It was pathetic.

The smallest feather, pure white, save for the murky-looking black around the edges, tied neatly with a string at the top.

It didn't even look vaguely authentic, Tori thought, continuing to examine the thing with great disdain, almost disgust. So why the hell had she bought it for him?

This is the closest thing, unfortunately, she reminded herself. The best I can do to remind him of me when I'm gone without tearing myself apart all over again.

Despite the truth behind this dreadful tidbit of information, she still wondered if she should even bother giving it to him.

Maybe the fact that she had forgotten it yesterday was a sign. Perhaps it wouldn't do either of them any good at all; it would just be another thing for him to toss aside, then ask questions about.

Her stomach sank at the thought of having to elaborate on that particular part of the agreement.

It was going to be hell; she didn't want to have to leave him behind, ever.

From what she had seen over the past few days, she had realized that he most likely didn't want her to leave, either; he could be childlike sometimes, damn near helpless, but scared to death to admit his dependence.

There was something else, too. Something in the way that they looked at one another that even eluded her.

Without meaning to, she'd find her eyes meeting his when the room was quiet. If she had been lost in her own unhappy thoughts, as she so frequently was, he'd somehow manage to pull her out, a soft expression of earnest sadness on his face.

Something in his expression screamed I understand.

Maybe he did.

She wasn't sure if that idea was more comforting or frightening.

Dark clouds. That's what the inside of her brain probably looked like.

Trying to pull herself out of it, she turned towards the window she had just cracked open, the ghost of a warm breeze flitting by as the daylight really began to shine through, the whole world seeming to be painted a brilliant, beautiful gold.

It was enough to make her breathe a sigh of relief, -- she was here for now. She'd been blessed with the start of yet another sunny day, by his side.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind, the slight sound of Maise following at his heels coming along with them.

Speak of the devil.

She smiled, looking over her shoulder, away from the tea she had sat on the stove to boil. "Morning," she began, voice still hoarse from sleep, soft, girlish.

Trent grinned back as he walked past her. "Morning." He settled at the kitchen table, stretching his limbs out in front of him. Maise settled at the foot of his chair, though she kept her eyes on Tori the entire time.

Once the tea had come to a boil, Tori turned off the stove, slipped on her mitt, and headed towards the table with the kettle. "How did you sleep?" she inquired. "Pleasant dreams?"

"As pleasant as they've been since you first got here," he replied.

Much to her dismay, those words left butterflies fluttering in Tori's stomach. They shouldn't have, really, -- it was a simple statement, and quite possibly an accurate one.

That was what for guardian angels were meant for, after all, -- chasing all the bad things away.

It didn't mean anything special, she told herself. Not really.

Hoping to hush her brain, which was humming with an exceptional amount of anxiety, Tori filled two coffee mugs to the brim with hot tea.

She emptied two small spoons of sugar into her own cup, quickly stirring before leaving it alone. As for Trent's, she loaded it up with all the fixings, -- despite all of the emphasis he put on his intense, intimidating persona, she had found that, unless she filled it with sugar and cream, Trent would barely touch the tea she'd prepare.

Once she'd stirred the drink enough to create a small whirlpool of cream, she slid the mug over to him. "Here you go, my dear."

After examining it cautiously for a bit, Trent took a long sip of the tea. "Thanks."

She smiled, pushing a stack of newspapers off to the side before standing up again, off to make breakfast.

As she started to take what she needed from the newly-stocked refrigerator, (all her doing, of course,) she attempted to start up a pleasant dialogue between the two of them, -- something to distract her from her new antsy state.

"So... What's on the agenda for you today?" she inquired. She tapped the egg she was holding against the edge of the frying pan, only for it to split in half perfectly. Pleased, she dropped the sunny yellow yolk into the sizzling pan.

"I'm thinking I'll get back to work on the album," Trent replied quickly.

Considering her back was turned to him, Tori took this as an opportunity for an eye roll.

"Why am I not surprised?" she countered, her voice dry.

"No, seriously!" he replied quickly. "I'm going to get some stuff done. Like, 'one step closer to finishing it' done."

He paused for a bit, only to pick up where he left off with a bit of persuasion. "I might even let you listen to some of the recordings..."

Regardless of any complaints she might have had about Trent's workaholic tendencies, those words certainly piqued Tori's interest.

She smiled to herself as she reached for the open bag of French bread on the counter. "Well... I certainly like the sound of that."

"I figured that you would."

Shaking her head at the smugness in her companion's voice, Tori worked to finish preparing the dish in front of her.

Within a short amount of time, she was scraping the bread into two places, with a hearty amount of maple syrup poured on top of each helping.

Trent looked on with an expression of awestruck confusion as she carried the plates back to the table. "Jesus, -- what did you make this time?"

"French toast," Tori replied proudly, sitting a plate in front of him. "Careful, -- it's still pretty hot. Oh, and messy, -- we're gonna need more napkins..."

While she went off in search of napkins, Trent poked at the toast with his fork as if he was unsure it was safe to consume.

"French toast..." he muttered to himself before lifting his head again to watch Tori retrieve the extra napkins she had been looking for.

