While Corbin washes his hands, Maebell putters around the kitchen, preparing a few bowls of warm soup. Once the soup is being heated on the stove, she starts to collect ingredients from the pantry. When Corbin comes out of the bathroom, she is mixing a bowl of sugar, butter, eggs, and vanilla. Corbin stands near the door to the bathroom, watching. He doesn’t want to disturb her. A couple more minutes pass, and she pours a bowl with a flour mixture into the bowl of wet ingredients. “What are you making?” Corbin asks, approaching her slowly. His steps can barely be heard on the wooden floors. “Chocolate chip peanut butter cookies. I certainly hope you’re not allergic,” Maebell replies, not taking her eyes off of the dough in the bowl. Corbin shakes his head, looking over her shoulder. “No, I’m not allergic. Wh-why are you making cookies? What’s the special occasion? Sorry, you, um, don’t have to answer that,” he adds, rubbing his knuckles together. Maebell turns to look at him, furrowing her brow with concern. “You don’t need to apologise, Corbin. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m making them because I want to. No special occasion. Well, aside from you being here, but…” her voice trails off as she takes out a cookie sheet from a thin cabinet. “While we wait for your soup to be ready, would you like to help?” she asks. Corbin shakes his head. “No, thank you. I’ll probably just mess it up, to be honest,” he says with a shrug, taking a step back. Maebell tuts. “Nonsense. Come on,” she says, moving aside to let Corbin help. “Are you… Are you sure?” Corbin asks hesitantly.
Maebell smiles warmly. “Yes. I am very sure, Corbin. Go ahead, darlin’. Knock yourself out.” Corbin picks up a small lump of the dough. It’s sticky and soft, and smells better than anything. He hesitates, and then starts to repeatedly hit himself in the head with the lump of dough. “It’s very hard to knock someone out with cookie dough, Maebell,” Corbin says, cookie dough spread through his fluffy, blonde hair. Maebell stares at him in shock, and then bursts out laughing. “That is absolutely not what I meant, dear,” she says, wiping a tear from her eye as she laughs. Corbin looks at her with a smile, shrugging. “I dunno, I’m pretty sure that’s what you meant,” he says softly. Maebell shakes her head with a laugh. “Come with me, we need to wash out your hair. It’s got cookie dough all in it,” she adds, walking towards the hallway next to the bathroom.
Corbin follows behind her, across the room and down the hallway. The hallway lets them out into a massive library. Corbin doesn’t have time to look at the room covered in books, because Maebell keeps walking. She walks to a door on the right side of the room. Pushing it open, the two emerge into another hallway, this one much shorter. There are two doors on the right, and one at the end. The two doors on the right are closed, but the one at the end is open. Maebell walks through the open door, into a large bathroom.
The floor is made of white tile. A bathtub is pressed against the back wall. A large counter-top has two sinks, and various nice-smelling soaps. There is a stool near the bathtub, with a stack of fluffy, grey towels on it. “Sit,” Maebell instructs, moving the towels off the stool and pulling it up to the counter. A large mirror is hanging over the sinks, and Corbin takes a moment to look at himself in it. Cookie dough is pressed into a few of his loose curls. His dark brown eyes roam around the room and look at the clothes. There are specks of dirt on the sweatshirt tied around his waist, and a small rip is on the left shoulder of his t-shirt. He sighs. This was my favourite shirt, he thinks, sitting down on the stool. He crosses his feet, his red Doc Martens clunking together as he does so.
“Right, I’m going to wash out your hair. Is that okay?” Maebell asks, grabbing a washcloth. Corbin nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s more than okay. I can do it myself, you know.” Maebells shakes her head as she runs the cloth under the faucet, warm water soaking it through. “I know you can do it yourself. That’s not the point. I’m happy to help you. Understand?” A small smile grows on Corbin’s face as he nods. “Good. Lean back against the counter, I’ll be done in a jiffy.” Corbin follows her instruction, leaning his neck against the corner of the counter as she shuts off the water. Maebell runs the washcloth over the cookie-dough coated portion of his hair, over and over, until it’s clean. She turns on the faucet, and starts to wash Corbin’s hair properly.
As soon as Corbin figures out what she’s doing, he tries to pull away. “You don’t… You don’t need to do that,” he says. Maebell stops him from moving away by placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “I know, Corbin. I don’t need to do any of it. But I am,” she says calmly, splashing the water over his hair. “Oh,” Corbin says. He hadn’t been expecting that answer. “Oh, okay.” Maebell finishes up with washing his hair, and scoops it up in a fluffy towel, sitting Corbin up straight. “There,” she says. “All clean. I’m going to head back out to the kitchen. Why don’t you finish up in here, and come on out when you’re ready?” She dries her hands on a hand towel, and lays the wet washcloth on a rack to dry. “I think you’re going to like it here, Corbin,” she says as she leaves the bathroom.
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