Reasons Why

The young woman hadn't noticed that Chris had awoken, focusing on stirring the pot of noodles while the sauce simmered. She moved to grab the handle, but missed. She hissed and pulled her hand back quickly. The skin was turning red, a small blister forming on her palm. "Shit!" Monica cussed under her breath, quickly running cold water over her hand to try and soothe the pain. Knowing she couldn't leave the food alone, she grabbed a small washcloth, soaked it in the freezing water, and wrapped it around her burnt hand. Luckily the noodles and sauce were practically ready, so she turned off the stove and moved the two pans. Rolling over to the living room, Monica was surprised to find Chris awake. "You're awake." She stated, feeling a bit of awkwardness perforating the room. "I made some noodles... I hope you don't mind."
 
"Heh. Mi casa es su casa." Chris said with a nearly flawless Spanish accent. "Yeah. It's fine." Christopher got up from the couch and stretched out, a yawn escaping from him as he did. Do I have anything going on today? I don't think I do.....I shouldn't..... I don't have to go into work until tomorrow's night shift. Huh. I have the whole day here. The hell should I do? Chris thought about it for a minute and decided that he didn't have anything that he particularly wanted to do that day. On his days off his normally just stayed in unless there was a specific reason to go out.
 
((Oh God, I am so, so sorry! I thought I already replied to this! I must have accidently not pressed the reply button. Again, I'm super sorry!))

Monica felt quite a bit of envy seeing him stretch out after sleeping on the couch. However, she quickly squashed it down in favor of rolling back to the kitchen. She looked through the drawers before finding a ladle and something to spoon out the noodles with. Taking note of the amount of noodles, she frowned slightly before glancing back at her host. Sighing, she turned with a bit of effort back to the cop. "Would... Would you like some? I made a bit more than I had planned, and I don't want to waste your food." Embarrassment quickly flooded her veins. She wasn't sure how exactly to act around this man who had stopped her fall.
 
((It's cool. Don't worry about it :3.))

Christopher walked over towards the kitchen, stopping near the sink. The sink was about three feet away from the stove. He leaned against the countertop and looked at the food with a smile coming across his face. "Yeah. Sure. It definitely beats re-heated leftover pizza." Chris said with a grimace. Shit. I just realized. I have to buy groceries today. It's probably best to stock up on food and supplies to make food with now that I have someone living here.
 
Monica nodded and moved to try and find some plates. They weren't in any of the cabinets below, so they had to be above. The woman sighed as she moved to look through the different cabinets, just barely reaching the cabinets to open them. Finally, she found the plates, but they were out of her reach. She frowned, moving instead to grab some silverware and set it on the table before reaching again toward the plates. The brunette pushed herself off of her chair slightly to try and reach the plates, just barely managing to grab two. Carefully pulling them toward her chest, she made sure that only the two were pulled out before closing the cupboards and setting them on the table.
 
Christopher contemplated exteding a hand out to Monica to help her, but he quickly decided against it as she was determined to get it for herself and was wary of damaging her pride. "You don't have to do everything yourself, you know." Christopher had a half-frown of sympathy appear on his face, but quickly forced it away. "Anyway. I'll get the drinks. Want a soda or water?" He asked as he made his way over to the refrigerator, grabbing himself a can of Sprite and setting it down onto the countertop behind himself.
 
"If I can't do everything myself then how useful am I really?" Monica asked as she set the plates down on the table. At his question, she answered, "Water, please." She had never drunk soda. It was too unhealthy, and she needed to be at her top fitness for-no she wouldn't say it. She couldn't after the accident. Taking a couple pot holders she found in the drawers, Monica set them down on the table before moving the noodles and sauce. Her movements were mechanical, as if she wasn't all there. It seemed like she was just going through the motions, spooning a small amount of noodles onto her own plate.
 
Christopher nodded and went over to his cabinets and grabbed a glass. He filled it roughly halfway with ice and then filled it with filtered water from the refrigerator. He grabbed both drinks and then placed the water next to Monica's plate. Christopher began to spoon noodles onto his plate and then proceeded to cover it in sauce.
 
Monica hated the silence. She knew she should have preferred it, giving her a chance to separate herself from the man and get him to leave her the hell alone, but a nagging feeling of debt stopped her. She was unsure how to approach the policeman before her, watching as he filled his plate before filling her own. She had never been good at making small talk. It was why interviews always went so well for the interviewer. She would get straight into the deep serious topics. The silence threatened to suffocate her as she finished filling her own plate and moved a chair out of the way so she could properly sit at the table.
 
