Seek not the darkness, Jil. Please. Don’t run for the safety of walking unseen. Masks shatter, armor crumbles, and no Lantern is here to light the path, but there is another light, here. Can you feel it? Not the piercing, steady rays of the sun, but a flickering, gentle warmth; pouring out of his heart, shining through his earnest smile. For you. For this moment. 

“It’s good, right?” There is a skipping, easy dance to his motions, even constrained to a chair. His shoulders bounce in time with the last few stirs, and he pours out the precious mixture in a proper serving bowl. “What’s nice about dulce de leche is that you can have it so many ways.” Flit, flit, flit to the small bowls of seemingly random ingredients he had her fetch earlier, dropping a spoon in each one and pushing them to their rightful place. Fruits and bits of chocolate and snappy sugary crackers and whipped cream, to name just a few. “I like it with something a little crunchy, to vary the texture, but go on. See what you like. I’ll make us some crepes.” A drizzle, a swirl, and in goes the batter into the waiting pan.

Let your tears be what they may. Compliment, tragedy, vulnerability, weakness, we can figure that out later. The food is hot, fresh, and plentiful. The company small, but happy to have you. There is a world outside this room, but not a world so pressing that it can’t wait a while longer. There is a seat for you. There is a seat for him.

Won’t you join him for dinner?