✠.｡.:Azazel Wiess Homura:.｡.✠
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Azazel smiled to himself as he cooked, he had so many good memories associated with the activity. He chopped vegetables with smooth economic strokes, pausing every now and then to stir or add things to the pots and pans on the burner. In the kitchen, if nowhere else, things just seemed to come together under Azazel's hands. He'd long since learned to multitask cooking, knew when to start each dish, when they needed his utmost attention and when he could let them simmer away while his focus was on another pan. He knew exactly what was needed and when to have all the ingredients and dishes come together to become a meal even while he was also putting aside things that would become the next day's bentos with a minimum of further preparation. For as long as he could remember, Azazel had always loved to cook, he loved the smell of a kitchen, he loved the contact with the products, he loved to see how something so simple as the ingredients he used could transform into such beautiful things just by the magic of his own hands, and, more than anything else in the world, he loved to see the smile on other people's faces when they ate his cooking. Azazel realized that, more than cooking, what he liked was making people happy. To him, it was an invaluable gift, something precious, something he would never give up on. If he could make people happy just by cooking, just by doing something he liked, then so be it, he wouldn't deny a gift.
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(ＯＯＣ: )
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