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Raven did recall a stop on the way.. she had been hoping that the stop was important.. apparently it had been.

With a long sigh she slid into the tub... healed her body might be, but her mind still remembered all the abuse she had put herself through. "Ice cream really would be nice.. or perhaps some cheese and crackers. Anything really love, I don't really care at this point."

The hot water was like heaven, enveloping her body and making her even more sleepy if that was possible.

Raven was happily half asleep in her mini swimming pool upstairs... but John would find that although the kitchen was very short on perishables, it was well stocked with dry food stuffs and dry herbs as well as lots of pots, pans, knives and other kitchen things.

If he looked in the drawers he would find what looked like a family cook book, it was packed with simple recipes... most of them deserts, but there was a good selection for several different types of meat and vegetables.

The oven was a very obvious appliance, with a four burner range and even a side grill on top, all shiny stainless steel to mach the fridge with side-by-side freezer.

There were nice deep pans all in the pull-out tray under the oven.. and as long as he remembered to light the gas, the burners on top of the stove were easy enough to work!

((How can i refuse the delightful Nedyfay Norrel? Sorry for not posting lately Hono'o, i got distracted by other things - dont worry, i haven't forgotten you!! ))

John looked down at the potatoe he'd just tried to chop up, and at the knife that was obviously way too big for what he had planned to use it for. As usual, he thought big was better, and had gotten out the biggest kitchen knife he could find to do basically everything - peel the potatoes and carrots, slice and dice them as well as the onion. He dumped the potatoes into a pot to boil.

Stabbing the knife into the chopping board so it jutted out, now he had to cook the mince. Taking the frozen lump of meat from the freezer, he place it onto the kitchen counter and proceeded to smash it with his metallic fist, shattering it into pieces and getting meat bits all over the kitchen, before dumping the lot into another pot to cook, adding the carrots and onions at the same time, as well as a couple of handfuls of peas, covering it over with the lid to ignore the smell it was making.

He mixed up the worcestershire sauce, cornstarch and some of the meat juice into a bowl, flecks of dark sauce getting onto his shirt and face, licking it from his lips to see what it was like before setting it aside. When the meat was cooked - or, at least, he figured it was - he poured it into a bowl and stirred in the sauce, letting the slop mix throughly.

Taking the potatoes off the boil, he drained them before using his hand to mash them, squishing them between his metallic fingers till they were nice and runny, before spreading the mash over the top of the meat. Taking the package of cheese from the fridge, he grated it over the mash as best he could, reaching the end of the cheese too quickly and scraping his metal fingers over the grater, getting a few big shards of metal in the pie. He picked these out very, very carefully before binning the now ruined grater and almost threw the pie into the oven.

He looked about the kitchen as the pie cooked, a look of concern etched onto his face. It looked like a warzone - pots piled in the skin covered in food, flecks of sauce and meat and mash splattered on the walls, floor and ceiling...he didn't look much better, his shirt covered in cooking crud. He was certain there was mash and meat in his long hair too, but his metallic hand was caked in mash, and he could not wash it out in the sink - too many pots.

Finally, it was complete, and when John finally decided to pull it out of the oven to smell it, it didn't smell like a complete disaster. It was - the meat was overcooked, the sauce was too runny and the potatoes were lumpy as Scotland, but it smelled right, and thats what mattered.

Estatic with glee, he grabbed some plates and forks and bound up the stairs, still holding onto the searing hot cassarole dish to bound into the bathroom, where Raven was still lying, soaking. "Tadaa! One Shepards Pie!"

"You got it!"

Sitting cross-legged before the tub, he put the dish down in front of him and the plates beside it. It suddenly occured to him that he'd forgotten to get anything to serve it with...

Ingenunity was the key to victory, and he used the forks to slice into the crispy top of the mash before trying to scoop it out - but the sauce was too runny, so all he did was take the little lid of the mash and slip it onto the plate. "...Dammit..." He growled, checking to make sure she wasn't watching - before using his hand to scoop the slop out, wincing hard at the burning of his hand as he dumped it onto the plate before sticking the fork into it and holding it out with his semi-clean potatoe-mash covered metallic hand. "Dinner's served..."

John frowned as he scooped his portion onto his plate, looking at it in disdain - it looked nothing like in the picture on the cookbook. Nevertheless, it was still edible....potatoes were kinda lumpy, but the cheese was crispy enough...

"Isn't that what boiling water is? Burning water?" He asked, looking up to her as she ate. "...So...uh....whats it like?"

Lets face it, it was mediocre at best, but he hoped she would be honest...

John nodded in satisfaction, noting the critque and making sure he fixes it in the future. The sheer fact that it even reminded her of field rations made him a little sad, however - if she had the same C-Rats he'd had in his life, she'd know that this meal before them may as well be a well cooked sirlion steak!

"...I couldn't find your masher...and i think i used too much broth in the sauce..." He grumbled, scooping some more of the slop into his mouth. Oh well, at least they weren't gonna die from it....at least, he wont. Poisons didn't really work on him....he just hoped he hadn't given her the runs...