Fray-Adjacent

Xander's cooking. Real cooking, not even pasta. Cooking with meat and veggies and something that passes for gravy. It's not really taking his mind off what he learned today, but it's letting him concentrate on something with set steps, instructions he has to follow. It's almost like work in that respect but he's less familiar with the process, and that helps today. Lets him only dwell on it in slow minutes while he's waiting for the potatoes to boil, how easy it is to take it for granted, even now. What he got back, the chance to spend time with with people he cares about, people he thought he'd lost. People - or at least one person - that he really needs to talk to, now.
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[OOC: For Bridge. SP'd for great work-and-cleaning-parents'-house-ness]

Apparently the weekend -- exits and entrances, expected parties and unexpected reappearances, applause and explosions, and... brunch, as you do -- had finally caught up with Xander, because he was nursing one of those hide-behind-the-eyepatch headaches. He'd already taken something for it, but that was just keeping the dull throb from creeping out into the rest of his head.
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[OOC: for someone with a festive umbrella. No, not you, Jamie.]

Xander rolled out of bed this morning completely unaware of any weirdness of the day, though it being Fandom he was sure there was some, somewhere. He wasn't really trying to guess what, though; instead he was pondering (by way of hands-on experimentation) one of life's eternal questions: is it really evil to cheat at pancakes? Does making the batter yourself make them taste better?
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[OOC: Stupid timezones. There's a morning thread for a specific weeperson, and an afternoon thread open for anybody else who might have reason to toddle by.]