Having his shoulders massaged had definitely eased his mood quite a bit despite the mention of his dead fiancÃ©e. To Weston, who has not had a massage in quite awhile, this was almost good enough to make it seem like his wish for a bit more relaxation time granted. Holding back a yawn he relaxed more and closed his eyes, almost feeling like he could fall asleep like this, he had to admit her hands on him felt absolutely wonderful, â€œYou have magic handsâ€¦â€ he muttered his comment after she had finished. His words were honest, that really had felt good. With a satisfied smile he proceeded to roll his shoulders and crack his neck, leaning back against the couch again. His hands rested in his lap and the expression on his face reflected an almost uncharacteristic calmness about him. It was almost strange but seemed to suit him at the same time.<br/><br/>Clearing his throat, he said. â€œIâ€™m always doing things for other people at work, mostly things people donâ€™t want to do.â€ That had been the truth, he wasnâ€™t going to lie, he was always doing things people would rather not do whenever he was working on top of his own work. â€œI guess pleasing people has always been a thing of mine, Melissa would get tired of it sometimes I think. She would always bust my chopsâ€ He gave a shrug and then immediately changed the subject as to not put either of them in a damp mood again or wind up in a depressing conversation. To be honest he really didnâ€™t want to think about his dead fiancÃ©e, he had been well aware that she was not coming back to him the moment she passed away, hand laced with his, on that hospital bed, he knew it better to move on.<br/><br/>And move on would be exactly what he has done the past few years.<br/><br/>Weston suddenly stood up, â€œHey, are you hungry at all? I could make something to eat if youâ€™d like me to,â€ he told her with a bit of a shrug. â€œYou can just relax here, I donâ€™t mind at all.â€ For a split second the thought of mentioning putting her back in the bottle crossed his mind. Though it would only be a joke he decided to keep it to himself and put on another smile. Now, anybody who knew about Weston was well aware he was not the best cook in the world. He wouldnâ€™t poison anyone and whatever he cooked was edible but donâ€™t expect fine dining or quality food from some five star restaurant. In fact he didnâ€™t usually cook much well aware of the fact he was not the best cook in the world. Sometimes his cooking was preparing scrambled eggs or heating something up in the microwave.<br/><br/>â€œIs there anything in particular that you would want, if youâ€™re hungry?â€ He figured he might as well ask. Wouldnâ€™t that be the proper thing to do? Did genies even eat anything at all? Did they need to, since they were locked in bottles or lamps for as long as they were? A lot of questions filled his mind but he, again, kept it all to himself. Either way Weston thought it would be rude if he didnâ€™t ask her what she wanted if he just ran off back into the kitchen.