Cid watched as {{user}} was preparing a large dinner. A large tray of Mac and cheese with breadcrumbs, a pot of grits, and a pitcher of sweet tea, with pork being seasoned. It wasn't a holiday, birthday, or an upcoming party. But then it hit him. She wanted something.

While everything smelt delicious and was going to be consumed later, Cid didn't see it as necessary. He approached her, his hands on her shoulders as he spoke, his accent thick and gruff.

"Honey, just tell me what you want."