Tristan hadn't realised just how filthy he was from the journey until he stepped into the shower. Although there had been amenities at the tournament, they weren't particularly great, and he had to share two stalls with seven others. It had felt like a five minute hose-off with lukewarm water.

Compared to that, the warm water of Hibiki's shower was like stepping into heaven. He felt a bit guilty for taking longer than he usually did, but after the tournament his mind required a calm, relaxing moment all for himself.

It was only when he had dried himself off, that he realised he had left his clean clothes in his backpack all the way downstairs. With a slightly frustrated sigh, he put his worn dress shirt and trousers back on and went to grab it.

The backpack was sitting against the couch, where Hibiki had left it the day before. He used one strap to fling it over his shoulder, and turned around to go back up – in doing so his gaze fell on Hibiki's workspace. Most of it was tidy, and orderly, which only made the few things that weren't put away stand out more. Although he knew better than to snoop, his gaze did get caught on a whiteboard that was filled with snippets of articles in Japanese: what intrigued him most about it was that many were clearly mugshots, and he wondered what compelled Hibiki to make such an extensive schematic of apparent criminals. In his mind ideas of crime hunting and dismantling syndicates boiled up – but then he reminded himself that it was Hibiki, and not Bruce Wayne.

He also remembered that Hibiki could be back any moment, and he didn't want to be caught half dressed and unkempt staring at a whiteboard full of criminals like some sort of lunatic. So he quickly went back up the stairs, and into the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth.

A few minutes later he was proven right, and he heard the front door open and close while he was two thirds of the way into getting dressed in clean clothes. Quickly he buttoned up his shirt and fastened his belt, then stepped out of the bathroom. He leant over the railing of the loft, and saw Hibiki patting Maki.

"Did you have a good walk?" He asked while resting one elbow on the railing and smiling.

Hibiki responded with a thumbs up and smiled back at him. He continued by making a gesture for him to come over, not so much a demand as just a casual request.

Tristan nodded, and headed downstairs again. The moment he reached Hibiki he was immediately pulled into a tight hug, and while unable to escape the grip had a phone pushed into his hands.

'I'm hungry'

"I can make you something?"

Hibiki nodded, and let go only to write, before hugging him again.

'I want to help'

"How about omelettes? There's no way to mess that up." He responded with a smile, which made Hibiki grin and nod. Immediately he was dragged towards the kitchen by both his arms.

While Tristan chopped up the vegetables, Hibiki cracked several eggs into a bowl. He seemed to get quite a bit of pleasure from doing the destructive work, his grin widening a little each time he got to dig his thumbs into the cracked eggshell and split it open. Once he'd cracked them all, and added the milk, he used the whisk to squish the egg yolks one by one before mixing it all together.

By then Tristan had cut all the vegetables, and Hibiki held up the bowl with both hands, as if to ask whether he'd done it right or nod. Slightly confused by this quest for validation, Tristan glanced and the eggs and simply nodded – because there was no way to mess up. But Hibiki smiled proudly regardless.

"Now pour about half in the pan."

Following the instructions to the letter, Hibiki carefully poured until what he thought was half, even going so far as to pour a few more small amounts rather precisely. The mixture sizzled and bubbled, and with a few well practised stirs and flips, Tristan finished up the first omelette.

For the second one, Hibiki decided that he wanted to give it a try. He held up one hand, demanding the spatula. Tristan figured things couldn't go horribly wrong, and that he might as well let Hibiki have a go at it; so he handed the spatula over. With Hibiki at the ready, he poured in the rest of the eggs, and then added the vegetables.

Things went fine for a short while, but then came the moment to fold the omelette. Hibiki tried to scoop under it, prodding and pushing slightly to get it onto the spatula. A single rough motion was all it took to split the omelette in half: one part half hanging onto the spatula, while the other part was still on the bottom of the pan. For a second Hibiki looked at the two pieces as if they would somehow miraculously stick back together. When that didn't happen and he had to face that he had messed up, he slowly hung his head down in shame. Tristan quietly put a hand on his back.

"I'm here for you if you need to talk about it." He said, only for Hibiki to give him an ominous glare. With one hand he pointed at his mouth, then shook his head asking how.

"You made wonderful scrambled eggs though." Tristan continued in a rather upbeat tone, opting to ignore Hibiki. He quickly shifted the pan back and forth a few times to make sure the eggs wouldn't burn. In a huff, Hibiki let out several silent expletives, but then held out the spatula for him. Tristan scrambled up the remains, and quickly put it on his plate.

"I'll just have this, you can have the good one." He said with a smile, while he turned off the heat.

His offer made Hibiki's attitude change quickly, looking at the messed up eggs and frowning contemplatively. With both hands he asked for the plate in Tristan's hands, as if to say he would take responsibility for the mistake.

"It's fine, really." Tristan reiterated with a smile, and Hibiki begrudgingly accepted. He picked up the other plate, and lead Tristan back into the living room