the smell of garlic hit the air first, that dance of cilantro and cumin melding. golden, melting and dancing in the pan with butter and onion, reheating something just as good as it was from the morning. she moves about the kitchen like a practiced dance she'd spun a thousand times. ❛ you're lucky i like you. ❜ called over her shoulder, the edge in her voice softened by the way her hips swayed with the beat. though it was, she'd probably feed her own enemies if she had them. ❛ how you gonna go all day not eating, hmm ? ❜ she turned then, spatula in hand, eyes narrowing on teo like she could slap some sense into him just by looking. her tone was playful, but there was something else behind it. made her chest twist in that old familiar way, like when one of her siblings said they skipped a meal to save money. like when her dad would say he was just tired instead of admitting he was sick again. what was she worth if she couldn't fix it?