Not for the first time do they wish they had healing abilities. A long time ago they could have offered him their blood for healing. But that's pointless. He'd refuse anyway.
"I'm..." Don't lie. "Ain't quite okay. But I don't feel as tired."
Sleeping for hours after not sleeping for pretty much all of their life tends to do that. Out of the hospital and Héctor doesn't look like someone fucked up the undead ritual. It's enough for them.
They feel like a little kid when he smooths their hair back but don't stop him. It's nice. Simple. And lately they really don't mind simple when compared to all of this bullshit.
Nekane takes his hand just so they have something to hold. They think they drift off again for a bit but it's hard to tell. It seems their body is absolutely determined to make up for all of the sleep Nekane's skipped out on.
When they realize they're awake again, they're already talking.
"I said...I'd talk about that shit, didn't I? The memories."
Their one and only chance to feel like a little kid. They take his hand and his fingers curl loosely around theirs. They slip off to sleep once more and he takes that time to move closer to them.
It's been a selfish thing, settled in his heart, the want to be close just like this. They so often turned sleep down-- or otherwise, slept too fitfully for either of them. He thinks, if not for that, he'd worry about how tired they are. But, for now, he's content to just stay with them through it.
When they finally stir again, he's slower to re-awaken. He gives their hand a squeeze.
They want to say no even though they were the one to bring it up. But that's part of the cycle, isn't it? Refusing it over and over. Just like sleeping, even if that was because of their phobia in the long run. Something else to work on...maybe.
But at least with Héctor Nekane knows they have an out. Unlike with the nurses, they can say stop and it'd stop there. It's the same thing they'd offer to him. So Nekane takes a deep breath before just starting to talk.
"That first memory...I don't actually remember it. The nurses were right when they said I blocked it out." And they really can't blame themself for it. Getting disemboweled after all of the crap they've gone through...yeah. Anyone would block it out.
"That was the God of the Aegle Family. After my eyes were carved out...I tried tearing out my throat. It wasn't just because I wanted to die. I did it out of spite too. That demon always asked for a set amount of angels and it'd take time to re-make me if I died, so it'd fuck the family over if I kicked the bucket."
Their first and last act of spite as that person. Faced with the choice of giving in or enduring more torture, Nekane took a third option. Because fuck everyone involved with that family.
"It didn't work and he wanted to talk to me about it. I don't think he understood why I did it or why I refused to submit. I remember he said he wanted to look into it. I guess he tried on a physical level."
They say the nurses were right. He makes a face, wanting to say that the nurses were terrible. But his throat is still rough and raw and it's not worth wasting his breath over.
He tries to think of the right thing to say. He tries to think of what would make this better, even a little bit, something that would help them. But what comes out is different.
"...I hate him." With his voice the way it is, it comes out soft. There's a curious note to it, like the idea of hatred this deep is novel. "I hate him. 'S nothing t'... doesn't understand what's wrong. Doesn't care. 'S just a monster."
His thumb runs a circle over their hand. He pulls in to hold it to his head, almost like bowing to them.
"I know. But it was going to be the only love I had."
Not that it wasn't already. Delilah already warped their way of thinking when it came to love. Now there's only fear when it comes to the subject. That loving someone means you can hurt them that badly and it'd be fine.
Even people like Héctor can't get rid of those fears. Not completely.
"...but he just didn't understand why I refused him. Narcissism's a bitch. And if I get my hands on the asshole I'm going to strangle him."
That being said, they're not necessarily afraid. Or maybe it's just because that demon's general existence made Nekane so angry they could easily ignore the fear. Or it's both. They don't care.
It sits behind his teeth. The urge to tell them that, while that might have been true once, it wasn't anymore. John had loved them. He...
I love you, says the demon in his memories. His eyes close and he keeps his mouth shut on the topic.
"He's weak," Héctor muses. "Can't stand you seeing the truth. Trying t' leave. Means he might be flawed. Hurt you f'r that. Blamed you."
He doesn't entirely miss the irony of him saying that. It's not normally how he'd phrase it, weakness and strength. Maybe Squalo and Dodger have rubbed off on him.
"Would deserve it. You're going t' beat him one day. Save the world." His head lifts to look at them again, to watch their face. "I'm sorry. You saw that. I didn't help you in time."
They shake their head and let go long enough to pat Héctor's head.
