lean into what consumes you.

A soft, scratchy hum indicates Jay’s acknowledgement, and he’s drifted close enough to the table to set a few of the utensils in their proper spots as Alana scurries back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. There’s a soothing quality to the repetition of motion, and the mundaneness of setting the table with his daughter. Eating alone after knowing the company of sharing a meal with someone close to you had been one of the most painful parts of losing her.

It was difficult to dwell on sad things with Phil singing his heart out, though, and Jay wasn’t disturbed by these thoughts, nor did they last. He adjusted a crooked butter knife without a word, only glancing in Alana’s direction when she left to answer her phone. He’d always been insistent on allowing her her privacy, and when she had been a teenager given her as much space as he thought was appropriate - he trusted her to tell him things she thought were important for him to know, after all - and so almost automatically turned his head away to try and tune into whatever musical number her joint-custody cat had invested himself in. He placed the last fork at Raleigh’s spot at the table before he did his own. All water under the bridge, it seemed.

When Alana returned (and with a fork, too), he gestured to the table a little absently. “We could pull up a chair for him,” the cat, “since it’s already set.” Apparently he had already accepted that Phil simply needed to be involved in things.

Alana laughed. “Oh, I bet Phil would love that! Actually- that reminds me, Dr. Babineaux gave me something recently as a present. I think he sort of got the wrong idea, because me and Raleigh sometimes talk about Phil as like, the baby, since we split custody so it’s kind of like, a joke, you know- who’s turn is it to have the kid over at their place- but! Hang on!” She chirped, before wandering off to come back with a... highchair. 

It slides up to the table well enough, and Phil comes to the table with minimal fussing. Alana is holding him like a bag of bread, and dumps him into the seat- though she doesn’t bother with the buckles. He seems perplexed by his new surroundings- but having finished the musical number he was just meowing along to and the movie paused on the television, he seems content enough to sit. He rearranges himself, mostly flopped onto the tray and eyeing up Jay curiously- and then the vegetables, meowing obnoxiously. 

“There! And unlike like, a real baby, he doesn’t actually need to be strapped in, since it won’t hurt him if he hops out,” Alana said. Phil’s catfood bowl is picked up and plopped onto the tray. He seems interested in sniffing around at the small carrot coin Alana places on top for him. Satisfied that he’s preoccupied with his own meal, Alana takes her place at the table- brushing elbows with Jay.