"Alexa, find me a decent pancake recipe"
It had been forever since she had last prepared a meal herself. But she used to make pretty delicious pancakes and due to the lack of other ingredients, she was left with only one meal choice. Pancakes.
Ever since the five/nine hack and the resulting economic crisis, it had been hard to find restaurants or other eating places, which still delivered food. She had lost track of those places who were still affordable and of the various payment methods and which of them were save and which of them not so much.
She had always been capable of adapting quickly to new situations and didn't need much luxury and convenience and so by now she had almost got used to the new circumstances the hack had brought along. Nevertheless she had the disquieting, unsettling feeling, that this was just the beginning and that society and economy were on the brink of a game-changing war.
She was just about to artistically flip another pancake in the air, when she heard Angela's soft, barefooted steps behind her. She turned around with the pan in her hand to find an extremely different looking Angela standing shyly at the door, obviously being at a loss of what to do next. Dom felt her heart heavy in her chest, when she realized once again that the very person standing in front of her, looking so innocent and pure and youthful was in so much trouble and probably was a very relevant piece of the puzzle, essential to the case.
Then and there she decided that for now, it was just going to be Angela, a girl in need - and herself, Dom, a helpful, friendly stranger, making pancakes - nothing more. That Angela, to her, actually did not seem like a stranger at all did not make matters easier. For months she had been following her and watching her, getting to know her, trying to understand her, trying to get into her skin. And unfortunately, despite the suspicious things Angela had gotten into, Dom liked what she saw.
She skillfully flipped the pancake in the air and caught it again with ease. When she saw a soft smile form around Angela's mouth, she smiled back at her and for the first time in a very long time she knew she wanted to be able to just let things happen without over analyzing everything. She knew she could afford it, there would come no harm from a quiet, peaceful meal with a young woman who just happened to be involved in what was probably the crime of the century and who chose her, of all people, to go to help for. She was not wholly convinced by her own attempts to justify her behavior, but convinced enough to be able to shut out reason and professional conscience for a while.
Without her heels Angela was a couple of inches shorter than Dom and now was stepping on Dom's sweatpants' legs, which were actually even too long, for herself. Without makeup and with her lose blond locks framing her soft features she lost the rigor and stern poise she usually carried herself around with. Her face was flushed and her eyes were glimmering in the dim light of the young woman radiated such natural beauty and genuineness, Dom was barely able to keep her eyes off of her. She still seemed burdened and weighed down by sorrow and pain, but at the same time she appeared to move more freely and to allow herself to feel grief and to accept solace.
They sat opposite each other at the little kitchen table, eating silently. Dom was eating, Angela was more or less just picking at her food. But Dom was not offended, she knew how grief could take away one's appetite.
She scrutinized Angela, who was shoving her food around her plate, still in awe at how different she looked.
When she noticed she was being observed, Angela blushed and said:" I'm sorry, it's just…I can't get anything down…". "Don't worry!", Dom replied appreciatively, "I understand".
"You look so different" she then blurted out impulsively, just because she did not know what else to say. After all she was not used to having company, other than co-workers, with whom she usually just talked about work. Angela smiled unfathomably and then seemed to drift off into her own world again. Dom already thought that that was all she would contribute to the conversation, when Angela very softly spoke again: "It's all just costumes, you know?". She sounded almost bitter. But she smiled again and went on speaking: "Can you imagine, I used to be a tomboy growing up, not giving a damn about what to wear and how to dress". Dom smiled, trying to picture a young Angela in shorts and a baseball cap, with scuffed knees and grubby fingers. "Not a care in the world" the grown up Angela mumbled, smiling sadly and Dom hardly dared to comment because this moment seemed so intimate and she did not want to intrude her private memories. "We would have gotten along pretty well", she then answered and smiled at her. Angela locked eyes with her, slightly smiled back at her, reached out her hand and gently put it on top of Dom's, holding her gaze for what seemed like an eternity and then said:" Thank you!" and: " I think I am ready for that whiskey now"
The hand that was now pouring whiskey into two glasses, was still tingling, from where Angela had just touched her. But she held her hand steady and confidently handed one of the glasses to the woman responsible for her confusing condition. They silently drank from their glasses and Dom was relieved by the instant soothing effect of the alcohol. They had moved back to the couch and Angela now sank into the cushions and pillows looking as tired and worn out as ever. She chugged down her drink, weakly dropped the hand holding the empty glass into her lap and closed her eyes. "I'm gonna let you get some rest", Dom said and was about to get up, when Angela suddenly reached out for her hand and pulled her back in panic. "Please stay", she simply said, but her eyes spoke volumes. She was too scared to be left alone, left alone with her thoughts, her memories, her emptiness, her pain. "Ok, it's ok. I won't go anywhere" Dom conceded and let herself fall back next to Angela. She was still holding on tight to Dom's hand, but when Dom moved closer to her, she lay her head down on her shoulder, closed her eyes again and finally calmed down. She did not let go off her hand, her grip just loosened and her fingers, all tangled up in Dom's, finally grew warm.