"Not your fault. It wasn't obvious where and when I got taken and it'd be shitty of me to assume you'd know." They're a detective and know people can go missing without a trace so easily. In Hell, more so.
"You came when you did and that's enough for me."
And now they have their full set of memories back of that meeting. It's...not great, to say the least. But it's motivation. And now they know exactly what they're up against.
Everything is useful, even if it's traumatic. That's something John used to say.
But speaking of John, their expression falters. That other memory. Although it's obvious what happened, there were a lot of gaps from an outside perspective.
"The second memory...that was John. Well, I think that's what he really looked like. I don't know for sure. I..."
...can they really do this? Can they really talk about the death of someone who meant the world to Nekane? Even though they knew exactly when he was going to die?
A head pat. That makes him smile. It makes him feel like a kid. They forgive him, making good points, so he supposes they're right. But he still wishes.
He nods along. He'd guessed as much. No one else in the world would get Nekane to hold their hand. Not before this place.
He's not surprised they falter.
He whispers to them, after moving in to press the softest kiss to their forehead and drawing back. He says;
"It's okay to grieve. It's safe to. You can tell me what you're thinking. You can tell me how you feel. Whatever way you want to. Just feel it."
And maybe, after that, they can feel a little better.
"Keep talking." They told him once. And it's the same here, isn't it? Just talk. Get it all out.
"...John was...I don't know much about his past. But something had him seek out everything about his life. You see, there are people who can tell you shit like why you were on Earth or if you were ever going to meet your soul mate. When he was five, John asked about his death."
They remember the way John told the story. They remember that he sounded a little sad. He knew for so long the exact time and date of when he was going to die. "I can't say I regret asking. But I didn't think about the weight of that kind of shit. Don't try it, kid. It ain't worth knowing."
"He warned me when I chose to stay. I knew he was going to die from the beginning. I didn't care at the time but when the date started getting closer, I...I..."
They were scared. They didn't want him to die and they tried everything they could think of. But...
It didn't work. They couldn't help him.
"What you saw....John said that how he died was up to him. We just had a day out. That's all he wanted. Just a quiet day."
Why he chose that when he could have done whatever he wanted, they don't know. They don't understand the choices of a dying man.
Five years old, asking about death. It says something terrible. Simple naivete wouldn't have led John to search. Nothing about John suggested naivete.
He's not surprised Nekane didn't think much of it at first, knowing what they climbed out of. He's equally unsurprised that they came to care so deeply as they did, enough to panic.
Nekane might not understand John's choices there, but he does. Perfectly.
"...That's what I would want. If I only had a day, I wouldn't go anywhere, see anything. I'd want to live those hours. I'd want to be with the people I love the most, who mean the world to me. My family."
A man who chose to learn when he was going to die and a man who chose to celebrate his life as quietly as possible. John's existence was like a wrecking ball in many lives, helping and destroying in equal measure.
He went silently, to the point where many still questioned if he actually died. Only Nekane knew where he was buried.
"I wish he was still alive. I just...I promised I wouldn't bring him back, no matter how I felt. And I won't." John would actually kill them since his stance on the undead ritual was...messy.
But despite that they feel their eyes sting with tears. Nekane scrubs at their face.
"But I just...I want him back. I miss him. And there's so many people that don't-" No. That's just them thinking about Delilah. They don't - can't - talk about her. Not without things getting even more messy.
So they just laugh quietly. "I'm not good at this shit. Surprised those damn nurses just didn't give up."
They loved him. As family and yet more powerful, he thinks. And worse, there was no one there to catch them after the fall.
"No, ssshhh." He smoothes their hair back. "You're doing fine. Dios, Nekane, you're learning as you go and you haven't exactly had a head start." More the opposite.
He shuffles a bit closer, still holding on.
"There's no graceful way to do this. It's all a mess, all of it, no matter who it is. For all that, you're doing fine."
He reaches out of them properly then, pulling them in to a sort of hug.
"He meant everything to you. And you meant so much to him. You two spent so much time together, healed together, caused trouble together. And now it feels like you're on your own. It's all ripped up and it's going to feel ugly. But it's okay. It's okay to miss him. It's okay to cry. Wanting him back, all of it's just fine. Let yourself grieve, my friend. And remember that, even though he can't be with you right now, he's with you in every way he can. In your humor. In your recklessness. In the happiness you feel, when you remember the good times together. In the fact that he cares so much about you and that will never go away, as long as you live. Even if it doesn't feel like enough, you had each other and that will never change. I'm sure he came to be so happy to know you. Just as I am."
