"I'm not eighty two!" Roland sighs deeply, but he's so used to their running joke that it's no longer something he lingers on anymore. He should just be lucky neither of them were ranking him up in the hundreds yet. But as he banters with Tidus, hears the amusement drawl out of the teen, Roland finds his hands already moving in muscle memory too. The butter, as soon as it gets to a good sizzle, meets a ladle of the batter. The smell wafting through the air, instant.
It's what Roland does as soon as bubbles appear on the surface of the largest disk of cooking pancake that's interesting. The ladle is swapped out for a spoon, and he begins...shaping things on the pan, with more pancake mix, or by moving the largest pancake around so that its edges bleed out into something. What, right now, one can't tell yet.
This he does while speaking, though Roland will bend a little to level at the pan, studying it like art.
"That's a surprisingly accurate image of the past, Tidus. Except for the part where I had the time to do this, because I definitely didn't." There's a wryness to that response, but Roland is still, more or less, quite jolly about it. "Truth be told, I only cooked this on Sundays when I could afford an easy morning. Will loved it. Or at least, pretended to." He chuckles.
As Roland places the larger chunks of chocolate against the wet part of the pancake, it does occur to him somewhat that this might be the reason why he could afford to talk a little bit more about the life he left behind. It felt...surprisingly, good. Freeing. Like he can breathe because someone sees him for something besides the man in charge of a country, or the second-in-command in case the king is out of commission.
(The pancakes are beginning to form...a face? Was that a snout or a nose?)
Speaking of what things were starting to look like, or what they once did - Roland straightens up and looks as if he just remembered something interesting. It's enough that he momentarily lowers the heat setting on the stove and leans back against the edge of the counter, hand beneath his chin in thought.
"Hm...What I looked like before..." Tidus, make sure that doesn't burn!!
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It's what Roland does as soon as bubbles appear on the surface of the largest disk of cooking pancake that's interesting. The ladle is swapped out for a spoon, and he begins...shaping things on the pan, with more pancake mix, or by moving the largest pancake around so that its edges bleed out into something. What, right now, one can't tell yet.
This he does while speaking, though Roland will bend a little to level at the pan, studying it like art.
"That's a surprisingly accurate image of the past, Tidus. Except for the part where I had the time to do this, because I definitely didn't." There's a wryness to that response, but Roland is still, more or less, quite jolly about it. "Truth be told, I only cooked this on Sundays when I could afford an easy morning. Will loved it. Or at least, pretended to." He chuckles.
As Roland places the larger chunks of chocolate against the wet part of the pancake, it does occur to him somewhat that this might be the reason why he could afford to talk a little bit more about the life he left behind. It felt...surprisingly, good. Freeing. Like he can breathe because someone sees him for something besides the man in charge of a country, or the second-in-command in case the king is out of commission.
(The pancakes are beginning to form...a face? Was that a snout or a nose?)
Speaking of what things were starting to look like, or what they once did - Roland straightens up and looks as if he just remembered something interesting. It's enough that he momentarily lowers the heat setting on the stove and leans back against the edge of the counter, hand beneath his chin in thought.
"Hm...What I looked like before..." Tidus, make sure that doesn't burn!!