“Quit your belly-achin’, we’re fine.” Caelan promised, trading the pot for the man’s lighter. Dusty was right, though, even as Caelan hated to admit it. He had been so ecstatic to do something finally without fear, that he completely disregarded common sense. There could have been someone just there behind the door, fit to gut him like a fish for bursting in without invitation. Dusty had commented that the folk that lived here had long since been buried, but that didn’t mean the shack didn’t have new tenants.<br/><br/>He watched Dusty as he left the shack and turned to the candles. They were mostly placed around the bed, perhaps to welcome the light of Christ as each surrendered to the sickness. He attended Church as a child, but had long since barred the words of scripture from his mind. Caelan couldn’t believe in a being that would allow the wickedness of this illness to plague the world. He refused to accept that it was a great and powerful cleansing. Even though he disagreed, Caelan couldn’t fault the dying human from wishing for something better after their souls left this world.<br/><br/>Caelan lit each candle and moved them a bit around the room, illuminating more of the structure than just the stove and bed. Many of the candles were thick, wider than his wrist in circumference, and would burn for several hours before self-extinguishing. He brushed his hands on his jeans and ducked through the door of the shack to again join Dusty on the porch. Caelan sat upon one of the chairs, the bag of fruit placed carefully on his lap, and watched as Dusty prepared their dinner. He worked expertly, and Caelan sat in awe, mouth slightly agape as his hands and fingers separated meat from bone. It was nearly surgically precise and Caelan knew that accuracy came from years and years of practice.<br/><br/>The two retreated into the cabin once Dusty deemed himself ready. Caelan toted the bag of fruit in and sat atop the bed near the stove. “Skillet cobbler.” His tone was light and airy, conveying that he was impressed by Dusty’s offer. “That sounds amazing.” Cobblers were relatively easy to make, but he hadn’t had the means to put one together from scratch since leaving home. The last thing he wanted to be known for in college was his<i>cobblers</i>. No, he had far greater attributable abilities.<br/><br/>“We have…” Caelan opened the mouth of the bag and peered in, “satsumas, oranges… figs and… pomegranates.” He looked up at Dusty before extracting a handful of plump figs and a few hard shelled pomegranate. “I say we save the satsumas and oranges for the fish and make a cobbler out of figs and pom.” Caelan set the bag aside and hopped off the bed. He stooped again and pulled a bowl from the underside of the cabinet. “I’ll replenish your stock when we get back to the apartment tonight.” Caelan mentioned off-hand, knowing that he would deplete most of what he had brought along for Dusty and he knew the man intended on fermenting the fruits once he returned home.<br/><br/>Caelan returned to the bed after finding a knife. He balanced the bowl on his lap, sitting cross-legged, and set to the tedious task of wrestling the pomegranate seeds from the husk. “Have you ever had pomegranate before?” Caelan inquired. He cut the top off fruit and used the tip of the blade to cut the cork free. Caelan tilted the opening towards Dusty, the pretty red gems shining like a cluster of jewels. "It's a workout to get to these little guys and the payout is not really worth it because you have to eat about a spoonful to really get a taste of it, but it's kind of pretty, at least?"