Abigail felt like a small child as she was being carried into the kitchen. She had such an innocent, jovial smile on her face. She had hoped she wasn't too heavy for him though. When he had set her down, he had asked her what they could eat. At the moment, she could fix a few things though she didn't know what he would prefer. Most of her cooking was recipes her father taught her. While she was at college, she didn't get to experiment cooking much since she was in the dorms until moving last year. Hopefully he wouldn't request fish because she wasn't cooking it.<br/><br/>"Well...if you don't have any suggestions, I can cook a flavorful roasted chicken," she started to reply, "With some cooked vegetable greens, and mashed potatoes with gravy. I can also cook an andouille sausage soup, or something on the Italian spectrum. I can work with about everything except onions and fish."<br/><br/>She hated onions. Onions were the epitome of evil in terms of cooking. The texture, the pungent smell, the overpowering taste, all awful. If she absolutely had to use onion in anything, she just used a few specks of onion flakes or used onion powder. At least she wouldn't have to deal with cutting it and cooking it and dealing with the texture when she ate. She really hated onions.