Seriously, nothing in Jo's opinion beat Kyouhei's home cooking. Even the hoba misa or the hida beef at Gifu couldn't compare to this. She wondered why home cooked food tasted so much better than random takayaki and ramen stands on the corner. Before Kyouhei had ever entered the scene, those were the places she most frequented if she was hungry. That or order pizza. That's how all of them had lived thus far. Eating cold pizza in the morning, maybe some ramen in the evening, sometimes Sei would bring take-out home just to mix things up, until they fell back on their habit of pizza slices and hamburgers. Jo knew it wasn't healthy. Meg and Amy could give a crap if it was healthy. And Sei had had enough of picking the pepperoni and sausage off her pizza. So out of the necessity to live past the age of nineteen and not die of heart problems, Sei had introduced the program of a healthy diet into their lives by hiring Kyouhei and getting the little runt to work for them. Because getting back to her point, home-cooked meals were simply put...awesome. She had seen Meg, on some occasions chance this task and she had seen the end result--a burnt stovetop and the first time use of their fire extinguisher--Cooking had seemed to her, in her quiet analysis of that situation: a difficult, exacting process that required concentration, an innate sense of measurement--Not, this looks like the right amount, right?--and tolerance for pain and the element of surprise. Because when Meg had started screaming that the kitchen was on fire--And Oh my god we're all gonna die!--it had surely taken some precious seconds off her life. That in itself was a monument to how stressful a task preparing a meal was, because if it could spook her and spike up her adrenalin levels, it didn't seem so safe to even microwave ramen anymore. Jo was starting to believe the women of this trailer had some inescapable curse placed on them every time they entered the kitchen with the intentions of cooking. Good thing she was an observer. Looking around at the gathered occupants of the RV, as they chowed down on Kyouhei's latest masterpiece--something she guessed had a pretentious sounding name that she wouldn't even attempt to pronounce, much less fathom what it all meant. It tasted like meat, so it was safe to assume it was--It made her wonder if the food prepared by Kyouhei tasted better, not because of added ingredients, but because she was eating it at her home in the company of the only family she ever had. She supposed this was the reason she liked home cooking so much. Sei was putting her fork down delicately and wiping her mouth with a napkin. "My, Kyouhei. You outdo yourself every time." Kyouhei embarrassed scratched behind his neck, "It's French. I was messing around with the flavor in class and I thought I'd try it out on all of you." Well consider them the best-fed guinea pigs ever. "It's called Veau a la persillade." Jo didn't even know where to start on that one. She, however did feel satisfied with her observation skills. At least she had seen that coming. "It's a veal recipe for saunteed veal scallopini served with persillade, a garlic, shallot..." Blah, blah, some nonsense about the sauce and it goes great with...yeah. Jo liked home cooking, but she didn't care too much for the explanation of how that home cooking came into existence. She was just happy that it was here and she was eating it. And by the looks of it, so did Meg and Amy as they thoroughly ignored Kyouhei and continued to messily shovel in the fancy French cuisine. Jo kept her eyes a bit more than necessary on Amy and her love for home cooked meals was suddenly taking a back seat to a new, more exciting sensation, as she thought back on the last few hours. And she came to a conclusion that there was indeed something that did beat out home cooking, well other than a really good horror flick. Apparently she really liked blowjobs. Hmmm. Of course, she had known about sex before her and Meg had started going out. It didn't really intrigue her, didn't hold her fascination, or call out to her. It was just something that she believed happened between a man and woman...or a whatever, and that it was supposedly the epitome of their society. What with every billboard and practically every sign using it to advertise a product or service...or other crap. Prior to the experience of the last couple of hours, or the hot springs, or their first kiss, she had always thought sex was just something people did when they were bored and there was nothing to...buy or look at, or whatever normal people did in their spare time. So imagine her shock when she had learned otherwise, the last couple of days having proven false her skewered impression of it. It was weird. Having something backfire in her face like that. Usually when she formed an opinion on something, it was usually right. She trusted her gut, her instincts, her preservation skills. And she still trusted them. They were what kept her alive. However, right now, these self-constructed warning signals within her were battling against an invading party. Like a new pathogen introduced into an unsuspecting host, she had not expected this emotion she felt for Meg to take her over so swiftly. She imagined, maybe that it would take more time. That she needed more time. But then she remembered that these feelings had always been with her, small, so small as to not to draw her attention. They existed within her as they had lived in New York and had some definite substance by the time they moved to Japan. So she couldn't say that it was swift, not when it had been incubating within her for a year. Still. It was confusing. She felt conflicted- Not about the blowjob, mind you. Because she knew she definitely liked that. Really, if anything, it probably held first place ranking in her things to do when she wasn't shooting things. Although treacherously, now that she thought about it, shooting at things didn't seem...quite that fun now that she had been introduced to this new sensation. It should have shocked her more. It should have made her feel vulnerable. That her own actions could no longer bring her satisfaction, not like Meg could. It was like her independence was being stripped away, her hands tied up and her will tamed. It was the ultimate submission. It should have scared her and yet, she was calmly sitting her, eating Veau ah whatever and enjoying the quiet company of her teammates and now...lover. And it was bothering her that it wasn't bothering her more. That she had to force herself to be alerted by this turn of events. That she would rather, quite honestly not think about it and just enjoy the company and maybe another blowjob in the near--hopefully near--future. Weakness. This is what made humans weak. Made them reroute their desires for power and god-dom and pour all of it, fleeting emotions and strong wishes into someone they thought were special. Were worth the price of self-control and aspirations. She had never had such aspirations to begin, but she did have one wish, one desire that had always triumphed over every other small yearning in her heart. It was the desire to protect Meg. And even when she had not known of her feelings for the other girl, she had ultimately believed in this one wish. Had trained and walked along side Meg, in front of her, always shielding her and praying that when the bullets flew, it flew at her, and not Meg. These feelings she had for Meg. They made her complacent with their arrangement. They made her wish for nothing more, or nothing less. They made her forget and absentminded of things she previously had no problem remembering. As other things began to take precedence. It was slowly changing her and Jo couldn't help, but feel that even the small changes were somehow going to alter the way she handled her guns. Weakness. This was a weakness. There was no doubt about that. The affection, and the kisses, and the sweet touches were going to make her soft. Make her forget how to take a punch in the gut, or swallow the blood down when she was shot. If she weren't careful, if she was distracted, if she was weaker, then she wouldn't have a chance of protecting Meg. What the hell was she doing? "Jo, are you alright?" Meg, breaking her from her thoughts looked at her with a worried expression. "You don't look so good?" "Yeah Jo," Amy piped in, "You look kind of freaked out. What's up? You trying to sound out the name of what Kyouhei made for dinner?" "Hey!" Everybody stared at her on Amy's words. It had never occurred to her, throughout the jumble of her worries and fears that her face would show signs of what she thought about as they came to her. She had always been naturally adept at hiding her emotions--although most of the time there wasn't anything to hide because nothing really moved her--so forgetting this one facet of her personality, her ingrained training, and reflex was almost unthinkable. It was like, forgetting how to pull her trigger during a gunfight. It was like, forgetting how to operate Django. It was like, forgetting everything that made her who she was. Carelessness. Weakness. Stupid! "It's nothing." She got up, nearly dropped her plate in the process as she hurried out of the room--with uncharacteristic...clumsiness?--and made her way to her bedroom. She locked the door behind her. Feeling frustrated and stupid and a little angry at how she had handled the situation.
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