Tarin was asleep, not exactly an uncommon occurrence since it was 1 in the morning. The other thing about the whole situation that was not exactly uncommon was that Lee was still awake.

What was slightly uncommon was that Lee was in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat. And having absolutely no success. That's not to say that there was no food in the apartment, in fact there was more food in the apartment these days, and not just simply take-out leftovers, than there had probably ever been the entire time that her and Tarin had been together. But still, Lee couldn't find anything to eat. Or at least, she couldn't find anything that was seeming appetizing to her.

With every minute that passed by as Lee searched, the more she was realizing two things: she was wanting pasta, and she wanted homecooked goodness. Both of which, Lee was not going to be able to do very well, despite the fact that she wasn't burning water any more.

In fact, there was really only one time that Lee could remember having something along those lines. Frowning, Lee turned toward the bedroom where Tarin was sleeping, looking in that direction through the wall. The problem was, from a few other cravings she had had, Lee knew that she would not be able to sleep until she found something to eat to satisfy the craving.

This could be bad, Lee thought, standing where she was for just a couple moments longer. This could be very bad, Lee knew, but even as she was finishing the thought, Lee was moving. She started with writing a note for her husband, making sure to stress the fact in it that she was getting a cab rather than walking.

Leaving the note on the coffee table, Lee stood and thought for a few more moments. She wasn't exactly dressed how she would be to go out. But then again, Lee also didn't want to go into the bedroom to change and wake Tarin up. Plus, it was just Rupert.

Pausing only long enough to call down to the desk for the man down there to get her a cab, Lee grabbed her coat and purse and made her way downstairs.

From there, it didn't take long. Rupert didn't really live that far away from her apartment, so the cab ride was short. Paying and getting out, Lee made her way into the building and up the stairs. That was a little more difficult than it would have been months ago, simply because of the extra weight, but it still didn't take long.

And then, almost before she knew it, Lee was standing in front of the door she remembered walking through with Rupert so long ago. She simply stood there for a whole minute, debating with herself about what she was doing.

But the craving wasn't going away. Taking a deep breath, Lee reached her hand up and knocked on the door, not even really considering the fact that she might be waking Rupert up.

((ooc: Timeline note: mind if this is sometime before New Year’s? It occurs to me that Rup will be stuck as Rupetta for rather awhile, after that. >.>))

One in the morning was to Rupert what eight at night was to most working people. A time to yawn a bit, change the channels on the TV mindlessly; maybe wander into the kitchen, forget what you were doing, and sit back down. Maybe make a late dinner, if you’d managed to forget earlier.

Not being much of a working person himself—pity jobs at all-hour coffee shops not withstanding—this was really no surprise. Especially not for a chronic insomniac.

What was weird was that he was out of pasta. Completely out. There had been a few cracked pieces of fettuccini sitting in the bottom of a cardboard box on the top shelf of his cabinet, but that was hardly worth mentioning. A disgrace, is what it was. How could he have not noticed his pasta running this low? He used it three or four times a week, if not more.

That might have been the problem.

Rupert tossed the spare noodles, and dropped the box into his recycling. He’d just have to cook something else: no real problem. There was a stir fry recipe he’d been meaning to try, and he didn’t get many excuses to open up the mirin, his imported cooking wine. It wasn’t like he needed noodles, just because he was Italian.

So, then. He had carrots, right? Of course. Red peppers? Yep. Someone knocked on the door—Rupert went to answer it, still ticking off ingredients in his head. Water chestnuts? Canned, but present. He even had an eggplant hiding in the back of the fridge: he’d been meaning to make eggplant parm, and never quite got around to it. He opened the door.

There was a pregnant woman in his hallway. Rupert’s eyebrow twitched.

“What, is the Medium killing people again? Because I’ve got a dinner to cook.”

((OOC: that's no problem. I was only thinking of it as the new year in my mind, not because of any other threads.))

It really didn't take long for Rupert to open the door. And he simply stood there and looked and her for a moment before he spoke.

Lee simply blinked as she stared at the man. Of course this was a bad idea, how could it have been anything but? Sure, he had seemed actually civil when he had come by the shop with a pie, and they had talked about Alice. But how could she have expected that to last, to continue? Especially considering what had happened when they had ended up in each other's bodies.

But, Rupert said that he had dinner to cook. Even though it was one in the morning.That...well that actually boded well for what Lee had come over here for.

So, Lee ignored Rupert's first question of her and started sliding her coat off her shoulders as she stood there in the hallway. "That's perfect, actually," Lee replied. "Cause I can't cook, and I'm craving that eggplant thing you made me the last time I was here.

"So, can I come in?"