different hairstyle. Having it all down rather than keeping it in a braid was a statement, but that was definitely not something he should be thinking about. Eager to avoid that, he quickly reverted to the original topic without much thought.

"I meant what I said back then, though. About you being able to call me and the rest."

Whilst it was true, what was he doing? At least give the woman a moment's respite to enjoy her meal.

Watching as she stared into the coffee with enough intensity it might have frozen solid, he felt guilty for dredging up those feelings even if she had done as much to herself. He really was not good at this, but he still wanted to help. He forced a smile back to his lips, even as he felt his gut wrench, and reached a hand across the table to place it on top of Reida's own. If nothing else, at least he would have a grip on the coffee cup as well.

"Good, do not ever worry that you are bothering me. I can always make time for a friend in need. Even if you just want another breakfast."

He squeezed just a little before releasing the hand and returning to his food, picking at it almost lazily. It was an unusual meal for him, often a fan of something more continental, but there was a heartiness to it that he did not mind.

Though he had tried to end on a softer note, his words were no less serious than before. It did feel peculiar to label someone a friend after knowing them for less than a day, but he felt like he already knew Reida better than most of his actual friends. It was a strange sensation, having someone place that much trust in you that they would bare their heart, but it was now on him to prove worthy of that faith.

Alastair chuckled lightly at Reida's last remark. He did not know exactly what a meal of 'shrimp n' grits' entailed but the shrimp part at least made it sound somewhat appetising. It took the edge off all the heavy matters they had discussed too, which was a welcome reprieve.

"That would be a refreshing change of pace. A proper breakfast once in a while goes a long way, I suppose. To fine food and finer company."

He raised his mug of coffee in a toast of sorts, a fitting parallel to the first drinks they had shared, and took a much more reserved sip. It would probably be good for both of them, a few moments of peace and quiet amidst the pandemonium that was often the norm for Vandenreich field operatives. The start of a strange friendship found in the depths of a bottle.