The Weretiger and Werewolf

the mask comes off

It turns out that Demons don't need a lot of sleep and so Ruka gets up with the morning. I feel my muscles stretch as Ruka lifts her arms over her head while yawning.

"Have a good sleep Ruka?" I ask my tone sarcastic.

Ruka frowns "No my dreams were full of anger you probably felt me toss and turn."

I can feel relief wash over me, she doesn't suspect anything and I reply "Well sorry but I don't have much empathy for you."

Ruka laughs softly out aloud and grabbing the keys to the room walks out, turning once to look at Winter who is still asleep. "Where are we going?" I ask as she walks down the pathway. The concrete is cold in the early morning sun and I can feel the coldness creeping up my legs.

"I'm going to make us some breakfast," Ruka replies "As far as I know you don't even know how to cook so it's a good thing that I can, at least Winter won't get food poisoning now."

I growl "I can cook I just don't like to."

I can feel Ruka roll her eyes "Well I was around in the middle ages where cooking was something you needed to know, I might as well use all the skills I picked up over the years."

I huff "I'm surprised you didn't just force someone else to cook for you."

Ruka's now standing in front of the cheap looking restaurant that is connected to the motel and seems to be studying it when she replies "I know it seems like the only things I like to do is kill but I do have a few other interests."

Ruka peers into a window that shows the inside of the kitchen. It seems that the motel doesn't bother about serving breakfast and the kitchen is empty of life. I can feel one of my claws being extended as Ruka uses it to pick the lock on the back door that leads to the kitchen.

"Does breaking and entering enter onto your list of other interests?" I growl as she walks into the kitchen, surveying it.

Ruka sighs "No, but I enjoy cooking and as you probably already know I don't let anything stand in between me and the things I want."

With well practices hands Ruka lights the stove and finding a frypan proceeds to search the industrialised size fridge for eggs and bacon.

Ruka seems to be in the mood to talk and says "people see cooking as a chore now days but I use to see it as a privilege when I was alive back in the Tudor times. We didn't always have food and so it was exciting when I could cook because it meant that we would have food for that day."

Ruka cracks a few eggs onto the frypan and a hiss sounds out as the eggs begin to cook. Leaving the frypan Ruka looks around on the pantry and pulls out a few tomatoes.

She grabs a knife off a magnetic strip that hangs on the wall and tests it while nodding in satisfaction "If a kitchen doesn't have sharp knives than the chefs that work there shouldn't be alive."

If I could frown I would "That's a little harsh isn't it?"

Ruka shrugs "probably, but I hate a blunt edge."

I hate Ruka but I can admire her skill at cooking. While she only makes fried eggs, bacon and tomatoes I can tell that she's at home in a kitchen. She's never set foot in this one before and yet it's like she's lived here her entire life.

She begins to hum as she works and I stay quiet, slightly confused about this side of Ruka. I'm use to seeing her as someone who craves violence or blood. Instead she's expertly flipping eggs over while making sure the bacon doesn't burn.

Piling the food onto two plates Ruka even has the decency to clean up the kitchen space that she was using and walks back to where Winter is, carrying a hot plate in either hand.