[ Someone had been headed into the kitchen in search of tea. Instead, he'd found himself pausing in the doorway and bearing silent witness to what Lockwood had learned was probably someone's memory. He'd had a few encounters so far and knew well enough to stay put and let the memory run its course.

At first he couldn't place who was the owner of the memory until the moment he saw Zhao come into view carrying the duck. It was an image that was incongruous with what Lockwood had experienced so far with the other man, but it made the youth smile. Initially it the smile of a wee gremlin gathering additional trolling material, but as he continued to watch the exchange, in position to see the expression on the unknown man's face, Lockwood sobered.

He couldn't know exactly what was going on between the two men, but he was good enough at reading people to be able to understand that he was witnessing something special between them. Not romantic, precisely but something that made the well prepared Peking duck more than simply a tasty meal.

Unless identified in the doorway, the young man would wait until the memory ran its course, before making his presence known. Stepping out of the shadowed doorframe and into the kitchen. ]

This is where I say something like 'I didn't know you could cook', but that is a ridiculous sentiment. The meal looked well made. George cooks like that, for Lucy and I back home. [ His tone hopefully conveys the unspoken meaning in his words. That George cooks with the love of family, that extra bit of ingredient. ] Its always so much better than anything we could get in a restaurant.