They themself couldn't say how deep it went. It wasn't romantic, that much Nekane can say with certainty. But...John was the first human being that broke that despair and hatred of humanity. He presented it simply and expanded in a way they understood when Nekane hurt a kid who tried touching their wings. Cycles and what ifs are bullshit.
Even if it's something that you have a hard time breaking. Like reaching for a cigarette when you're quitting smoking or refusing sleep.
Héctor pulls them closer and they don't fight it. Not for the first time Nekane wonders when they stopped minding this sort of closeness. Even their file in that hospital had made note they made an exception for Héctor.
"...mushy. So fucking m-mushy." They hiccup, causing a stutter and bury themself against him and in the blankets. But he's right and Nekane knows he's right. Missing someone, mourning them. It's okay.
It's okay.
Nekane takes a deep breath and just...lets themself cry. And more importantly, remember. His expression when they first woke up, his reaction when they called him 'John Doe' for the first time. Every little thing is in their memory and they'll never give it up. John stuck his hand in a bear trap and pulled out someone who was just as fucked up as he was...but.
"He...he saved my life. He's the reason why I'm alive." Because Nekane's not stupid and knew if they found someone else, they would have died. Someone who was nothing helped someone who had to be nothing. "I wish he had a better fucking life but I'm happy he had it anyway. Does...that make sense? Or...does it really matter if I make no fucking sense?"
Mushy, they say, and he smiles fondly, unashamedly. He knows they don't actually disagree with anything he's said.
They go quiet and he doesn't try to speak or stop it. He lets the cry onto his, dampening his shirt. He runs a hand through their hair, soothing the rougher hiccups and sobs when he can. He has a feeling this is all well over due.
"It makes sense," He answers when they finally speak again. "But it also doesn't have to." Because the point isn't to explain so much as feel it. And maybe be heard.
He kisses the top of their head once again.
"I understand. I've felt the same way. Sometimes those rough paths lead us places. I'll always be grateful to him, for saving you."
They laugh a little bit. "He'd just say that he was in a good mood that day." But they know it's not the case. He's not the kind of guy to give them an option he'd yank out from under them.
Or maybe they were one of the few exceptions John made in his life. It was hard to tell.
"...thank you." They know Héctor's the kind of person to listen but there's listening and helping. He does both by being here.
Or is it more that they can simply relax when he's around? It's hard to tell. Like standing on a cliff and are about to look over it. Nekane doesn't know.
"I can see him saying that," He agrees. But he doesn't think John would mean it. It's something Nekane would say, to brush off thanks, but they wouldn't mean it either.
He reaches out and once again brushes their hair back from their eyes. It's not so much that it's ever in the way as it's the excuse to touch and comfort. He smiles, too fond, but Nekane doesn't know and can't tell, so it's okay.
"De nada, Kane," He says back softly. Then, with a slight pause, he asks, "Do you want more sleep? Or would you like me to make breakfast for us?"
They pause and think, and then get hung up on the fact that they're deciding between eating and sleeping. Normally they would just move from one thing to another and skip the whole sleeping thing. But with having slept for most of the day - or week, they don't know - Nekane actually feels pretty good.
And hungry. Yeah. Priorities.
"Breakfast, probably. Slept too fucking long. Gimmie a minute though and I'll give you a hand."
They need to extract themself from the blankets and all.
"My body acts like I've never fucking slept." Because they have. When they pass out from sleep deprivation. "It's useless."
But despite their grumbling they do eventually untangle themself from the blankets and join Héctor in the kitchen. They immediately shuffle over to the coffee maker and start it up. Two cups, one for them and for Héctor if he wants, and an energy drink and sugar.
"Your body takes you farther than any body reasonably should. Ought to consider yourself lucky it puts up with your nonsense," He says back to them, laughing.
Though really, he's one to talk.
He doesn't have the health know-how to call out their drink choices but he smirks anyway because no one could pay him to drink the things Nekane does. Too sweet. Much too sweet.
"Maybe for the fresher stuff. We should have enough staples for another day at least, seeing as we were gone all that time." He goes to make up his own coffee and then takes a sip. Nice to be able to have this whenever. "Welcome home by the way."
