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Cleaning is messy work, despite its name. Once Alphonse has successfully skinned, gutted, and beheaded the animals, he brings them inside for actual preparation and cooking.

Shutting the door behind him, he puts the rabbits on the counter, sifting through his drawers for the proper knives and rifling through the spice cabinet. Washing his hands, he looks out from the kitchen into the living room.

"Is there any way you would like your food prepared?" Alphonse asks, his voice sounding somewhat resigned. He gets the sinking feeling that Alva is probably a nauseatingly picky eater. He wasn't even sure what else to say to her, and he couldn't even find something to complain about, not even the music.

That is bound to change within the immediate future, but right now the doctor is feeling at least somewhat neutral towards that woman.

Oh, thank whatever God may be watching over him that Alva isn't as picky as an eater as he had anticipated. "Most excellent," Alphonse croons, "then you will hopefully enjoy this." He turns and walks back into the kitchen, laying out an assortment of spices and meticulously cutting the meat off of the bone and setting it on the rack for cooking. He lights the fire beneath it, taking a step back and checking his watch.

He ambles back into the living room, picking out a chair across from Alva and knitting his fingers before him, setting his hands on the table. "It sounds like it has been some time since you've last played," he absently comments, wincing.

"If you enjoy eating meat, it'll likely be the only meat for eating on this here isle. The animals are going to be kept on a vegetarian diet, to suppress the carnivorous urges in them and lower the chances of them turning on us, the real men," Alphonse explains, putting his elbows on the tabletop and leaning forward.

His eyes wander over to the cello, wordlessly watching Alva practice the instrument. After she's done, he forces a grin. "That reminds me, I ought to tune and practice my piano sometime soon. But not tonight, no," he shakes his head, "it's on the list for tomorrow after I work on the dog."

There's a beat of silence, and then a low, miserable sound wafts over from the very back of the house. It sounds almost canine in origin, but there's something distinctly unsettling about the noise.

"Uuuuu..."

"I've started to come to expect that you don't possess most skills required for being a proper woman," Alphonse remarks, "and lucky for you, I'm a good cook. Matya taught me how to cook growing up. She is very good at cooking, but I don't know if I could ever create such lavish and large meals as she does."

A nostalgic smile crosses his face as his eyes wander up towards the ceiling. "I miss Matya, I should write her a letter," he says to himself. He doesn't seem to hear Alva's request to see him at his piano, and is snapped out of his thoughts by the pitiful sound from the back of the house. Wrinking his nose, he puts his hands down.

Speak of the devil, and it shall call. "That would be the dog, yes," says the doctor, his voice terse. "I should feed it, too." He quietly debates with himself on whether or not he should show the dog to Alva, looking at her, then gazing down the hallway where his bedroom is.

"Auuu... faaauuu..."

"I cannot imagine you being the wife of any man," Alphonse mutters to himself, scowling. He gets up out of his chair, pushing it in after himself as he starts to walk towards the kitchen.

"I might as well," he says, "if only to get it to stop from making those awful noises." He pokes around in the cabinets before pulling out a small box, opening it up and peeking inside. He recoils away - it likely smells pretty foul - and closes the lid, then ambles to the back of the house with the box in hand.

He disappears into his room, leaving the door open. His voice can be heard from the living room.

"Faaaau... Faaaau-thurrrr..." The creature's voice comes out like a gurgle, desperate and afraid.

"Yes, good, I am Father."

"Faaaau-thurrrrr, faaaau... Uuuuuu...."

"I brought you some food. You may have it if you can hold up two fingers. Can you hold up two fingers?" The sound of something rustling can be heard, and Alphonse coos in response, "Very good." A cage door opening and shutting can be heard, after something is set down.

"Thaaaau... Yuuuuu..."

"You're welcome," Alphonse says warmly, like the tone of a father praising his son after performing a good deed. He then leaves the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him. "Its speech is coming along quite well," he murmurs to himself with a satisfied smile, "I'll need to note that in my journal after dinner."

He stops himself halfway down the hallway, holding up a finger. "Which reminds me, I need to check on our dinner," he says, taking a brisk walk into the kitchen.

"Why do I get the feeling this will be one of the few things we'll agree on?" Alphonse says in response.

Alphonse returns to his seat from checking the stove. "Oh, yes -- I certainly am, as you may have heard, the animal has started to speak. It is far from being considered complete, but considering that before it was just a stupid beast but mere months ago, it's definitely worthwhile. I'd show the animal to you, but it would be an unpleasant sight right before dinner."

He looks over his shoulder, towards the kitchen. "Dinner should be ready shortly, I'm letting it stay in the oven for a little longer. I'll-- I'll go get the silverware and plates. Oh, and something to drink..! How could I be so forgetful..." He hastily gets up, making a dash for the kitchen again.

Alphonse spends a good amount of time fussing in the kitchen, finally pulling the rabbits off the cooking rack and onto the plates he's laid out, adding some vegetables on the side and resting the meat a lettuce leaf. Leaving the plates on the counter, he zips over to the other side of the kitchen to pull something off the wine rack, collecting two goblets in the other hand.

He pops out just as quickly as he had ran into the kitchen, setting the glasses on either side of the table and filling them before setting the bottle down in the middle of the table and disappearing into the kitchen again. He comes back out with silverware, laying them out all proper and lined up, and vanishes again. It's a wonder the man hasn't tripped himself yet.

The pace he's moving at is almost like a cartoon, had cartoons existed in that time period.

The doctor leaves the kitchen for one last time, balancing the main course in both hands. He slowly ambles over and gently sets the dishes down, plopping into his chair and trying to catch his breath, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves.

"Dinner is served." Alphonse smirks. "I take it you are not the type to say grace before a meal. No worries, neither am I."

"Good." Alphonse takes up the knife and fork for himself, carefully cutting the meat into small bites and staring intently at his dish. He doesn't respond to Alva's remark about being impressive, but instead looks up and points at her with his knife.

"Be careful with my knives, they are very sharp. You needn't cut into the food so roughly, you know, applying such force like that," he says, splitting one of his cut pieces in half with just a flick of his wrist to make an example of this. "Surgeons do not own dull knives, not even for eating."

He then waves his hand at her in a shooing motion, "Go on, try it..!"

Color Alphonse impressed if Alva eats like a woman. The fact she's using the utensils is a plus, otherwise he would have lost all hope for her.