Chicken soup is hard to make.
Two nights ago, we had gotten a call to find a spirit that was haunting the park. Neither the pouring rain nor Worth's constant profanities about not going ghost hunting deterred Hanna, so we were off, as usual. At first it was fine; the rain was warm and humid. But after a couple hours of unsuccessful searching the weather got worse and soon had us all soaked. Hanna, being Hanna, avoided my repeated attempts to give him my coat, saying I needed it. I reminded him that dead men can't get sick, but he just changed the subject and ran off, as he always did. The case did turn out a success though. The ghost was an old woman who was so afraid of death she refused to leave her favourite bench. Fortunately, it seemed the one thing she feared more than the afterlife was vampires, and one look at Conrad was enough to cause her to scream and pass over.
Conrad was despondent for the rest of the night. I couldn't say I was surprised.
By the time I got Hanna home, he'd begun to shiver, and he didn't object when I told him to go to bed clear indication of how tired he was. When he woke up in the morning, he couldn't even say hello without sneezing or coughing in the middle of it. He said a cold wasn't worth bothering Doc Worth, and that he'd just sleep it off. I had a feeling Hanna wanted to avoid another lecture about his disregard for his own safety. But even after spending most of the day curled up on his mattress, he didn't seem to get any better. So I decided to see if any of the others had an idea.
It was Toni who suggested I make Hanna chicken soup. I was unsure how to start, so Conrad, who seemed to have recovered, offered to buy the ingredients. He informed me that since he no longer needed to buy conventional food he wasn't spending as much money and had some extra. Apparently that settled the matter, and an eventful hour later found me back home with a bag of groceries in one hand and a library cookbook in the other. Toni came with me to help, mostly because I wasn't very good at tasting anymore.
I thought it wouldn't be difficult, and the cooking directions seemed straightforward, so I decided to give it a try. Boil the stock, put in chopped vegetables, and simmer. It would be easy.
By the time the carrots were cooked, the rest of the vegetables were overdone. And by the time the pieces of cooked chicken were warm, the carrots were overdone too. The finished result looked far less appetizing than anything else I had ever made. Toni insisted it tasted fine though, but her haste to leave made me wonder, a little.
As I was cleaning, Hanna woke up. He had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and his glasses were pushed high on his forehead as he rubbed his eyes.
"What are you doing, C-C-C- AHCHOO! Caesar?"
"Cooking." I told him, shrugging and taking the lid of the pot.
Immediately, his eyes lit up and he grinned. "You made me soup? Awesome!"
I doubt I will ever tire of seeing how the simplest things make Hanna so happy. He ate the soup as if it were something much better, smiling the whole time. He told me it was the best he'd had, and while that seemed to be stretching the truth a bit, perhaps it did do him some good, for shortly after he went back to sleep, and his breathing seemed less irregular than before.
I finished cleaning the kitchen before I sat down in my customary place to watch over Hanna as he slept. I couldn't help but smile when I carefully pulled his glasses off, just like I had to every night. He always forgets to take them off, and in the morning he goes to look for them, and I have to hand them to him before he tears the office apart.
Taking care of Hanna is a handful. I don't mind, but sometimes I wonder how he survived without me.