They make a face back at Héctor, despite the knowledge of every single health book that they consumed that said they'd probably have died of a heart attack years ago if they were human. But if the universe wanted them to stop eating sugar, someone would have to make it taste less good.
So into the coffee the energy drink goes. Messed up organs for the win.
"I'll go through it all and write down a list. Remembered a couple of recipes that you might like." It'll be easy on his stomach too. Maybe they should start looking into vegetarian options too.
It feels weird to have someone welcome them home. John was usually neck-deep in his case files or was otherwise checked out. He showed how he felt in different ways. And when he died Nekane came back to their own empty apartment day in and out. Often they didn't leave.
He notices the way they look when he says that. He tucks the memory away, somewhere in his head where he hopes it will last. He smiles down at his coffee cup.
"Sounds nice." Even if he struggled with food, the gesture was still something. He trusted Nekane as much as he could trust anyone.
He starts looking through the cupboards and the fridge.
"So, what would you like? Huevos, huevos rancheros, chilaquiles... buñuelos?" He looks back at their face.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"I'm..." Don't lie. "Ain't quite okay. But I don't feel as tired."
Sleeping for hours after not sleeping for pretty much all of their life tends to do that. Out of the hospital and Héctor doesn't look like someone fucked up the undead ritual. It's enough for them.
But. "Are you okay?"
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He notices the way they catch themself, the way they correct. A small smile lingers on him.
"I'm glad to hear that," He says. "You've been due for a while."
He reaches out. His hand smooths back some of their hair.
"'M doing better. Here."
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They feel like a little kid when he smooths their hair back but don't stop him. It's nice. Simple. And lately they really don't mind simple when compared to all of this bullshit.
Nekane takes his hand just so they have something to hold. They think they drift off again for a bit but it's hard to tell. It seems their body is absolutely determined to make up for all of the sleep Nekane's skipped out on.
When they realize they're awake again, they're already talking.
"I said...I'd talk about that shit, didn't I? The memories."
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It's been a selfish thing, settled in his heart, the want to be close just like this. They so often turned sleep down-- or otherwise, slept too fitfully for either of them. He thinks, if not for that, he'd worry about how tired they are. But, for now, he's content to just stay with them through it.
When they finally stir again, he's slower to re-awaken. He gives their hand a squeeze.
"You did. Did you want to talk now?"
cw: suicide talk
But at least with Héctor Nekane knows they have an out. Unlike with the nurses, they can say stop and it'd stop there. It's the same thing they'd offer to him. So Nekane takes a deep breath before just starting to talk.
"That first memory...I don't actually remember it. The nurses were right when they said I blocked it out." And they really can't blame themself for it. Getting disemboweled after all of the crap they've gone through...yeah. Anyone would block it out.
"That was the God of the Aegle Family. After my eyes were carved out...I tried tearing out my throat. It wasn't just because I wanted to die. I did it out of spite too. That demon always asked for a set amount of angels and it'd take time to re-make me if I died, so it'd fuck the family over if I kicked the bucket."
Their first and last act of spite as that person. Faced with the choice of giving in or enduring more torture, Nekane took a third option. Because fuck everyone involved with that family.
"It didn't work and he wanted to talk to me about it. I don't think he understood why I did it or why I refused to submit. I remember he said he wanted to look into it. I guess he tried on a physical level."
With all that entailed.
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He tries to think of the right thing to say. He tries to think of what would make this better, even a little bit, something that would help them. But what comes out is different.
"...I hate him." With his voice the way it is, it comes out soft. There's a curious note to it, like the idea of hatred this deep is novel. "I hate him. 'S nothing t'... doesn't understand what's wrong. Doesn't care. 'S just a monster."
His thumb runs a circle over their hand. He pulls in to hold it to his head, almost like bowing to them.
"That's not love. It's not."
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Not that it wasn't already. Delilah already warped their way of thinking when it came to love. Now there's only fear when it comes to the subject. That loving someone means you can hurt them that badly and it'd be fine.
Even people like Héctor can't get rid of those fears. Not completely.
"...but he just didn't understand why I refused him. Narcissism's a bitch. And if I get my hands on the asshole I'm going to strangle him."
That being said, they're not necessarily afraid. Or maybe it's just because that demon's general existence made Nekane so angry they could easily ignore the fear. Or it's both. They don't care.
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I love you, says the demon in his memories. His eyes close and he keeps his mouth shut on the topic.
