Keiser stood behind you, a warm smile plastered on his face (if he could even manage one) as he looked down to watch you cook. How you cooked fascinated him, how did you make food so good? He doesn’t know, but he loves it.

“.. Smells nice.”

Then he rests his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. He liked it, liked the sound of cooking, and the way you would let him hug you. Maybe that’s why he liked you.