( Mindful of the pot on the stove, he drops the heat down to a safe, tolerable low. Something safe to leave to its own devices in favor of joining Jaskier at the table, absently brushing away a light dusting of flower before he plants his elbows on the surface.

Jaskier seems pretty happy to latch onto that change of subject away from himself, and Dean spots it — but he also gets it. He won't push here like he'd do with somebody he knew better. They don't exactly have that kind of dynamic, but he retains the right to worry a little. )

Repairs, mostly. The storms really screwed up a lot of places. Siding, roofing, stuff like that. Me and Gerald are also workin' on putting together a pool table for the Sarstina here and there, but-

( He shrugs a shoulder. That's more of a side thing.

He shovels a too-big bite into his mouth, immediately burns his own tongue, but it's totally worth it. There's a full stop, an incredulous look down at his plate, and a low sound of approval. )

Dude.

( Chef's kiss, my guy. Hell yeah. Depression who? Never heard of her. Ravioli. )