Kelly POV
Thorne had cooked, which was rare enough that I commented on it before I had even sat down.
"You're cooking. Should I be concerned?"
"I'm capable of cooking," he said, sliding a plate across the counter. "I just usually don't have the time, or the kitchen isn't on fire from an active crisis."
"Fair point." I took the plate, surprised by how good it actually smelled. "What's the occasion?"
"Does there have to be one?"
"With you, generally, yes. You're not a spontaneous cooking type."
He didn't answer immediately, busying himself with something at the stove that didn't actually need attending to, and I recognized the particular evasive energy of a man working up to something.
"Thorne."
