I didn't say it was a problem, damn. You're so defensive!

[Oh that's where the pots came from. From calling the kettle black.

He gets into the fridge to grab a soda and flops down at the table, even though he's not eating anything himself; it wasn't that long ago he had his own dinner. It sure smells good heating up, though. Everything about this feels good in some way he can't quite pin down, and isn't sure he wants to. Wouldn't that ruin some of the feeling, overthinking it like that?

Maybe it's just the relief of the ghost crap having faded off for now, and hopefully for good.]

I've never even used that pan . . . what's wrong with the microwave? Is it just too commoner for you?