"He's weak," Héctor muses. "Can't stand you seeing the truth. Trying t' leave. Means he might be flawed. Hurt you f'r that. Blamed you."
He doesn't entirely miss the irony of him saying that. It's not normally how he'd phrase it, weakness and strength. Maybe Squalo and Dodger have rubbed off on him.
"Would deserve it. You're going t' beat him one day. Save the world." His head lifts to look at them again, to watch their face. "I'm sorry. You saw that. I didn't help you in time."
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"Not your fault. It wasn't obvious where and when I got taken and it'd be shitty of me to assume you'd know." They're a detective and know people can go missing without a trace so easily. In Hell, more so.
"You came when you did and that's enough for me."
And now they have their full set of memories back of that meeting. It's...not great, to say the least. But it's motivation. And now they know exactly what they're up against.
Everything is useful, even if it's traumatic. That's something John used to say.
But speaking of John, their expression falters. That other memory. Although it's obvious what happened, there were a lot of gaps from an outside perspective.
"The second memory...that was John. Well, I think that's what he really looked like. I don't know for sure. I..."
...can they really do this? Can they really talk about the death of someone who meant the world to Nekane? Even though they knew exactly when he was going to die?
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He nods along. He'd guessed as much. No one else in the world would get Nekane to hold their hand. Not before this place.
He's not surprised they falter.
He whispers to them, after moving in to press the softest kiss to their forehead and drawing back. He says;
"It's okay to grieve. It's safe to. You can tell me what you're thinking. You can tell me how you feel. Whatever way you want to. Just feel it."
And maybe, after that, they can feel a little better.
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"...John was...I don't know much about his past. But something had him seek out everything about his life. You see, there are people who can tell you shit like why you were on Earth or if you were ever going to meet your soul mate. When he was five, John asked about his death."
They remember the way John told the story. They remember that he sounded a little sad. He knew for so long the exact time and date of when he was going to die. "I can't say I regret asking. But I didn't think about the weight of that kind of shit. Don't try it, kid. It ain't worth knowing."
"He warned me when I chose to stay. I knew he was going to die from the beginning. I didn't care at the time but when the date started getting closer, I...I..."
They were scared. They didn't want him to die and they tried everything they could think of. But...
It didn't work. They couldn't help him.
"What you saw....John said that how he died was up to him. We just had a day out. That's all he wanted. Just a quiet day."
Why he chose that when he could have done whatever he wanted, they don't know. They don't understand the choices of a dying man.
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He's not surprised Nekane didn't think much of it at first, knowing what they climbed out of. He's equally unsurprised that they came to care so deeply as they did, enough to panic.
Nekane might not understand John's choices there, but he does. Perfectly.
"...That's what I would want. If I only had a day, I wouldn't go anywhere, see anything. I'd want to live those hours. I'd want to be with the people I love the most, who mean the world to me. My family."
He gives their hand a light squeeze.
"It sounds like John chose that too."
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He went silently, to the point where many still questioned if he actually died. Only Nekane knew where he was buried.
"I wish he was still alive. I just...I promised I wouldn't bring him back, no matter how I felt. And I won't." John would actually kill them since his stance on the undead ritual was...messy.
But despite that they feel their eyes sting with tears. Nekane scrubs at their face.
"But I just...I want him back. I miss him. And there's so many people that don't-" No. That's just them thinking about Delilah. They don't - can't - talk about her. Not without things getting even more messy.
So they just laugh quietly. "I'm not good at this shit. Surprised those damn nurses just didn't give up."
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"No, ssshhh." He smoothes their hair back. "You're doing fine. Dios, Nekane, you're learning as you go and you haven't exactly had a head start." More the opposite.
He shuffles a bit closer, still holding on.
"There's no graceful way to do this. It's all a mess, all of it, no matter who it is. For all that, you're doing fine."
He reaches out of them properly then, pulling them in to a sort of hug.
"He meant everything to you. And you meant so much to him. You two spent so much time together, healed together, caused trouble together. And now it feels like you're on your own. It's all ripped up and it's going to feel ugly. But it's okay. It's okay to miss him. It's okay to cry. Wanting him back, all of it's just fine. Let yourself grieve, my friend. And remember that, even though he can't be with you right now, he's with you in every way he can. In your humor. In your recklessness. In the happiness you feel, when you remember the good times together. In the fact that he cares so much about you and that will never go away, as long as you live. Even if it doesn't feel like enough, you had each other and that will never change. I'm sure he came to be so happy to know you. Just as I am."
