[Jamil stares at him, trying to process all these new revelations of Kalim has been eating in public without Jamil to screen his food and Kalim tried cooking and didn't die. It functions like a splash of cold water to his face in the midst of his spiraling thoughts, at least for now, though he can still feel it simmering in his chest like a pot of water just about to boil. Still, anything is better than that rushing, mounting fear, even if it's just exasperation.
His hands spring back from Kalim's wrists, like he'd only just realized he was still holding them, and he gracefully uncoils from kneeling on the floor to standing.]
no subject
His hands spring back from Kalim's wrists, like he'd only just realized he was still holding them, and he gracefully uncoils from kneeling on the floor to standing.]
If you have ingredients, I can make something.
[Oops! Now who's not reading the room?]