Chương 2: Chapter 2
The groggy nature of mornings was something he would never get adjusted to. Five in the morning, the world was asleep and the atmosphere reflected that. It was like a pixie from a fantasy game that flew all over the place and left behind sleeping powder.
Yawning, Owen walked like a zombie as he headed to the kitchen. Ordinarily, he would have washed his face but not today. He had two more hours till his alarm clock rang. Two more hours till he officially had to wake up and take a shower. He was going to grab something to eat and then go right back to sleep and get back those precious two hours.
Through the grogginess, he saw a light coming from the kitchen. He blinked twice, shaking himself from his sleepy stupor, and stealthily checked who was responsible.
The fridge was fully open and blocked by wagging hips topped off by a flailing golden tail. Owen smiled to himself and tip-toed his way over. He heard humming and mutters of, "Oh, right there."
"Whatcha doing, Ophelia?"
The woman in question looked like a raccoon caught rummaging through trash. Owen was hovering over her, an arm on the fridge door, and she peered up to see his cheeky smile. Wearing a golden retriever onesie with a hoodie, she tried to hide herself in said hoodie.
"W-well, you know, I, uh…" In her hands was a mayonnaise container, lettuce, and tomatoes. "Burger," Ophelia mumbled.
He chuckled and plucked out the jar of pickles. "You want help?"
"Oh!" Her head snapped up at him, her blue eyes becoming starry. "Yes, please!"
Having a burger at five in the morning was strange but he would never reprimand her for it. 'If you have nothing to say, say something. No, wait, say something nice and you'll say nothing.' He blinked. 'That's not how it goes.
Chalk it up to five o'clock drowsiness because his ass was not able to think. He dragged himself to the kitchen counter, yawning and groaning quietly all the way. There was no time for taking out the cutting board or intricate cutting techniques. He got out one of those large-sized plates and decided that was good enough.
"Now, we can't be too loud. Everyone else is sleeping," Owen instructed.
"Yes, sir!" Ophelia realized her mistake, slapped her hands over mouth, and repeated in a lower tone, "Yes, sir…"
"You cut the pickles, I cut the tomatoes. You cook the patty, I do the mayonnaise and mustard. Does that work for you?"
"Yes, sir! I-I mean, yeah…"
An echo lingered in the kitchen space and Ophelia visibly winced. Owen snickered and opened up the jar. Inside were long pickles which Ophelia had to take out with the pointy end of the knife. First attempt, fail. Second attempt, also fail. She did several additional stabs and none of them pierced the large pickled targets.
"Okay, okay, wait, I can do this." Her tongue lay on her upper lip as she focused. "Okay, okay…got it! Yes!"
At long last, she was able to stab a pickle. Giggling, she pulled the knife back, only for the pickle to slip out. Her jaw dropped. "W-w-what? That's not…"
The jar of pickles was submerged in liquid so of course it was super slippery. However, Owen didn't recall it being this difficult. Either the jar this time around was super wet for no reason or Ophelia had no talent in the art of picking pickles.
"Do you need help?"
She hung her head. "Yes, please…"
He angled the jar towards himself and decided to just pick it out with his hands. Ophelia's jaw dropped again.
"T-that's not fair! Oh, wait, this isn't a game…"
As always, she got a good laugh out of him. From then on, making the burger was smooth sailing.
"Ow! Tomato juice went into my eye."
"The tomato is supposed to rip like that, right?"
"Um, Owen? How much lettuce should I put on the burger?"
"You said ten minutes in the air fry? Wait, no? Doesn't everything cook in the airfryer though?"
The tomatoes were rapidly cut (by Owen), the pickles were cut (by Owen), the mayonnaise was deliciously spread (by Owen), the lettuce was placed (by Owen), the actual burger bun was cooked (by Owen), and in the end the burger was flattened together (by Ophelia).
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best example of teamwork but the thought was what counted. For Owen, hearing Ophelia's funny remarks was better than a standup comedy show.
Standing there, observing the beautifully made burger, Ophelia raised a hand.
"What's gonna work?"
"Teamwork," he answered, high-fiving her. From the corner of his eye, he looked at her smiling expression, from her dimples to her starry blue eyes and her blonde bangs. Her golden retriever onesie was snug and adorable, especially when coupled with the hoodie and its long golden dog ears. "You did good."
She turned her smile over to him, brightening. "Aw, it was all you. I did nothing except watch over the airfryer."
"A very important role, mind you."
"Hehe." She flicked the dog ear flopped on her forehead. "Call it the honed instincts of a guardian dog."
That…didn't make a lot of sense but he smiled anyway. Ophelia was smiling ear-to-ear and there was no reason to ruin that. There was a heartwarming vibe to her when she smiled with those dimples on her cheeks. It was like…everything was going to be okay.
Ah, now he remembered what the saying was.
'If you say nothing nice, you're nothing at all.'
Owen nodded to himself, satisfied.
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