❝ ALRIGHT , ALRIGHT -- LISTEN. ❞ deep , baritone voice is followed by a sigh heaved out past parted lips as hands clad in oven-mitts move to grasp the handles of the large pot settled atop his stove. the quilted fabric looks almost out of character upon the lycan’s large , scarred hands -- the faded pink decorated with old-fashioned flowers , like something straight out of a vintage magazine plucked from the 1950s -- and with gio’s dark , messy locks pulled up into a haphazard bun atop his head , there’s no doubt that the hulking creature looks almost comical. it does little to quell his enthusiasm regardless as a wooden spoon is stuck into the bubbling , carb-heavy meal he had been tended to for the better part of an hour now. ❝ i’m no vegan , ❞ he begins again , nostrils flaring as he gives the pot another deep sniff. ❝ … but i did try a milk-free recipe. you’re lactose intolerant , right ? ❞
thick brows lift curiously as he glances over his shoulder at the younger lycan seated at the table. to say that gio wasn’t used to cooking for his younger peers would have been a lie -- but the numerous years he had spent tending to his younger siblings in the bronx had been completed with far too many boxes of microwave mac-and-cheese & canned chilli than he’d like to admit ; he was nowhere near his mother’s caliber , able to roll out hand-made tortillas or meat so tender it all but fell off the bone -- but the years had been kind enough to him that gio was able to pick a few meager skills here & there. wooden spoon is set aside before he removes the gaudy pink mitts covering his hand , tossing them aside onto the countertop. ❝ give it a few more minutes an’ it should be done. you wanna play some mario kart while it cooks ? ❞ the question is posed with a lazy grin as free hand moves to cover the pot with a steam-covered lid.
