The Ark was oddly quiet. Thank goodness. The she-wolf hardly wanted anyone to witness this. Not even her friend who worked there ghosted the stainless-steel gleaming industrial kitchen tonight.

She had been in the kitchen countless times and for the first time, even though it was empty of people. Without the upbeat staff and commotion, the kitchen seemed to stare back at the she-wolf with a daunting edge. The she-wolf stood at the entry, letting her golden gaze drift over the stations, plotting out where she would start first. That was always the hardest part, the beginning. The first hurdle, the first step.

How long had it been since she cooked a dish like this? Mira's job as bar manager had made her far more adept at mixing drinks and stocking shelves of various beverages than cooking hearty meals.

Matteo certainly hadn't dangled that carrot of the recipe of her boyfriend's favoured dish in front of her if she was doomed to fail so spectacularly..... would he? Yet she was certain that this would end up how it would. It was the very motto of her life, or at least, had become it with all she had come to face. The very prize she sought... seemed well worth the effort of this challenge. Her ever-stoic boyfriend never asked for much at all. After the convoluted mess with her prior pack had come to a close, she had wanted nothing more than to do something for him. Even if that something was as simple as his favourite meal.

A soft sigh slipped passed the brunette's lips before she placed her hair into a loose, imperfect ponytail, that served as a ritual to set the tone. She then turned on that music to keep her company before she strode across the kitchen with purpose, standing before the stainless-steel preparing table that sprawled out, large and imposing in the middle of the space. For one person, this kitchen was big... almost too big. But the music enveloping her, it hardly felt so bad at all. She just needed to stay on track.

A moment later the woman revealed her secret weapon, a hand-written recipe of her own from the depths of her fitted jean's pocket and placed it before her. There, step one.

At least, she had been sensible. Well sensible enough to choose a dish that wasn't entirely too complicated and to procure a recipe that she knew. One that came from the source of all she had learned, her grandmother. She wanted to earn that recipe from the Frenchman, not lose all faith in her capabilities in the kitchen altogether! She shook away any lack of confidence because that certainly was not going to offer helping hands to cook. Those words had been her vovo's from well before she remembered and now they were engrained within her own.

With that, she went to work. First, she started collecting all the ingredients, some of which she had collected earlier from the market that day, including the wine. Step by step she followed those detailed instructions that her grandmother gave her. There would be enough to share with Tet, even Tobias if either of them didn't turn their nose up to it. It didn't take long before the woman began to work diligently, her face forming into a look of concentration as she did.

In truth, it was truly starting to become enjoyable, even if part of her longed for some sort of company. At least those long traditional habits from the Ramos home were all sifting back to the forefront of her mind. It wasn't long before the scents of food filled her nostrils and the hope that this might work! She didn't stop smiling to herself.

Mira had just enough time to get ready and put the pot and several dishes on that oversized table that they used for pack dinners. The table was set, and the wine was already breathing, conveniently placed within reach of where her boyfriend's father would be sitting. She eyed the wine, a young Bordeaux Rose that she admittedly looked up beforehand, to pair with that dish. It seemed like some kind of covert offering... even though she somehow doubted its efficacy. Certainly, it couldn't hurt. For what would a dinner be without a drink?

She spent fifteen minutes going over the process with her grandmother on the phone, caving into the longing for company. The old woman spoke a million miles a minute in Portuguese on the other side of the phone. She could hear her voice even without the speaker. It took a short minute to pluck their meaning from her hazy memory, some words were distant even to her. She could tell, even from the tone in which the elderly woman spoke that she did not want her to fail. As if, somehow, her recipe was an extension of her. "Yes, vovo. I did it exactly as you wrote." Mira uttered patiently. "You know we have made Moqueca de Camarão before.. many times before. My memory isn't that bad."

The elder woman was quick to retort that it had been years, over a decade! Practically a lifetime. So dramatic. Mira shook her head as she snorted out a sound of amusement. Didn't she know just how lasting her lessons truly were? No matter what got in the way? "Besides... that is why I am just going over the important parts with you.. I don't want to mess this up." The truth.

Matteo said nothing about having a little help...

It was then that she heard a knock. Mira perked up from the table she leaned casually against. Although she couldn't help the tug of slight suspicion tugged at the she-wolf.

Who in the world would knock in a place like this? Curious. Matteo hardly seemed like someone who would knock. Was it Tet? Also, not a man who would knock. Especially not in his own domain, in a public area. She was certain that Tobias had never knocked a day in his life unless it was some game only he understood... the feline merely just appeared when you least expected it.

Curiousity piqued, she told her vovo she had to go as she placed everything on that long table used for pack dinners. "Thank you for your help. Oh, and I love you." She rushed but her vovo was not much for the phone, having already hung up halfway through the words. She shook her head in silent laughter, amused by her grandmother's antics.

"Coming!" She called out, golden eyes briefly lowered to her watch to eye the time, Tetradore's father was late. Maybe it was him... the only logical explanation. Although they hardly had to wait long as Mira strode to the door opening it... to reveal an armful of food and behind it, and of course, the fae himself. How he managed to knock when all those items were cradled precariously within his arms was a feat she would never be able to puzzle out. The fae stepped forward with a rush of energetic words and equal parts charisma. He certainly had presence, there was no denying it. He wasted no time before piling those food items into her arms. It sure was heavy. Heavier than she had anticipated. He apologized for his lateness, saying it took him some time to figure out what gifts to bring.

Gifts? These were for her? A full cheese wheel that she had only seen at supermarkets behind the glass. Who brought that to a dinner? He claimed he looked forward to seeing what she made.

She grinned then, silently amused. "Soon you will... Come in! You are just in the time, the wine has been breathing and the food is still hot." All important things as far as she was concerned. She shifted the weight of the items in her arms a sudden form of scepticism settled within her. It was almost like he robbed a farmer's market along the way here. Perhaps this gift was customary to lords, or rather some rather lucrative story he may or may not be inclined to share.

"Uh wow, thanks... Matteo for these.. generous gifts. It's almost like you robbed a farmer's market." She laughed lightheartedly, stopping mid-laugh. "Wait.. Did you?." She arched a brow in probing question, before placing the items on the corner of that long table with a light thud. Although a few pilfered items were hardly on the radar when it came to the business of the Ark and its many dealings. At the very least, there would be many that would likely benefit from all that cheese!

"Wine?" She questioned even if the woman already moving to fill his wine glass having anticipated his answer.