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Even if it's something that you have a hard time breaking. Like reaching for a cigarette when you're quitting smoking or refusing sleep.
Héctor pulls them closer and they don't fight it. Not for the first time Nekane wonders when they stopped minding this sort of closeness. Even their file in that hospital had made note they made an exception for Héctor.
"...mushy. So fucking m-mushy." They hiccup, causing a stutter and bury themself against him and in the blankets. But he's right and Nekane knows he's right. Missing someone, mourning them. It's okay.
It's okay.
Nekane takes a deep breath and just...lets themself cry. And more importantly, remember. His expression when they first woke up, his reaction when they called him 'John Doe' for the first time. Every little thing is in their memory and they'll never give it up. John stuck his hand in a bear trap and pulled out someone who was just as fucked up as he was...but.
"He...he saved my life. He's the reason why I'm alive." Because Nekane's not stupid and knew if they found someone else, they would have died. Someone who was nothing helped someone who had to be nothing. "I wish he had a better fucking life but I'm happy he had it anyway. Does...that make sense? Or...does it really matter if I make no fucking sense?"
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They go quiet and he doesn't try to speak or stop it. He lets the cry onto his, dampening his shirt. He runs a hand through their hair, soothing the rougher hiccups and sobs when he can. He has a feeling this is all well over due.
"It makes sense," He answers when they finally speak again. "But it also doesn't have to." Because the point isn't to explain so much as feel it. And maybe be heard.
He kisses the top of their head once again.
"I understand. I've felt the same way. Sometimes those rough paths lead us places. I'll always be grateful to him, for saving you."
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Or maybe they were one of the few exceptions John made in his life. It was hard to tell.
"...thank you." They know Héctor's the kind of person to listen but there's listening and helping. He does both by being here.
Or is it more that they can simply relax when he's around? It's hard to tell. Like standing on a cliff and are about to look over it. Nekane doesn't know.
It's...strange.
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He reaches out and once again brushes their hair back from their eyes. It's not so much that it's ever in the way as it's the excuse to touch and comfort. He smiles, too fond, but Nekane doesn't know and can't tell, so it's okay.
"De nada, Kane," He says back softly. Then, with a slight pause, he asks, "Do you want more sleep? Or would you like me to make breakfast for us?"
Regardless of what time of day it is down here.
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And hungry. Yeah. Priorities.
"Breakfast, probably. Slept too fucking long. Gimmie a minute though and I'll give you a hand."
They need to extract themself from the blankets and all.
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He pats their should and sits up.
"I'll meet you out there. Take your time."
He can at least pull things out, ready some toast... After skipping meals as much as he could in the hospital, he's probably overdue too.
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But despite their grumbling they do eventually untangle themself from the blankets and join Héctor in the kitchen. They immediately shuffle over to the coffee maker and start it up. Two cups, one for them and for Héctor if he wants, and an energy drink and sugar.
Healthy.
"Might need to go shopping later on."
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Though really, he's one to talk.
He doesn't have the health know-how to call out their drink choices but he smirks anyway because no one could pay him to drink the things Nekane does. Too sweet. Much too sweet.
"Maybe for the fresher stuff. We should have enough staples for another day at least, seeing as we were gone all that time." He goes to make up his own coffee and then takes a sip. Nice to be able to have this whenever. "Welcome home by the way."
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So into the coffee the energy drink goes. Messed up organs for the win.
"I'll go through it all and write down a list. Remembered a couple of recipes that you might like." It'll be easy on his stomach too. Maybe they should start looking into vegetarian options too.
It feels weird to have someone welcome them home. John was usually neck-deep in his case files or was otherwise checked out. He showed how he felt in different ways. And when he died Nekane came back to their own empty apartment day in and out. Often they didn't leave.
Weird. But they don't hate it. "Good to be back."
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"Sounds nice." Even if he struggled with food, the gesture was still something. He trusted Nekane as much as he could trust anyone.
He starts looking through the cupboards and the fridge.
"So, what would you like? Huevos, huevos rancheros, chilaquiles... buñuelos?" He looks back at their face.
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But he speaks up and they make themself pay attention. "Huevos sounds nice. Want a hand making it?"
They might still be sleepy but they'll do their best to help.
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