Perfect Measurements (Orion/Natasha)

He wouldn't know what to do in this woman's house alone, and he definitely prefers normalcy over surprises. It'd be his luck to run into something he's not prepared for in her house. Why is he even thinking like this? He doesn't know. Obviously, someone as hospitable as Natasha would have people coming and going, but to think someone would just waltz in here without saying a word is weird. Maybe it's just the normal male phenomenon he read about. God. Let him be normal in this situation.

He eventually appeared in her kitchen; his bags placed down on her counter. He'll not forget them. He's quiet, simply taking in the atmosphere. It keeps his steady. He's hyperaware of every little detail around him, that is, until her dog barked at him. His eyes would turn to the Pom, his gaze steady, almost too steady, as if he's calculating 100 different futures involving that dog. The Inu received the same look, Orion failed to keep his face stoney and raised a brow before turning his eyes away. Dog temperaments are just like a person's. He's glad they don't speak English.

"What are you making again?" He'd ask eventually, unsure if she ever told him what's coming. It took him a lot to ask.

Natasha looked too involved, and he simply couldn't think of anything casual. He probably doesn't have nearly as many hobbies as her. The food question just came out after he had mentally gone over it 1000 times. Funnily enough, he's already forgotten the 1000 different ways to respond to the answer she's going to give him.

Orion's question was met with silence initially, but that didn't mean she was ignoring him. Far from it. Nah, the result of this silence was a southern woman dutifully concentrated on the task at hand.

Much like the battlefield, this was an intricate process that often required her entire focus. Whenever the kitchen captured her attention, there wasn't much that could drag her away. Of course, she recognized that he might feel awkward if the question was left in the air. Then again, who was to say he didn't feel that way already? Turning away from the stove momentarily, Natasha flashed him a playful wink as she prepared each ingredient with the ease of a seasoned veteran, a culinary expert at home with their craft.

"Chicken-fried steak, with a few side dishes to boot, pumpkin. Won't' take too long, but I don't plan on cutting corners, either, so bear with me for a bit."

Orion understood the silence while his eyes followed Natasha's movements. She probably doesn't consider it, but her skills with a knife would be useful in combat. Cooking feels like it'd translate better to the field than combat would to cooking. He can't imagine that knowing how to shoot between trees would help with gauging how much salt to put in a pot, but that ability to gauge ingredients probably helps a lot with crafting poisons and whatnot. The focus she's utilizing isn't something one should simply break is what he's getting at with his analogy. He knows he'd be annoyed if someone bothered him when he's busy with a task.

She did eventually give him something, and he honestly found the menu satisfying. Well, he hasn't tasted it yet, but expecting anything less from Natasha feels like an inconceivable insult. Considering what he was planning to eat anyway, he definitely can't complain about anything, even the wait. Maybe he should learn how to cook. It could be a worthwhile expenditure.

"...Who taught you to cook?" He'd eventually ask.