Facial cleanliness nearly complete, Paul sadly took note of a few blood spots beading up on both sides of his face and chin.  Serves me right for rocking out to<i>Superunknown </i>with a sharp blade in my hand, he thought.  He had dabbed at the red dots with rubbing alcohol, which brought its own jolt.<br/><br/>Offer accepted, Charlette joined Paul as they took their time to the kitchen, mainly for her.  Along the way, he clarified, “Oh no, I thank you for your offer of helping, but you just make yourself comfortable in a chair.  All good,” he said with a nod.<br/><br/>A pot of leftover white rice tucked in the crook of his left arm, he gathered the other essentials for his planned concoction: green onions, eggs, sliced Portuguese sausage, extra virgin olive oil, shoyu, pepper, and finely diced carrots.  Throw it all together and the result was Fried Rice!<br/><br/>Firing up the stove, Paul turned to see what Charlette was up to.  She was still rubbing her head.  With the eggs nearing their scrambled time limit, it was almost time for it to be integrated into the rest of the already simmering mixture.  Mixing everything just so was soon to commence.<br/><br/>Charlette at least exhibited a regaining of color in her face.  Tylenol’s finally doing its job, he thought.<br/><br/>He hoped she was hungry.