AL happily sits down to write, buoyed by the reviews she has received.

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"What?" she asked, lifting her chin a bit so she could stare him in the eye. "Do you have a problem?"

He shrugged, then backed off a pace. "The bed was in the way," he said simply.

"It's my bed and my room. If you don't like it, leave." She stalked around the foot of the bed and opened the doors to the armoire. She grabbed the first two pillows and tossed them in, but Knives grabbed the third one and held it out of her reach.

"Stop it," she demanded, holding her hand out. "I'm trying to pick things up." She snapped her fingers impatiently.

"What was the last thing you ate?" he asked, handing the pillow over.

"I don't know," she said into the armoire.

"Did you eat anything today?"

"Sure."

"What?"

"What do you care?"

"Well, if you don't take at least some semblance of care of yourself, what was the point of healing you?"

"I don't know; what was the point? I'm a grown-up; I can take care of myself, eat when I'm hungry, bathe when I'm dirty, and do all those other fun adult things like-- Hey! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go make you dinner."

"I'm not hungry!"

"Funny. You were always hungry before."

"I'm not hungry now," she repeated, disgruntled. She threw herself down on the bed, head resting on her favorite pillow, feet pointing towards the ceiling, arms crossed over her chest. "Not that you care to listen to me. I bet you're going to blow up my kitchen, and then I'll never get my deposit back." Her scowl deepened. She was willing to wager that he didn't even know how to cook. Yeah, she would probably get to try to choke down some half-burnt, half-raw meal and act like it was gourmet. Or he would get all pissy and blow up the city, and then blame it all on her. Yeah, everything was her fault. Blame Kiley, she's always wrong.

She turned over and punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape. Maybe she could fall asleep before he finished cooking, and maybe he wouldn't wake her up. No, with her luck she would fall asleep and then he would wake her up, and then she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again and would spend the entire night awake and have to go into work tomorrow like a zombie.

She closed her eyes tightly. It wasn't fair. She wasn't ready for this. She hadn't had enough time acting like a normal human being, hadn't…. She didn't want to walk in to work tomorrow and feel everyone's eyes upon her, seeing her as some freak. As a monster. Like she had ever done anything the entire time that she worked there, like she would have if they hadn't started things by threatening Ace. And Meryl. But would they look at it that way? No. Of course not.

Because she had possessed the gall to work there to try to better the lot of plants and humans, of course she was a monster. An evil, horrid, killer one, to boot. She sighed and bit back a sniff that threatened tears.

Well, who cares what they think? she reminded herself. They can just believe what they want. I know I'm not a monster, and really, who cares about them.

Aside from me.

But I only care because I'm weak, because I need the approval of others to validate my existence. I can go in there tomorrow, face the stares and whispers, because they mean nothing. They mean less than nothing, less than the sound of wind through the tress.

Right, the sarcastic portion of her soul chimed in. Who do you think you're fooling?

She sighed again and tried to think of something happier, something that wouldn't give her nightmares if she managed to fall asleep. Something like, um… hmm. Her mind stayed stuck in the rut of what ifs and worrying about tomorrow. What if they tried to kill her, and other people got hurt? They would likely blame her for that, too. Unless she stood there and just took the beating, anything that happened to anyone would be her fault.

The smell of something yummy wafted in the room, and her traitor stomach growled. She tried to ignore it, but once awakened, her hunger could not be denied. After a few minutes of fruitless arguing with her appetite, she rolled off the bed and into the kitchen.

"What are you making?" she asked as she moved to stand next to Knives at the counter.

"Omelet."

"But it smells good," she protested.

"What, did you think I didn't know how to cook?" he asked, shooting a piecing look her way.

She shrugged.

"I'll have you know that I am a very good cook. If you think I would let something as integral as a meal be messed up by a human, you are sadly mistaken. I nearly always cook when I'm not in my ship."

"Oh." She narrowed her eyes. "I cook, too, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm any good."

"I'm a plant," he said loftily. "Of course I am a superior chef."

"I'm a plant, too, and I suck at cooking," she pointed out.

"Then maybe I should teach you how."

"Is that an offer?"

"If I stick around long enough. Otherwise I'll be the one stuck cooking all the time. Trust me; you don't want to eat Vash's cooking."

"Guess I'll have to take a rain check on that lesson, then."

"Oh, I'm sure we can fit one or two in before I leave."

"Yippie."

He slid the omelet onto a plate and passed it to her. She blew on it as she fished in a drawer for a fork, then attacked the meal. Knives watched, bemused, as it disappeared in under a minute.

"Ow," she commented when she was done. "That was hot."

"Want another?"

She passed the plate back and he grinned.

"I knew you were hungry," he pointed out unnecessarily.

She stuck her tongue out and he laughed before turning to break a few eggs.