━━━━ “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull a Gordon Ramsay on you,” Joakim apologized, sincere. “I haven’t seen the head chef in full form,” he almost said corporeal, “and I’m glad to finally meet you—and yes, I’ll keep you company.” At least, Isadora was seemingly gregarious, and he liked that a lot. “Oh, no. No allergies unless you meant bull,” Joakim answered, chuckling; “Yes, that’s me.” Her pronunciation of his name was new, a variant he hasn’t heard of before. “It’s no big deal, really,” he assured Isadora, “you say it as either Yo-ah-Kim or YO-KIM. The former’s one of the Swedish’s take on it and the latter’s the English one. Or you can just call me Joaks as in egg-YOLKS—people don’t call you Dora, do they?” Like Dora the Explorer, he thought to himself.
“Hey I don’t mind it, it brings me back honestly,” she smiled fondly over the other, “you know, he’s really not that bad. He’s really a sweetheart, he just knows we can do it right.” She rambled off as she lead the other out to the garage, her hands gripping a rag she pulled from her front pocket. “Oh boy, I was... off, huh?” A genuine laugh left her lips as she quickly shook her head. “Joaks it is, and people do, I never minded it.” She shrugged as she backed into the garage, holding the door for him. “But, people also call me Isa,” she rattled off, furrowing her brows. “But alright Joaks, here’s your selection.” She smiled opening one of the freezers, “I gotta tell you, my dad’s veggie chili is to die for, number one comfort food.”