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Jon's stomach started to growl.

"I might need a bite to eat before I jump into the bath. What have you for foodstuffs?"

Jon's stomach growled with ever-increasing intensity.

"Well, I'll see what I can fix myself. Would you care to show me the kitchen?"

Jon grabbed ahold of the large table in the center of the kitchen and softly smiled.

"Thank you, I'll take it from here."

He sat down in a chair momentarily, thinking what would suit his tastes. A sandwich? No. Some pasta? Eh, maybe not. Then it hit him, an invisible lightbulb turning on above his head.

"Soup. It's gotta be soup." Jon carefully looked around the kitchen for a bit of chicken stock. When he opened the cupboard at the back of the room, he grinned, finding an entire stock of massive cans of chicken stock. Grabbing about three of them, he took them to the center table and found a bag of potatoes. He took that to the table as well, then checked the refrigerator for some chicken, which to his luck, was sitting on the middle shelf. Checking the crisper, he discovered string beans and carrots. Jon grabbed a few cans of tomato sauce and some noodles, and started pouring the broth into the pot.

After the broth reached a satisfactory level, he peeled potatoes and chopped them up, putting a substantial amount into the soup. This alone took him about 30 minutes. After this, he cut up the chicken and dropped it in the soup along with carrots and string beans. Jon turned on the burner and put a lid on the massive stainless steel pot and washed his hands, returning the remainder of the ingredients that he already used. All that remained was to add the noodles, which cooked fairly quickly, and then finally the tomato sauce.

"These ladies are in for a real treat." Jon grinned and periodically stirred the soup, keeping seated so he could recover from his fatigue and dizziness.

About half an hour later, Jon had checked on the soup once more, stirring the tasty concoction with his large wooden spoon. The colour of the chicken and softness of the potato was enough to tell him that the soup was almost ready. Ripping the bag of noodles open, he poured the majority of it into the soup and returned the remainder of the bag to the cupboard. With a can opener, Jon took the tops off of the tomato sauce cans and poured some in. When he was satisfied that there was enough, he let it set for a little while longer.

About ten minutes later, he tasted the soup.

"Mmmmmm. Nothing like it." The soup was done. He turned off the burner and let the soup set to cool. The aroma had filled the hallways, most likely reaching the ladies by this point.

"The aroma should guide them back to the kitchen." Jon sat down and chuckled triumphantly.

Jon stirred the soup once more and, when he was satisfied that it had cooled enough, he reached for three bowls. He filled up his own and left the other two for when the ladies were ready to eat. Grabbing a spoon, he began to dig in carefully, making sure it wasn't too hot.

"I haven't had a good bowl of soup like this in ages. Nothing like making it homemade." He took a bite of a piece of potato and closed his eyes in satisfaction. It's perfect. Absolutely flawless.

Jon smiled.

"It's an old recipe. My mother used to make it during the wintertime. It would keep us warm, and the pot usually lasted three or four days afterwards. It's been one of my favourite dishes for a very long time." He spooned a piece of chicken and string bean into his mouth, carefully chewing and enjoying the combination.

Jon headed in the opposite direction to the bathhouse. There he drew the bathwater and, when the tub was full, he stripped down and stepped in. The hot water sent shivers up and down his spine as he stepped in, but he sat down in the tub and reclined a bit, closing his eyes and relaxing.

"How refreshing. It's been quite a while."