You probably figured it out by now, but Halsey did most of the cooking around the farmstead. Not that the other Spartans didn't know how to, but she really didn't trust their cooking, especially not after Will decided to eat rancid meat he found in a barn the first day they were out here. Fortunately enough, Spark(although not designed for it) was more than capable, and indeed willing to act as the manservant for them all, including when it came to cooking.

Plus, the Spartans were messy. Really messy. So messy that she didn't trust them not to make a mess in the process of cooking.

Spark, though, was the perfect picture of grace.

The Forerunner construct hovered in, an apron draped around his chassis as a dish floated in front of him in an invisible beam.

Spark hummed a jaunty little tune as he glided over to the table, sitting the dish down in front of the assembly of Spartans, the third one, making it enough for them to all get their fill.

Something dinged from the kitchen, and Spark raised by a few inches. "Oh, that will be the dessert! I will tend to the final preparations, please, enjoy your infusions!"

John blinked, watching as Spark went back into the kitchen. "I feel so guilty." He leaned over to Cortana, whispering.

"Just eat your dinner, hon." She patted his leg, and his eyebrows shot up.

"'Hon?'" John repeated the word, sounding a slight mix of confused and affronted. "'Hon?' 'HON!?'"

Cortana rolled her eyes. "Then what do you want me to call you, hm? Babe? Sweetheart? Moron?"

"…hon works."

Kelly snickered, trying to keep it down.

"Something funny?" John raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry, just," Kelly pointed, "It just now occurred to me: You are completely whipped!"

John frowned. "No I'm not."

Cortana smiled, patting his arm, leaning on him. "Keep telling yourself that."

"…I'm not even aware what that means."

At one of the other many, many tables, Mike sat across from Sheila, bending back a plastic spoon. The girl held her mouth open, before Mike released the spoon, sending a portion of food hurtling toward her that landed on the table.

"Damn it," Mike cursed, looking down at the utensil. "The hell is with these weak-ass spoons anyway? They're no-break, so they should be bendy as shit!"

Sheila shook her head, grabbing her own spoon. "You're just too weak. Watch." She pulled the spoon back, before letting it go, the glob of food hitting Mike in the face.

"That's… great, thanks." Mike dabbed it away, before he took his own spoon, but instead of trying the 'catapult' maneuver, he elected to simply fling it back at her.

Sheila was, well, not totally brain-dead, and saw the retaliation coming from a mile away, giving herself ample time to duck as the projectile went whizzing by, and hit someone else in the back of the head.

The Spartan it hit turned around, revealing himself to be Jai.

"Oh, son of a bitch." Mike muttered, as Sheila turned around, paling.

The psychopath's eyes blazed red with fury, as his hand went down into his food, and he wound up for a throw.

Halsey poked at her food with a fork, assessing the taste of Spark's cooking. "Hmm… could use a bit more pepper-"

"FOOD FIGHT!" One of the Spartans bellowed, and Halsey paled, as the air became filled with edible materials flying on arcs toward targets.

Halsey's eyes widened as she quickly ducked out of the way, still operating a little bit… quickly, as she hid under the table.

She looked around, hearing the sounds, and she breathed, calming herself.

"It's okay, Catherine, you knew this day would come." She took a deep, calming breath, nodding to herself. "This was a risk every time we've eaten dinner, you've prepared for it." Her resolve grew, and she hit a button cleverly disguised as a tile in the floor. In response, another section of the floor opened, revealing what looked like a t-shirt cannon and a pair of goggles on a rack that slid out of the floor.

"…it occurs to me that I could have simply made a trapdoor." She frowned in realization. "Ah, whatever." She put the goggles on, and grabbed the cannon, popping back up over the table like a gopher. The woman took her plate, scraped all of the food into the gun's chamber, and pulled the charging handle back, listening to the whirr of a pneumatic number. "Oh, I love science."

"Figures," Kelly grumbled, quickly dodging. Despite all the flying globs of food, she hadn't been hit yet, thanks to her swiftness, "All a girl asks for is a nice meal, and this is what happens!"

"I think it's great!" Fred laughed. "I've always wanted to be in a food fight! Jerrod, you listening buddy!?"

The micro-AI, who had been installed into a computer network strung through it by Halsey, sighed. "Yes, Fred."

"I've got the perfect song for this!" Fred cackled, nailing Jerome from across the room. "The Ballroom Blitz by Sweet! Play it!"

"My apologies," Jerrod replied, sounding not at all sorry, "But I can't play that at the moment due to a note telling me that retro music is, and I quote: 'Lame.'"

"Oh, now that's some bullshit!" Fred huffed, "Ah!"

Halsey, still probably quite mad from what she did to herself, or because the Spartans' troublemaking skills rubbed off on her, let out a war cry as she jumped across tables, shooting food out of her cannon at the warring kids. She laughed, "Who needs corporal punishment when you have a food cannon!?"

John and Cortana, hiding under a table, looked to each other, thoroughly unamused.

"Well…" Cortana munched on her plate that she just barely managed to salvage. "What now?"

"…Wanna kiss?" John suggested with that shit-eating grin of his, and she rolled her eyes.

"Not exactly as romantic as a fire pit in the middle of the woods here, John." Cortana mumbled, but nevertheless blushed. She looked up, hearing the thunderous footsteps as Halsey ran across. "Poor woman's finally broke…" She solemnly shook her head, looking to John. "So, when do you think they'll stop?"

John looked at his wrist, before he remembered he didn't own a watch, and watches fell out of favor centuries ago. Still, he looked back to her, confident. "…couple of seconds?"

Cortana frowned. "What makes you say tha-"

"What in the name of the Precursors is going on here!?" Spark bellowed, horrified.

Cortana suddenly made a face of realization, nodding. "Ah, right, that."

"…dinner." Halsey answered after a moment.

"This is most-" Spark suddenly spluttered. "My casing! Do you mean to ruin my finish!?" He hollered as the fight picked back up again.

"Oh." John frowned. "I didn't consider the 'let's keep fighting' scenario."

Cortana sighed, shaking her head. "I had that one pegged ages ago."

John sighed too, knowing it could be a while. He turned to Cortana. "…you sure you don't wanna kiss?"

"No!"

"…no you don't, or no you aren't sure?"

"John, if you don't shut your mouth, I will push you out into that food fight."