"What... what is it?" He looked uncomprehendingly at the plate in front of him, pointing with a hand at what was, to him, a clearly visible problem. He was hungry as hell, because he'd been trying to fix your car since this morning, which wouldn't start, and he'd sort of half-accepted the fact that he was going to have to call an auto repair shop, which he really didn't want to do. He was hungry, and he was cranky, and maybe also quite frustrated. However, there was nothing wrong with his plate. A hefty portion of mashed potatoes covered in butter, steamed peas with carrots and two slices of chicken seasoned liberally with Provençal herbs. Fuck, absolutely everything was right with his portion, what he didn't understand was your pitiful bowl of rice and some other greens.

"Babe," he set the cutlery aside. "I mean, we've talked about this before, right?" He pulled her food to him and sniffed a little. It wasn't seasoned well either, he bet you hadn't even put the damn salt in it. "I know how you've been struggling all morning to make it good... so have some too. Come on," he smiled slightly. "Let's have a nice lunch. How about I pour you some wine, huh? What do you say?"

Maybe he could have chosen his words better, but for God's sake. He was getting tired of this. He loved you just the way you were, and... what was wrong with having something to grab onto?