I Am Noman

[plaguedrat]

He's always preferred to own his books, but his refusal to seek out work and forge any real ties to the city have forced him to budget, to compromise. It's what takes him to the public library today. Signing up for a library card is different, he tries to convince himself. It's not as if it requires money, nor does he have to maintain it. It's different.

It's netted him a thick stack of books that he's negotiating into a bag while he sits on the steps. The acetate-bound copy of The Odyssey rests on his knees, the one he plans to read first.

Perhaps he's like Odysseus, trapped for years on an island and prolonging his foolish journey.

Comments

[plaguedrat]

"Yeah, okay," he agrees easily enough, letting Grey lead the way then. His call on where they eat.

[silenttrainbaby]

Well, that's letting the blind lead the way, isn't it?

But Grey looks up one way, then another, finally deciding on one way, looking into windows.

[plaguedrat]

It's a simple-looking place but the air around it smells good, which Rat takes as a good sign. "I think they have pasta."

[silenttrainbaby]

A food Grey hasn't had yet, so he carefully opens the door with his bandaged hand and he leads the way inside.

It smells remarkable.

[plaguedrat]

"This place then?" He can see the look on Grey's face.

[silenttrainbaby]

Swallowing because of how his mouth waters, Grey nods dumbly. Yes, this place.

[plaguedrat]

They're given a table for two near the window, letting them watch the passersby. He likes that.

"It smells good."

[silenttrainbaby]

It does; an entirely new set of smells.

A loaf of bread is set in front of them and a bowl of seasoned olive oil. Grey doesn't even bother with the menu, it would be all foreign to him.

[plaguedrat]

Rat tries to think of what he knows Grey likes. That croque-madame sandwich he'd had while they were waiting for the vet. Egg, salt, ham. Creamy texture... "Try the risotto. Or the spaghetti carbonara," he says, reading the descriptions.

[silenttrainbaby]

Grey doesn't know; he will most likely like it. He takes some bread, though, smelling it before taking a big bite.

[plaguedrat]

"What did you eat...on the train?" Obviously not much. He's asked before, but how little Grey seems familiar with amazes him.

[silenttrainbaby]

It's only after he's swallowed that he tries to figure out how to answer the question. Finally, it's just easier to reach for Rat's hand, spelling words on his hand.

P-R-O-T-E-I-N B-L-O-C-K-S.

[plaguedrat]

Rat tries not to dwell on the intimacy of this form of communication.

"Protein blocks? That's all?" For his whole life? Rat can't even imagine that it kept people healthy or full.

[silenttrainbaby]

That was all. It was all Grey had known and everyone was always hungry, yes, but he'd grown used to that, too. As he reaches for another chunk of bread, he shrugs. It isn't in his nature, after all, to feel sorry for himself.

[plaguedrat]

At least it wasn't people. Rat tries not to let the memory rise up, that burning flesh smells like a roast. He hides it better, at least this time.

"Must be nice, having all these things to try, then."

[silenttrainbaby]

It is, even if it makes his stomach hurt.

It occurs to him to drag his bread through the seasoned olive oil and --

Oh.

That is so good.

[plaguedrat]

Any old nightmares are arrested when he sees the look on Grey's face. Without realizing it, he smiles back anddoes the same.

[silenttrainbaby]

This is very, very good. Grey finds that he likes bread a lot. He likes sandwiches. He smiles back, watching Rat's face.

[plaguedrat]

"I'm guessing you're a bread fan," Rat says, swirling around another pinch through the olive oil. Hopefully, whoever's buying the groceries between Grey, Curtis, and Yona has figured that out.

[silenttrainbaby]

It's still at the point where Grey will eat most everything. Green food is still a challenge; it's green, after all. But when the person who brings the food comes back, he looks to Rat to order what he thinks he'd like.

[plaguedrat]

Rat figures Grey might like risotto, savory and comforting. For himself, Rat gets spaghetti and meat sauce. "Pasta is al made from the same ingredients, but it changes names depending on how it's cooked and cut."

[silenttrainbaby]

So, it all tastes the same, just shaped differently?

Not that that matters, much. He hands the basket to the person before she can leave. More bread, please.

[plaguedrat]

"The sauce changes things too. Yours is Italian rice, cooked slowly until it's thick, like a porridge." He'd tried it once before, but only once and only a little. Rice was hard to grow outside the habitable zones.

[silenttrainbaby]

Resting his chin in his hand, Grey listens; he always listens. But this doesn't really matter. It isn't as if he is going to cook. The corner of his mouth quirks a little.

[plaguedrat]

But Rat does. He likes cooking, actually. It combines the satisfaction of working with his hands and knowing exactly what's in his food.

"What?" Only now does he notice Grey's expression.