Torsten had a lot to thank doctors for. Especially German ones in Afghanistan, but that was besides the point. His eyebrows disappeared in his shock of black hair at her admitting to going into emergency surgery. "There is not enough room in this cabin for your brains, I think," he told her with a smile upon his lips. He sat there, trying to finish his stew. He figured she would want some rest, so he did not want to pester her for the rest of the night. Especially since she might want to balk at the time he wanted to leave. Most people were not early risers like he was. He was appreciative of her presence. It felt warming to be able to 'care' for someone. To tell the truth, it had been something that he had missed. Granted, it felt different from caring for soldiers he had been responsible for. There was less heartache in this.

He had finished his stew by the time she asked if he liked 'it.' He nodded his head sagely, "Of course. I am good cook," he replied, mistaking her question as to whether or not he liked the stew. Well, of course he did. He made it. It was a few moments, before the hamsters in his head started to turn the wheels. [i]Oh.[/i] He nearly jumped at the realization. "Oh! Oh! You meant my job, [i]Kyllä?[/i] I like it. It isn't very stressful. Go out in the mornings and track bear. Greet tourists. Read books. It is a rewarding life. It does get lonely, though." He frowned, before his smile opted to return. There was no need for pity under his cabin. 

He waited until she finished, helpfully taking the bowl from her and taking it to the sink. Like most things in his cabin, the soap was not modern. It was lye soap he had purchased from the same Amish they would meet tomorrow. The stuff was rough on the hands, but Torsten's was already calloused and rough from a life of labor and hardship. "The bears do not come close to the cabin," he replied to her, setting the dishes back into their respective cabinet. He was drying his hands by the time he opened the chest next to his bed. He retrieved a small [url=http://www.hansenguns.com/JJ/M1849n1.gif]box[/url] from within. He withdrew a small, archaic revolver from within. It was unlike the hammerless wonders that currently existed. It was old, with a patina to the barrel and a roughness to the hickory grip. He placed it behind his waist, wedging it between belt and trousers. 

There was something about the night that worried him. Not that he was [i]certain[/i] that danger was nearby, but that he felt it. As odd as it might sound, he felt more secure in being outside the house. Dangers to himself wouldn't expect him to be outside waiting for him. That, coupled with the fact that his upbringing made him think it would be 'inappropriate' for the two to share a room forced him to choose the wild night to spending the night in the cabin with Allison. He grabbed a rolled hammock from his wardrobe, before shaking his head, "It would be bad to spend the night in the same room. It is... [i]sopimaton[/i]?" He couldn't quite find the word for it. He motioned with his hand, "There is shower in small room beside bed. You can use it in the morning. I will wake you by knocking the door -- we will be leaving right at five, so be ready to be up by four."

He turned, going out through the front door. He turned the lock, sticking his head in long enough to say, "Please, sleep tight. I will make sure you are at your new apartment tomorrow. [i]Hyvää yötä.[/i]" He closed the door behind him.