jianhuo | (no subject)

Saffron loves the farmer's market in Petros Park. She's there most Saturdays it's open, picking out fresh produce and meats and such. She vastly prefers to use fresh and natural ingredients in her cooking; in Saffron's opinion, they make the food taste so much better. Plus, they're much healthier than using something that's been processed and had fillers and preservatives added.

Now, though, it's too cold for the farmer's market to be open, so Saffron has to content herself with trips to the natural food market she'd discovered last winter. The food she gets there is just as good, she supposes, but the atmosphere isn't quite the same. She's looking forward to later in the spring when she can go back to Petros Park.

One thing both places have in common, though, is the fact that Saffron always buys way too much and then has to figure out how to get it all home. She brings her handy canvas bags, filling them with a whole variety of things she needs to do all the cooking she does for herself and for friends, and then she doesn't think about the fact that she's got six full bags to lug back to High Gate until she's checked out and has to leave her shopping cart there in front of the store and lug the bags herself.

Lifting the bags out of the cart, Saffron debates whether she wants to hoof it to the nearest underground station or just hail a cab.

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Things have been quiet since Neil was released from the hospital. Steve wants to be grateful for that. He's fallen back into a routine since, balancing the classes that he gives at the gym with the classes that he takes at the college, but he still can't ignore the sense of unease that rests just beneath the surface of all things. He feels it like an itch in his skin, a weight on his bones, a nagging at the back of his mind. It was easy, before, to yield to a false sense of security. That illusion has been shattered now.

The quiet is the hardest part. It sets him on edge. He feels like he's constantly waiting for the next thing, and he's useless until then. So he keeps going through the motions, trying to live as he did before everything changed. If he can help it, he doesn't think about the fact that no one is safe, not his friends or his neighbors or the strangers that he passes on the streets. He doesn't think about the fact that he can't help them until the next someone or something attacks, and even then, he might be too late. If he can help it, he doesn't think.

Not thinking is hard work, though. Thoughts come unbidden, of their own accord, and pushing them away takes more energy than it would seem. He used to be prone to migraines, before the serum, and it's a testament to Dr. Erskine's genius that they haven't returned in full force. This afternoon, he has time off, and that makes it especially hard not to dwell on the many ways in which he's failed to protect this town and its people. He goes for a walk, hoping to clear his mind, or at least to find a distraction. He's beyond grateful when he spots Helen leaving the store.

"Need a hand?" It isn't much, but for the first time today, he's in a position to be helpful. To be of use. And he suspects that Helen will do a great job of keeping him out of his own mind.

Saffron looks up at the familiar voice, glad when she sees who it is. Steve and his impressive muscles really will come in handy right about now, even if hauling grocery bags is not exactly a terrible important task.

"Steve," she says, smiling warmly at him as he approaches. "I would love one, sugar. I always seem to manage to buy a whole lot more groceries than I can carry. Long as you're not busy, that is."

"Not at all," says Steve, returning the smile. He glanced down at shopping cart that she was unloading, his eyes growing wide. He was a long way from splitting rations in a foxhole, that was for sure. He leaned in and rounded up four of the bags, two in one arm and two in the other. "This is all for you?"

"Just how big an appetite do you think I have, mister?" Saffron says teasingly as she picks up the remaining two bags, silently grateful that they seem to be the lightest of the bunch, albeit only marginally. "I love to cook, so I do sort of a lot of cooking and baking for friends and neighbors. I'd be happy to add you to my list, if you're interested in the occasional home cooked meal or baked good."

"Sometimes I forget not everyone has the appetite of a super soldier," Steve says with a laugh. He isn't exactly surprised by Helen's admission; she always has struck him as kind and neighborly. And around here, he knows, everyone needs a hobby. "I can barely make my way around the kitchen myself, so I'd be a fool not to say yes."

He realizes then, as a flux of shoppers make their exit, that they're still hovering just outside the store doors. "So which way are we going?"

"Consider yourself added," replies Saffron. "Besides, least I can do is feed you to thank you for helping me out with all of this."

She nods in the direction they need to go and starts walking, making sure he's with her. "High Gate Terrace. Close enough for us to walk, now that you're helping me with the bags."

Even with several bags weighing him down, Steve could easily keep a quick pace, but he falls into rhythm with Helen easily enough. It's nice, actually, this leisurely stroll. Sometimes he forgets that just because he can get anywhere quickly doesn't mean that he must. There's something to be said for taking one's time.

"So how have you been?"