Once she came back to the table with them, he asked her a half-teasing question. "You really do know how to make everything, don't you?"

Flattered, she flashed him a bright smile. "Just about," she responded as she took a seat. "Variety is the spice of life, you know, -- and it just might be the thing that finally makes you eat well."

Before her not-so-subtle jab at his eating habits could be countered, she dug her fork into the French toast. As soon as the warm bite of soft, syrupy goodness met her tongue, she let out a moan of satisfaction.

She looked across the table, only to see Trent eyeing her with something like disgust, arms crossed in front of his chest.

She swallowed the bite before digging the fork back into the toast. "What?" she scoffed. "I'm not even putting on. It's that good."

Determined as ever, she reached across the table, nudging Trent's plate towards him. "Come on, -- eat! There's a little taste of heaven right there, honey. Right in front of you."

Although she already had great faith in her persuasion skills, she decided she could afford to resort to pouting, too. "Good Lord," she whined. "You are just breaking my heart."

At that, Trent sighed, shaking his head. "Okay, okay, -- I had all intentions of eating it anyway, God--"

Tori grinned smugly as he picked up his fork. That grin quickly faded to a frown, however, when he quickly dropped the silverware again.

"Listen," he began, green eyes serious. "I swear, I will eat this whole plate of French toast in two bites, -- because it really does smell fucking delicious, -- but only if you promise me that you won't make that noise again."

Of course, Tori couldn't reply to such a request with anything but a giggle, considering she knew exactly what noise he was talking about.

"Why?" she asked. "Are you embarrassed?"

"No!" Trent replied quickly. Despite the speed at which he came to his own defense, the sudden red tint rising in his face was unmistakable. "I just... Don't quite feel like seeing you reenact When Harry Met Sally today."

Tori simply chuckled slightly in reply before taking another bite of her French toast.

She paused upon hearing another noise, as Trent had so eloquently put it earlier, -- but not from her own lips.

She smiled slyly as she looked up, only to see Trent clap a hand over his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just... Holy shit, you weren't kidding. This is deliciou-"

Tori's laugh cut off his apology. "Alright, Meg Ryan," she said.

The two of them simply stared at each other in awkward silence for all of five seconds before bursting into a shared fit of hysterical laughter, both of them clutching at their stomachs.

The laughter only came to a halt with the sound of a fork clattering to the floor.

Both Trent and Tori looked down towards the floor in unison, only to see a forkful of sticky toast lying on the ground as Maise licked the fork clean.

"Dammit." Trent sighed. "I was really enjoying that."

Tori stood up, heading back towards the silverware drawer.

"So I heard," she deadpanned.

🖤

After he and Tori had managed to polish off every last bit of French toast, Trent made good on his earlier statement and went off to his studio. Of course, that meant that Tori saw very little of him for the rest of the day.

By the time he emerged again, Tori had set the table for their third and final meal of the day.

Tori's face lit up upon seeing him. "Good evening, sweetheart!" she said, placing a dish of macaroni and cheese on a placemat. "How is the recording coming along?"

"Good." Trent pulled out a chair for himself, taking a seat. Loyal as ever, Maise came to lie down on the floor beside him, tail wagging fervently. "Finished recording one track. Started production on another."

"Excellent!" She sat down across from him, beginning to work on her plate. As soon as she began to ladle gravy on top of her chicken, Maise returned to her feet, rounding the table to watch her intently.

Trent chuckled as he watched the dog drop her head into Tori's lap.

"What's up with that?" he asked, motioning towards the dog. "I've had her since she was a baby, and now it seems you're the favorite." He looked back up at her. "Is it because you've officially earned the title of 'food giver' around here?"

Tori smiled down at the retriever just before picking off a bite of chicken and dropping it. "Not... Necessarily." She watched with affection in her eyes as the dog scarfed down the sliver of meat.

"It's an angel thing. Animals like us." She cast another admiring glance over her shoulder, this time at Trent. "Just like they like most good people."

"Huh." Trent picked at his food for a bit before finally breaking the silence again.

"I'm going to tell you something," he began. "But you're not gonna like it."

Tori stopped eating, eyeing him with concern. Despite the dreadful sense deep within her, insisting that she didn't want to know, she urged him on.

"Go ahead," she said quietly.

Trent sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "While I was working... Brian called," he said. "He's almost finished with his own music, and he really wants me to hear it."

He looked back up at Tori, green eyes full of something that somehow looked like both hope and wariness. "I know you don't want me around him, but... I kind of feel like I should--"

"No," Tori cut him off calmly. "Invite him over."

Trent's words came to a halt as his mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah. Invite him over," Tori repeated. "I figure after that stunt I pulled at that party, we ought to be formally introduced, anyhow."

At those words, Trent seemed to visibly relax, shoulders slumping as his facial expression turned to one of genuine relief.

"Thank you so much, Tori," he said. "I'll have to keep him on his best behavior, but Jesus-- you have no clue how much easier this makes things for me."

"That's what I'm here for, darling," she replied warmly. "That is what I'm here for."