After the incident in the garden, Nil has been. Perhaps wary of Garrot. Not unfriendly or cold, but not exactly his usual warm and friendly self, either.
He lingers in the kitchen this morning, however, only halfway through preparing breakfast at the moment. He can't exactly leave things on the fire unattended, no matter how much Easier it would be to just abandon his task and find another.
He continues to push the eggs around the pan, turning the handle inwards now that it's not just him in here.
Silence, save for the sizzling of neutral oil and egg and bacon grease. When suddenly-
If Nil's distance was out of character, Garrot was thoroughly unaware. Neither of them were their typical self at their last meeting, and Garrot had hardly been taking guests since then.
At times, when the wind blew gentle and warm through his window, Garrot had thought about his cocoons and those wrapped inside. In the attic, the creaking of the house was a lullaby, and each cocoon was cradled in summer's warmth, shining bright through the cracked window. When his time with the plants were done, he had liked to visit with them and tell them of the day's adventures. He sat with them, and he'd tell them of everything they had to look forward to, when their time came.
They were, almost certainly, all dead.
In the end, Nil was the only one to emerge, and the sight of him filled Garrot with a strange, bubbling mixture of shame, pride, and relief. The silence he'd forced everyone to expect offered a secure blanket from the discomfort.
He had been planning to get a snack then sit with the hive--they were as alien to him as before, but the familiarity of their movements was still a comfort--but Nil's words stopped him. He rested his hand on the counter and stared at Nil's back too long before remembering this was a joke that didn't work without a response, and today, on a curious whim, he decided to give one.
