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[asoncalledgabriel]

Gabriel finds himself at Greta's house. It's partly because she's invited him over - she says she needs people to sample things and he does like her baking. Things have been strange and rocky with Neil, and he feels like that's his fault as much as anything, but he has no idea how to change or fix it. Neil seems intent on punishing himself.

He lets himself into the house after getting a text from Greta saying to do just that. He follows the general sound of movement and the smell of baking things to the kitchen.

"I'm here, Greta," he calls so she wouldn't be too startled when he appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

Comments

[asoncalledgabriel]

Gabriel looks down at his hands and he tries not to fidget too much with the edge of his shirt. He itches for a cigarette but he doesn't ask if he can smoke: he doesn't want Greta's house to smell like it.

"So people keep telling me," he says with a sad sort of smile. "I-- I know it, in my head. I understand what everyone tells me. But it's so hard to let it sink all the way down. Or even if I feel good about something, the bad comes crashing back in before too long. I wish I could forget it entirely. I wish I could have completely started over here."

[andhiswife]

He's fidgeting in his seat in a manner that makes her feel like climbing the walls in sympathy, and she shakes her head. "Here, come scrub in. You can help me bully this dough into shape." If he's wanting for something to do with his hands, she can at least offer some honest labor in that regard.

"Mind all the wishes," she adds wryly. "They're never as straightforward as you want them to be, even when they come true. Especially when they come true."

[asoncalledgabriel]

Gabriel gets up at her order, and he finds himself feeling deep relief for something to do, something rather mundane and familiar to focus on. He washes up in the sink while he listens to Greta and then joins her out the counter so he can help work the dough.

He offers a dry smile when she mentions the wishes. "Well, until I came here I thought leprechauns were only things my grandmother believed in," he confesses. "She used to leave out milk, you know. Or a little bit of cheese or a saucer of beer. I always thought she was a bit mad, but she said it was for the fairies and that it was a good thing to do."