Through time; The ripper

A gentleman for breakfast

*Lily*

I wake to the soft, rhythmic purring of Darcy and Heathcliff from the bed, their little bodies curled up next to Leo, who is still tucked under the covers of my bed. The sight fills me with a mixture of amusement and irritation. “Traitors,” I mumble under my breath, watching them snuggle closer to him as if they belong there. I can’t help but chuckle; they’ve only just met him, and already they’ve chosen sides.

I tiptoe out into the kitchen area, careful not to wake anyone. The morning light filters through the small window, casting a warm glow on the worn countertop. I make my way to the fridge, groping for the last remnants of breakfast supplies. I pull out eggs, cheese, and some leftover bacon I had stashed away, a small treasure from my last grocery run. As I c***k the eggs into a bowl, I can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. Cooking always calms my nerves, and I need that right now.

Just as I’m whisking the eggs, I hear a sound behind me. I turn, and my breath catches in my throat. There’s Leo, standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his pants. The bandages wrap around his torso like a second skin, a stark reminder of what he’s been through. His hair is tousled, and a hint of confusion lingers in his eyes, as if he’s still waking up to the realization of where he is.

“Hey,” I say, my voice a little breathless. “You didn’t need to get up. I would have brought you breakfast in bed.”

He shakes his head, a grin breaking across his face. “That would be far too much. I can manage a few steps, I assure you.”

“Alright, but you’re still going to sit at the table,” I insist, gesturing toward the small dining area. “How does your injury feel? Is it warm or throbbing?”

He winces slightly as he moves toward the table, but he’s careful, as if he’s gauging his own strength. “It’s sore but not infected,” he replies, his voice steady. “I think I’ll survive another day.”

“Good to hear,” I say, turning back to the stove and starting to cook. The sound of sizzling bacon fills the air, and I can hear the soft clinking of the utensils as I juggle the pots and pans. I glance back at him, noticing how he watches me with an intensity that is both flattering and unnerving.

As I set the food down on the table, I ask, “So, what do you do when you’re not recovering from wounds?”

He raises an eyebrow, a curious smile playing on his lips. “I suppose I should ask you the same. I’m intrigued by the idea of you studying to be a nurse.”

I take a seat across from him, my heart racing slightly at the unexpected direction of the conversation. “It is a good path,” I mumble. “Helping people.”

“It is,” he says. Then he starts asking about the school, and where I want to work after. After about five min he stops and look at me. “Hopefully I won’t offend you, but you do not sound super exited about it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly what I wanted,” I admit, biting into my bacon. “I always dreamed of working in forensics. There’s something thrilling about piecing together a mystery, you know?”

“Really? That sounds fascinating,” he replies, leaning forward. His expression is genuine, and it makes me want to share more. “Why nursing, then?”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “My aunt is paying for my school, She also Got me this place and she believes nursing is a more suitable profession for a woman. At first, I didn’t think it was a job for me. I thought I could do something more… adventurous.”

“Adventurous?” he echoes, his tone teasing. “What a brave choice. Did you find that in the end? The adventure you were seeking?”

I nod, a smile creeping across my face. “In a way, yes. But it’s not the same as chasing down clues or solving mysteries. It feels… safe.”

He ponders my words, his gaze thoughtful. “Safety isn’t a bad thing, though. Sometimes it can lead to unexpected adventures.”

I’m taken aback by his insight. “That’s true. I just sometimes feel trapped in this routine, you know? Like I’m meant for something bigger… Jesus that sounded so wrong coming out.”

He nods, and I notice how his eyes flicker to the cats as they stretch, yawning and slowly making their way toward the table. “You have a way with people, Leo,” I say, breaking the quiet. “And cats… I didn’t expect that.”

He chuckles lightly, a sound that warms me from the inside out. “Thank you. I’ve had my share of time to think and observe.”

As I stand up to refill my coffee cup, I catch him mirroring my movement, rising from his seat with the same grace. It’s strange, almost like we’re in sync. “You know,” I say, glancing back at him, “you have a knack for using old words. Sometimes it sounds like you stepped out of a different era.”

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I suppose I do. I’ve always had a fondness for language, the way it weaves stories together.”

“Stories?” I echo, intrigued. “Like what?”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “Stories of adventure, of bravery, of love and loss. They’re all around us if you know where to look.”

I feel a shiver run down my spine, his words resonating deep within me. “You’re quite the philosopher,” I say, unable to hide my smile.

“Perhaps,” he replies, a hint of mischief in his voice. “Or perhaps I’m just a man with too much time on his hands.”

As we continue to eat, I find myself lost in conversation, sharing bits of my life that I’ve never revealed to anyone. It’s liberating, like shedding a skin I didn’t realize was too tight. He listens intently, asking questions that dig deeper, revealing layers I didn’t know I had.

When I get up to take the plates, he stands again and I look at him. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” He looks slightly confused.

“Stand up when I do.” I motion towards him.

He straightens a little, “A gentleman always stands when a lady does.”