Gabriel munched on a pickle while making dinner. He was fairly alright at making food, but he was best at making soup. So that's what he was doing, using some potatoes, canned cream of chicken soup, and what greens he could find. He hoped they would like it, very suddenly eager to impress. Gabriel didn't know how much they ate, so he planned on making at least eight servings. He splashed a little pepper into the hot soup while wondering if they were allergic to anything. Hopefully not. Gabe smiled to himself, he was no longer on the streets. All it took was an apocalypse. 

A few minutes later he was finished.  He capped the large pot, closed the pickle jar, adorned oven mitts, and carried out the soup into the mackshift dining area. 

He called out, "Food is done!" and took off his mitts and set them on the table. He had set out three bowls and spoons, definitely not expecting another. 

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