Wesley had changed into casual clothes. Standing at the door, he asked, "You ever lock your door?"
Blair answered without turning back, "Not really. It's just you and me here. No one else lives on our floor. Why bother?"
Then, Wesley lectured her as if he were talking to a child. "It's dangerous. You don't know who else might walk in."
"Okay, okay. Fine. Any foods you don't like?" asked Blair as she poured some cooking oil into the wok after putting it on the stove. Before he answered, she muttered, "Probably not. My uncle said one time you guys had to eat grass to survive. I can't even!"
Wesley was reduced to silence. 'Eat grass? What are we? Sheep?'
While Blair was cooking in the kitchen, Wesley looked around her living room. It looked quite safe. Adalson might have helped set the place up. There were even fire extinguishers.
"Can you cook?" Blair turned back and asked out of the blue.
"Oh yeah," Wesley replied, meeting her eyes.
"Well, good." 'Our kids won't go hungry then, ' Blair thought to herself.
By the time dinner was ready, Wesley was watching TV on the couch in the living room. He had a good view of the kitchen from the couch, so he could keep an eye on her that way.
Blair had cooked several dishes, including vegetables and meat dishes. She carried them to the dining room. There was also congee with lean pork and century eggs. The last thing she brought to the table was a stack of pancakes.
Blair ladled two bowls of congee and waved to Wesley with a smile. "Dinner's ready. Come and eat."
Wesley said, "I don't—"
"That's a lot of food. How am I supposed to eat it all? Come on, let's not waste it." Blair interrupted him. She knew he was going to refuse, so she didn't give him the chance to say it.
Wesley rose to his feet and walked to the dining room. "Alright," he said after taking a seat at the dining table. "But don't do this again."
"Okay," Blair replied with a smile.
No doubt she was an excellent cook. She could cook all kinds of dishes. Wesley was a soldier, as efficient at eating as he was at his duties. Blair wasn't even full, but he was already done and put down his chopsticks.
"Um... there's still plenty left. I can't finish it," said Blair, feeling embarrassed. She wasn't lying. Each plate was still half full.
She assumed Wesley was hungry, and that he hadn't eaten like this in a long time. She cooked more food on that assumption.
Wesley was going to bring his bowl and chopsticks to the kitchen. When he heard what she said, he sat back in his seat. "It's fine. Just eat."
Blair had a tiny appetite. After a few more bites, she put down her chopsticks and announced, "I'm full."
Then Wesley served himself another bowl of congee and ate everything that was left on the table.
Afterwards, Wesley did the dishes while Blair cleared the table. He had his back to her. Watching him thoughtfully, she asked, "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No," he answered simply, without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment.
"Do you want one?"
"No." 'I work my butt off every day. I don't have time, ' he thought.
"Is there... anyone you like?"
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