One potato, two potato

Kellam’s musings were interrupted by a voice behind him, calm yet unfamiliar. Wait, no maybe mildly familiar, someone he’d seen or heard around Megara possibly, not that he cared either way. He straightened, his gaze sliding over to the young man who now stood a few paces away. Kellam hadn’t expected company in the repository, it had seemed most who had entered were avoiding him, and the idea of a stranger wandering into his private corner of contemplation brought a frown to his face. He scrutinized the man with the cold, assessing stare.

Kellam gave the slightest, measured nod, pulling the requested book from the shelf. His gaze flicked over the cover, lips curling with faint amusement when he saw the title—a rather domestic cookbook, more suited to a homestead than a repository. Curious choice, he thought, holding it up for a beat.

So, Kellam began, his tone both low and piercing, as though he were addressing not only the stranger but the empty air itself. A cookbook eh, I don’t mean offence, Well, perhaps he did mean at least a tiny bit. But, you don’t strike me as the domesticated type, though I could be entirely wrong, what do I know.

@Nairn Neirdre