As he moved toward the counter, she smiled as he reached for the pitcher rather than the glass. She picked it up and returned it to the cabinet it came from. When she turned back to him, he was able to respond after the long draw he took from the pitcher. “Alright, take your time. Dinner should be ready in about forty minutes.” She informed him, watching as he moved up the steps slowly. Though there were no traces of the tension of rage and hostility in him any longer, hints of sorrow remained. She struggled with the desire to allow him the courtesy of composing himself in private—and how he saw fit—and wanting to comfort him. Ava thought about how she might want to handle overwhelming emotions, whether or not she would want to be comforted by another. She usually preferred to do so on her own, especially here where she felt as though she<i>had </i>to because she had no one. She and the commander weren’t one to openly talk about their feelings, after all. Even her feelings for him she kept to herself, mostly because she was in denial about them.<br/><br/>She tapped her finger on the counter as she thought, looking over her shoulder at the dish she had yet to put in the oven. She then looked toward the steps, sighing as she decided to give him time to himself. She only hoped that he didn’t get the wrong impression for her absence. Ava put the food in the over and began to clean up after herself. Once she was done, she set the table. With the remaining time left till the food was ready, she removed her tablet from the charger in the living room and read while she waited patiently.