<strong>Name: </strong>Jack Harth<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Jack's Apartment<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Red t-shirt, blue denim jeans.<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Elena, technically everyone still in his apartment.<br/><br/><strong>"I'll be freaked out about it when I have that luxury." </strong>He'd admit. Really, the only thing keeping him calm right now is the prevailing thought that he needed to keep himself together to keep everyone and everything together.  Of them all, he probably was the strongest; but strength wasn't always  in being immune to pain and suffering. Some times, strength was being able to just hold the feelings at bay, until it was safe to let them out. And now was simply not the time, nor the place.<br/><br/>He would briefly look up at Madelyn, but then, shift his focus back to the task at hand. He had a feeling she was crying; he couldn't tell, it just stood to reason that, after what she's just been through with the whole vision ordeal, and all the other things she must have lost, and how vulnerable she likely felt, it just made sense. Crying could be cathartic, and catharsis was a good thing.<br/><br/>From time to time as he cut the vegetables, he would periodically empty them off into the  stockpot full of water, which was beginning to boil; though it seemed like every time it was just starting to boil, more vegetables went into it, and brought the temperature down.<br/><br/>Once the potatoes were scrubbed, they were quickly sliced up, very thinly, and placed into the pot.  With the fresh herbs and vegetables in it, too, it would be a very nice, vegan meal.   Jack was fond of meat, don't get him wrong, he just didn't know everybody's food preference, so he figured by going vegan and avoiding common allergy foods, everybody would be able to enjoy the soup.  That, and all the vegetables in it would make it very nourishing, while the potatoes would make it more filling.<br/><br/>He adds a bit of salt to it, remaining quiet as he does so. He just... didn't really have anything to say to any one. He was just working through his own thoughts. As it begins to boil, the apartment would start to smell of the vegetables; one could also smell the baking bread, too.  He would reduce the heat to a simmer once it was boiling, so it didn't all boil away, and finally, place the lid on the pot.