Mari’s laughter seemed to warm the air around them, like a ray of sunlight bursting into the small kitchen.  Dumas enjoyed hearing her laugh.  It made him feel proud that he could give her a little mirth, even when she was facing such desperate troubles.<br/><br/>When Dumas saw Mari getting out a pair of steaks, his stomach rumbled again, even more loudly than before.  Despite the military’s best efforts to destroy both his taste buds and his digestion, Dumas still appreciated good food.  But it never seemed worth the trouble to cook anything for just himself.  So, for the most part, he subsisted on a diet of breakfast cereal and tuna fish sandwiches.  “Damn, Mari!  You weren’t joking about pampering me, were you?  I haven’t had a steak in ages.”<br/><br/>Dumas could still remember the last time, right after he got out of the military.  He’d wanted to treat himself to all the things he’d been missing.  It had all seemed so simple back then, as if civilian life could be ordered off a menu and brought to him on a fancy china plate.<br/><br/>Mari’s mock confession made Dumas laugh.  “I don’t know,” he admitted, leaning against the kitchen wall.  It was difficult for him to feel comfortable sitting down while someone else was working.  “For this kind of treatment, I think I’d just wear earplugs at night.”  Still smiling, Dumas shook his head.  “I hope you’ll at least help me wash the dishes or something.”