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Sherry was focused on cleaning. That was just what she did when her world started to fall apart - work, because that was what hunters did. She had learned that much on the Island. She might cry and sniffle and be angry while she worked, but focusing on the work was the way to survive.

Her phone buzzed. She read the text, relieved that he was fine - - but finding herself slightly distraught at the way he ended that text. What all of everything? As far as Sherry was concerned all he needed to be sorry about was flooding her room and running. She didn't even care about dinner at this point (or so she told herself).

She sighed, dropping some towels on the floor (they were already soaked through) and deciding she needed to get more. Her fingers began typing out a reply as she moved towards the bathroom again, water sounds under her feet still.



One of the many towels on the floor had gotten caught on one boot, but under the other. A few too-long moments of flailing later and Sherry was on the floor, noting just how wet her carpet really was. She could feel the water seeping into her clothes.

Her phone lay a few feet away, having completely slipped from her flailing fingers.

Sherry was half tempted to just lay there on her floor forever.

There were times when things became overwhelming. One might think such times where when the world was literally falling apart around you, or when shadows were coming to life to tear you apart, or when a thing made of bones pulled a rib from your chest. And honestly, those times were rather overwhelming to Sherry. But those were also the times when she didn't have the luxury to let things overwhelm her.

That was why she hadn't chased Jake. That was why she had just thrown herself into cleaning things up. It was all a little overwhelming, so she focused on getting stuff done and taken care of.

But as she lay there on the floor, water seeping from the carpet and into her clothes and hair, she realized that she could let it get to her. She knew she shouldn't. But she probably wasn't going to die if she actually let herself cry. Let those tears that had tried to fall when she'd held the soggy rolls fall with all the gusto that they deserved.

Of course, crying would take energy, and Sherry didn't really know if she had any of that left in her.

So she was staring at the ceiling when when Jake walked back in.

A smile was forced, but it took surprisingly little effort. "I'm fine," she said. She lifted her hand, reaching for him. "I think my carpet is ruined. And the rolls are a lost cause. Are you hurt? What the hell happened?"

Sherry hardly noticed Jake being nearly soaked as she was. She just kind of sank against him, reveling in the fact that he'd returned. And she realized then, in that moment, why she'd wanted to cry in the first place.

"It's okay," she said, reaching around him for a hug. She had to swallow a lump in her throat before she could continue. "I'm glad you're okay, and I'm glad you came back."

She squeezed him a little tighter, and then leg go, finding she felt infinitely better about life again. "Come on, I'll turn the stove back on, and we can finish cleaning up and then have dinner." Minus the rolls, of course. "And you can tell me what on earth you were doing with my wine...and my bathtub."

She hugged him again, and then climbed to her feet. The carpet was far too soaked. She was going to have to replace it if it didn't dry out in the next day.

But she had a smile on her face by this time. It was easy enough to imagine him flustered over something like the mat having wine on it. "Jake," she said, shaking her head. She opened her mouth to say more, but words were lost on her. What could she say? "You big goof."

She turned back towards the kitchen. "Here," she turned the stove back on, "we can heat this up and...take it to your room to eat it." She stopped as she realized all the bowls were in the sink. "So, what were you doing with the wine and the glasses? Did you drink any of it?"

She hated the idea of turning on the water, but she did it anyway. How else was she going to was a couple of bowls?

A smile was flashed in Jake's direction, and Sherry shook her head. "It does. I've not been able to empty it, and it looks like you weren't either. It's really a good thing neither of us are drinkers." She forced a laugh. "It takes a bit to make me tipsy, but the flask will do it."

She set two, now-clean bowls in the dish drainer and shook her hands. All the towels seemed to be quite soaked. She picked up the spoon and gave the stew a stir. At least this seemed fine.

"I have some bread in the cupboard we can eat with this, instead of the rolls," she said with a small, sad little smile.



Sherry smiled even more. I'm hungry and tired, Armagnac. And I've cleaned up about as much as I can for now.

"Do you mind," she said to Jake, "if we eat in your room?"

Sherry stopped stirring the stew, and looked at it, almost without seeing it. "I don't know, Jake. It might end up being a lot of work. If things dry out quick enough it should be alright though." She turned a smile his way. "Barring any hidden damages from stuff before."

Looking back to the stew, she frowned. It did look a little... Hm. Jake must have wanted it to be extra peppery. It was probably still fine, though. She reached for a spoon to taste it with.

"Can you," she began while dipping the spoon in, "Get into the cupboard above the counter on the end up there and grab the bread?" She then proceeded to blow on the spoon full of stew broth and then stuck it in her mouth.

It took a moment. A moment in which the stew was delightful. And then a wave of pepper flavour hit. It was a bit overpowering, to say the least. Sherry coughed. "Holy crap, Jake!!"

Sherry coughed again, dropping her spoon into the pot and following her first instinct of going for water. Pepper was an interesting spice, not always burning hot, but pepper in your throat sure could be irritating. And the stew seemed to have a whole lot of pepper.

"How much," she breathed, trying not to cough as she reached for a glass that still had some wine in the bottom of it, "pepper," she added some water to that wine, "did you add to that?"

As she turned to look at him, she noticed that her bread and a few of it's cupboard roommates were on the floor, in the remnants of the wine. (Really, it was a huge mess. Armagnac was right, Sherry was trying to pretend it wasn't as bad as it was.)

"Oh," she coughed. That was it. The stew was beyond her eating, at least, and the bread was on the floor and Sherry didn't even know what to do anymore. She coughed again, pepper doing with it could to irritate her throat. And clearly the pepper was making her eyes water.

She looked at Jake. "You could have just told me you didn't want to have dinner. Was it really that bad?"

She did her best to smile because it was a joke. Mostly. She hoped. She tried to laugh, but it really was a cough.