reiner is the type of guy to bring home roadkill and use it to cook.
(sound alarming? i know. hear me out.)
reiner didn’t have amazing access to food when he was younger, being from a single parent household and living in what was basically a ghetto. when reiner saw his mother at the kitchen table, her brow furrowed and hands raking through her hair trying to figure out how she was going to feed her son for the next week, an eight year old reiner would scamper into the nearest wooded area or major road and forage for a rabbit or deer carcass. he’d place it onto the kitchen table, a huge smile on his face, proud of the fact that he and his mother would eat for another few days thanks to him.
this skill wouldn’t exactly help with his marriage later on in life.
you’d come home from a long day at work to a pleasant smell coming from the kitchen. the aroma of various spices and vegetables wafted through your house, and placing down your bag, reiner comes through the doorframe.
“hey there”, he said, smiling at your tired face. “i made something for you ‘cause i knew you’d be home on the later side.”
you hug reiner, and feel his arms squeeze around your waist in return. getting on your tip toes, you place a kiss on his cheek, and you feel the muscles in his face flex into a grin.
“thank you”, you sighed. “whatcha cookin?”
reiner walks into the kitchen as you follow. “oh, just a stew that my mom taught me to make when i was living in liberio.” taking a bowl out of the cupboards, he serves you some soup. you can see chunks of carrot, potato, tomato, and meat floating in the stew. you take a bite.
“that’s nice, actually”, you reply, swallowing your food. “i wasn’t aware that you’re such a chef.”
reiner chuckles. “one of the few things i know.”
you bite into a piece of browned meat. “is this…beef? no, it’s too lean for beef. pork? veal?”
“rabbit”, reiner replies. “or maybe squirrel. i don’t know. i couldn’t tell.”
you squint, and abruptly stop chewing. “what do you mean you couldn’t tell? don’t they label them at the market?”
“didn’t find it at the market”, says reiner, grabbing himself his own bowl of stew. “went walking along one of the backroads today and found it.”
“how cute”, you squeal. “you killed a rabbit just for me!”
“it was already gone by the time i got there”, reiner replies, putting a spoonful of soup in his mouth. “think it got hit by a car or something.”
you suddenly feel your airway constrict in shock, and choke up some of the stew that you abruptly spit into your napkin. coughing, you run to the sink to pour a glass of water and begin to chug. reiner watches in slight horror as you struggle.
“too spicy?” he asks. “sorry. i think i put too much pepper in there. or maybe it was the onion…”
you cough another time, and look back at reiner with a scarred expression on your now pale face. “are you telling me…you put fucking roadkill in my soup?”
“is there something wrong?” reiner retorts. “hey, gotta use what ya got—“
you’re hit by a wave of nausea and run off to your powder room. reiner looks in your direction, shrugs, and continues to eat his roadkill stew.
