[He feels it's face push against him, feels it's ribcage vibrate as it weaves between his legs and- purrs, maybe? But Bruce can't spend the rest of the time watching because the stove is still on and the contents of the pot are still bubbling. He pulls apart some sliced pieces of carrot and drops them in, stirring left handed. The smells fill the room and mist wafts upward, clouding in the air- where Riku's voice comes to meet him.

Bruce stills momentarily. It's a small, barely-there hesitation, not because he's been startled. But because he's human, and because he finds himself feeling abruptly, profoundly, his age. He's no stranger to ending up out of his depth, heading too far into the deep end and finding his own inexperience there waiting. He's aware of Vanitas rounding the edges of the room, of Riku being the first to enter- cutting a path through the kitchen. It speaks volumes to both of their natures and Bruce's chin dips as he finishes his latest task, reaching for a towel to wipe his hands.]

I did ask after your living arrangements with Quentin.

[It's easier, in a way, to sidestep the reveal from upstairs. To address it only indirectly. He's in good company he supposes; surrounded by people who share his tendency to bear to one side instead of opening directly.]

But since you asked, we are not making anything.

[His eyes flick upward.]

I've seen you cook.