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"I can explain it later."
"You don't understand," he said with a sigh. "It's like trying to describe a completely new primary color. He can't handle it."
"You should be. It's my one skill."
"I think you do understand," she said quietly. "But you're going to have to wait. Sariel's sleeping right there."
"He wasn't raised to feel love as a valid emotion. He was never loved. It's like if someone asked you to feel Elypto. How would you even begin?"
"No, there are oatmeal masters," he insisted. "And I have taught all of them."
"That's what it sounds like."
"You realize you've married one of your machines, right, Aspen? I warned you about this. You're going to get hurt; he can't love you."
"Oatmeal is an art form."
She squinted at him, one eyebrow raising skeptically. "Are you waiting for an invitiation?"
"Three days," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I warned you, Aspen. I warned you. What are you gonna do now, huh?"
He was scooping out more oatmeal and brought over to the table some brown sugar and syrup and nuts and dried fruits.
"Oh. I'm not sure. I was going to take a shower before Sariel wakes up."
He said nothing for a long moment, studying her intensely. "How long?"
"Thank you. I'm relieved."
She looked down at herself curiously. "I am up."
He was looking down at her quietly, emotions in his gaze that were hard to read. Surprisingly, the predominant emotion was sadness.
"Yeah. I gotta prepare it still. Don't eat, yet."
"I told you," she said, running her fingers through Warner's hair idly. "It's nice, right?"
A shadow passed over the den, and there was a silence as Eli's eyes rested on the two of him in the dark.
