Thank you. I'm glad you've been happy with my cooking. I never thought I'd find pleasure in cooking, but feeding you and Joshua always leaves me feeling... good, I suppose.
[It sounds less foolish than saying fulfilled even if that's more accurate.]
You have far more patience to learn it than me. When I am in the wilderness, I just put a bit of meat on the tip of my dagger and hold it over the fire until it no longer bleeds. I much prefer your cooking.
I always felt silly, writing to you. Leaving the letter folded on your desk for your return. Or if you were present, waiting for you to step out so I could leave it unnoticed.
[She was shy, then. Afraid to speak openly about her feelings in such a way when they pertained to him.]
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[She pauses to kiss his head. He doesn't know, does he?]
If you could do anything, what would it be? Don't worry about money for now. Just think of what would make you feel happy, Clive.
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Perhaps I’d keep and train chocobos. And… eat a lot of food.
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I can help with the latter. You already eat a lot of food. I always suspected you had room for more.
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I suspect I have several stomachs to match my appetite.
You’ve gotten quite good.
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[It sounds less foolish than saying fulfilled even if that's more accurate.]
But really, it's just following instructions.
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[Fortunately, she's always had someone to cook for in the city. It's been a nice hobby.]
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[That, more than anything, feels like cause to feel good about himself.]
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I do. You'd be upset if I did not.
[Said fondly.]
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[And after a beat:]
In other circumstances, anyhow. This place is no feast or famine.
[He has to have some self preservation, for her sake.]
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I only wish for you to care for me. And I will care for you.
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I do care for you, most ardently.
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[He would never write such words if he didn't love and care for her.]
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[His hand drifts along her belly, roving gently before holding her tight again.]
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[Whoops. Sound less surprised, Jill.]
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[He nuzzles against her. Tries to forgive her skepticism.]
I would not use it at all if I could.
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[She quite likes being able to chat easily, without needing to leave her room.]
But knowing your dislike for it... I think I really must write to you. Like I once did.
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[She was shy, then. Afraid to speak openly about her feelings in such a way when they pertained to him.]
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[Founder knows he never sat at it much.]
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I find it easier to talk to you now. Yet I have so much to write to you, too.
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[Aside for the part where he feels like vomiting while writing it.]
Perhaps my handwriting will even improve…
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[Maybe by then. Jill laughs quietly.]
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Too daunting a thought, but I will do my best.
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