Grabbing eggs, onions, snow peas, and a package of barbecued pork from the fridge — probably an impulse buy in the middle of Kotetsu's drunkenness, and proof that he has sound judgment even when compromised — Kotetsu kicks the refrigerator door shut behind him and lays out the ingredients on the counter.

"You can wash the rice," Kotetsu says cheekily, wondering if Barnaby protest. If there's anything that promises to teach Barnaby next to nothing about making fried rice, it's washing the rice.

Then again, it's also the safest part of the process. One that Kotetsu can't imagine Barnaby messing up.

"Or wash the..." Looking up, Kotetsu pauses. "Bunny, are you blushing? You've never cooked with someone in the kitchen, have you? I know you said you hadn't been dating this past year, but surely you had some girls who tried to get close during home ec."

Kotetsu starts walking the perimeter of the kitchen, tugging open every drawer he encounters. Looking for the right utensils.