[attr="class","postbody"]The room was too small for two people, really. It could physically hold them, especially with Mercer sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia in Taishu's bed, but it just felt too small, too cramped. He held the weight as gracefully as ever, but it still got to him. He'd sat in there for a few hours, hands wrapped around a gun, finger against the trigger guard, but eventually he just couldn't do it anymore and had to leave. Hunger gnawed at him from the effort of not only murder, but self defense, and ideally cooking would help keep his exhaustion at bay a little longer. He'd already drank enough coffee to make himself sick. He had to stay awake. Mercer could too easily kill him in his sleep. Done proper, a slice across his neck and he'd bleed out in second. He'd fought too hard for his life to go out now and so gracelessly.

He stretched, joints popping but still not feeling quite right, but he didn't strain them more. He told himself that his hands shook because of the lack of sleep paired with the coffee. He clenched them into fists, then relaxed them as he walked into the small kitchen. It was somewhere around ten in the morning which was late enough for him to justify skipping breakfast and going straight to lunch. He went through the motions of making stirfry. Noodles, eggs, carrots, chicken, and whatever else he could throw in, really. He ached like he hadn't eaten in days and he wasn't sure if this was going to turn into something where he could only eat a little before he felt sick or if he would eat it all and still crave more. He contemplated his appetite as he cooked, still ever listening for the sounds of Mercer waking up or approaching.

Inevitably, the sounds came. He heard an initial hiss of pain and then silence, presumably brought about by the unfamiliar setting. "I wouldn't move too much." He said over the breakfast counter dividing the kitchen from the bedroom, "Your stitches are still fresh and I would prefer if you didn't bleed onto my bed." He paused in his cooking and looked over his shoulder. "You're not vegetarian, are you?" He turned back and resumed cooking, "You can make your own food, if you are. The pain medicine the doctor prescribed are on the table next to you." He flicked the burner off and served the food into bowls, carrying them back around the breakfast counter and handing one to Mercer. He settled down in the desk chair and crossed his legs before jumping straight into business. "I'm not exactly interested in having you try to kill me for whatever reason. We went after the same guy, got in each other's way, but the guy's dead now and we have a body to clean up." He picked out a water chestnut and ate it before continuing, "So how about we clean up the body and do our best to ensure this doesn't happen again?"