Chris felt strange at the table. He could tell the silence was bothering her for it was bothering him as well. What the hell should I say? The thought pounded in his head before a brief shaking to force the thought away. He began to eat away at the food before him, rather hungry from the previous day of little eating. After a few bites, he wiped his mouth and smiled at Monica. "This is really good." He complimented and then continued eating.
 
"Thanks." Damn it, this was awkward. Monica didn't know what to say. She could ask him questions? Yes, that would break the silence. Slowly, she glanced up at Chris before looking back down at her plate. "Have you ever seen a dance?" She asked, then felt her heart break a little at the word. "A professional one, I mean. Like Swan Lake or something similar." Why was she asking him this? Monica was just raking up more dirt and unwanted feelings with this topic. However, anything was better than going back to the silence.
 
"Yeah. No problem." Chris smiled, finishing off the rest of his food and taking it to the sink, running warm water over it. He didn't want to be rude so he sat back down at the table. "No. I haven't, actually. I was never too huge on dancing. Why do you ask?" Talking about dancing surely wasn't something that was a normal topic of discussion, so he figured there had to be a deeper meaning as to why she had asked.
 
Monica felt a bit of disappointment at the man's answer. She should have expected it, she supposed. "It's nothing. Just a bit curious." She picked at her food before answering again. "I used to go see dancing at times." See them? She thought. She was the dance many a time. The stage's warm light dancing across her skin as she twirled and leapt, personifying emotions, people, events through a flick of the wrist or a swift kick. The young woman shouldn't have been talking about the painful subject, but it tore at her heart to just forget the most important part of her life.
 
"Ah. I see. So you like dancing? That's interesting. I've just never been a huge fan of crowd related situations. It's a claustrophobia issue of mine." Chris cleared his throat and rubbed his temples, suddenly feeling a slight headache. "But uh. I gotta get groceries today. Do you need anything? I don't mind."
 
Monica shook her head. "Though, I could get you a discount on your groceries if I went with you." She finished her food and did as Chris did with his plate. Slowly, she rolled her wheelchair away from the man. Anything to help him, though she dreaded seeing her coworkers' faces. She hoped that they hadn't found the note she left them. That would be a whole mess she didn't want to deal with.
 
"Yeah? That'd be great. Plus you can help me pick things out that you might want for cooking. Since uh, I've been single for the longest, and I don't know how to cook, I wouldn't know exactly what to buy." Chris said with an expression of both sudden-clarity and confusion all in the same moment. It hadn't really dawned on him that he had been single for so long, but it had been roughly two years since he'd had anything too serious.
 
Monica raised an eyebrow at his whole single comment. She assumed he didn't have someone in his life since he lived all alone, but to not know hot to cook after being single for so long. "I can't really make much so I'm sure it'll probably be similar to what you get." Though, she supposed it depended on the budget that the man had. Healthy food was always really expensive. She started toward the door, waiting for Chris when she got to it. He'd have to help her into and out of the car again, but she would be okay with that. Now, just how to plan to avoid her coworkers.
 
"I'm going to need a shower. I didn't have the chance to get one before I fell asleep last night." Christopher went upstairs to his room and grabbed a change of clothes, and then proceeded into the bathroom. After his rather quick shower, he change into a black t-shirt and a pair of darker-colored jeans. He quickly gathered a few necessities, such as his handgun, his cellphone, and his wallet. Christopher always went into public armed. Always. The Sheriff had specifically told all of the deputies, including Chris, to always be armed whether on patrol or not. He let his shirt tail hang over his pockets, making it infinitely harder to even realize that he was armed. After going downstairs, he did one final mental checklist before deciding that he was ready.
 
Monica nodded before glancing at the time. 10:17 A.M. It was still rather early in the morning. She supposed it had been too early for the noodles, however it was one of the few things the man had that wasn't instant meals. She shook her head, running a hand through her hair before following the man out. She supposed that he meant when he fell asleep earlier that morning, but the man did work night shifts. For all she knew, this could be his 'night'. She followed him out to the car before waiting by the car door.
 
Chris walked over to his car, holding the door open for Monica. "Here we go..." Chris smiled and waited for Monica to get to him. As he propped the door open with his leg, he shifted around the wheelchair awkwardly, attempting to help Monica get inside of the car and into the passenger seat.