Chapter 3: An unusual Morning
For the past two months, he had been trying to talk to Rose. To reach into that dark void of sadness and make her happy. She had rejected him over and over again until he was begining to think there was no hope. He decided to stop there and was astonished when she invited him in.
He watches as she drags herself over to the sitting area, lays on the love seat, and gestures to an empty chair by her.
He gingerly sits down, sinking about a foot in the plush chair. They sit awkwardly for a moment before Rose mumbles, "I'm starving."
He jumps up, tidying his suit. "I'll make you some breakfast!" He races into the kitchen before she can protest.
Rose can't help but share a secret smile with herself as she hears him banging through the cupboards and arguing with her small microwave. She chuckles as he cries out after slipping on her bisquick mix.
"Do you even know how to cook?" She calls out.
Within a few minutes he walks out, in his hands a silver platter with a plate, a vase with a flower that she wondered how he got, and a delicte glass of orange juice. THe plate is piled high with pancakes, eggs, and sausage. He sets it on the side table and goes into the bathroom to get the flour off of himself.
She looks at the perfect breakfast in front of her in shock. Perect golden flapjacks with dipping eggs, sausage and toast. No way. She picks up the toast. Both sides buttered! She grins and takes a bite, savoring the rich flavors of salt and butter.
When he comes back out, he awkwardly stands by the door.
"Thanks." She musters. "It's really good."
He grins happily like a child on christmas. She sets the tray on the floor and looks at him.
"Where did you learn to cook? It's fabulous."
He quickly says, "Gallifrey."
Suddenly an unexpected anger flares inside of her. "I'd like you to leave now." She says calmly.
He frowns, takes a deep breath, then opens the door behind him. But before leaving, he places a small slip of paper on the table.
"If you need anything, just call me okay?"
And then he was gone.
Rose walks up to the door after he leaves and tenderly picks up the slip, reading the carefully writ numbers in black pen.
And suddenly, subconciously, against her will, she memorised the number.
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