"A little girl had spilled cereal on herself." Mark put down his bag on the floor by the door amd kicked off his white sneakers. They were well worn and still had a green bandaid with smiling yellow suns on the left heel. Ace had put it there the day he had bought them. 'To add some fun!' he had said. Mark looked up at the sandwich again and kept his eyes on it as he moved to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. The sandwich was more like a pile of food. Mark was about eighth percent sure he saw the pink of raw chicken and-yes that is a raw egg yolk slowly oozing down a piece of bread. Ace aass watching him with those big red eyes. He was waiting to see Mark's reaction. Would Mark eat it? Would he throw it away?<br/>"You know half of it's raw, right? I can't eat it." Ace's eyes widened a little and Mark bit his tongue. After a moment he added, "The other half looks pretty good." he crossed the room to sit at the table, careful to avoid the puddles of blood. "But lord, Ace I'm not you. I can't eat mountains of food." his tone was flat but not reprimanding. Mark pulled the plate so that it sat in front of him. Pushing a hand through his hair to get the stray curls off his forehead. There was a slight smell to the sandwich. He didn't particularly like it. Still he tore a bit of bread that looked safe to eat and put it in his mouth. He dipped a bit of tomato in mayonaise and ate that too. He went on picking out food and tried to eat without making a mess. Of course it didn't work. Soon he had mustard and what he suspected might be olive oil on his fingers and palms. Ace was watching him. "So you made this all by yourself?" Mark asked, watching as he pulled some chocolate and popped it in his mouth. He glanced over at the note on the table. It'd be hard to scrub now that it was dry. It was a little surprising though. Ace had never done anything like this before. He had come to see mark when he walked in the door and waited once or twice but never made food or sacrificed a bag of blood for the sake of a note. Speaking of, he needed a new one. "What else did you do?" he suspected the laundry and maybe an attempt on the dishes. Maybe an attwmpt on tidying up. Mark stood and went to the sink to wash his hands. After drying them with a paper towel he retrieved a new bag of blood and sat by ace, changing it out.