Once Maebell is gone, Corbin tousels his hair with the towel, drying it off as much as he can. He brushes his fingers through it, until he is satisfied with the final result. He casts one last look in the mirror and leaves the bathroom. He walks down the first hallway, into the library. He doesn’t stop, though. If he wants to marvel at the books, he can do that later. He walks back out into the living room area, and sees Maebell ladling soup into two bowls. The bowl of cookie dough is gone, but the smell of cookies baking is wafting through the house. Maebell turns around as Corbin approaches. “Ah, here you go,” she says, handing him a bowl of steaming soup. “Careful, darlin’, it’s a tad hot.” Corbin takes the bowl with a smile, sitting down at the table. “Thank you, ma’am. Uh, Maebell,” Corbin corrects. Donovan walks into the room. “Maebell, may I have a word with you?” he asks, standing at the edge of the kitchen. Maebell looks between Corbin and Donovan, before sighing. “Of course, Don. Once we… talk, will you eat some dinner?” Donovan brushes off the question and walks towards the hallway that leads to the entrance hall.
Corbin calls after them, “Uh, where do you guys keep your spoons?” There is no response, so he gets up and follows Maebell and Donovan. He walks around the corner, but quickly moves out of sight. They are deep in conversation. “That… that child cannot stay here, Maebell. I don’t have the time, nor patience, to deal with him. Or, quite honestly, the resources. You know this. Yet, he is sitting in our kitchen, eating bloody soup!” Donovan says loudly. Maebell sighs. “I know, Don. But, he wouldn’t have been out in the woods alone at night unless something was wrong. Need I remind you that you were the one who brought him back here?” she asks softly, placing a hand on Donovan’s arm. “Doing that was a mistake,” Donovan whispers through gritted teeth. “You don’t mean that. You wanted to help him, I know you did. I know you still do. How about he stays the night, and we can talk about it tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and we’re all tired. I’ll talk to Pip about it later, and get her opinion on it. How does that sound?” Maebell asks. Pip? Corbin thinks. Who’s Pip? Who else lives in this crazy house?
Donovan’s eyes flick over to where Corbin is hiding. “You may show yourself now, Corbin,” he says loudly. Corbin stiffins. He’s been caught. He slowly slinks out from behind the corner. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, honestly. I wasn’t trying to hear your conversation, I promise. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It was wrong of me. I know you’re going to be mad. I’m… I’m sorry. I’ll leave now,” he says, his eyes wide and glassy. Corbin turns to walk away. “Wait,” Donovan says, his voice low and cold. Corbin squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck, he thinks. He slowly turns around to face Donovan. “Look, I’m really sorry. Can I just… just go?” he asks, gesturing to the door. Donovan raises his hand, and Corbin flinches. Not much, but enough that Donovan can see it. A quick flash of concern crosses Donovan’s face, but he hides it immediately. He places a soft hand on Corbin's shoulder. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You will be staying with us for the night. In the morning, we’ll figure out what to do. Alright?” Corbin nods, both confused and slightly scared. “A-alright,” he replies, his voice shaking. Donovan’s face becomes warmer, and he steps back.
“Let’s go eat, dear,” Maebell says, taking Corbin’s arm and leading him back into the kitchen. Donovan doesn’t follow them. Maebell sits Corbin back down at the table, handing him a spoon and a napkin. “Go ahead and eat. It’s alright. Donovan is… he’ll be alright. He just needs a moment to cool off,” she says. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She grabs a dish towel and opens up the oven. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafts out. She removes the cookie sheet from the oven, setting it down on the counter. “What type of soup is it?” Corbin asks, pushing his spoon around the bowl. “Chicken noodle, dear,” she answers, removing the cookies from the tray and putting them onto a plate. Corbin takes a tentative bite, and his face lights up. “It’s really good,” he says with a small smile. “Thank you.” Maebell nods. “Of course. How would you feel about some music?” Corbin cocks his head to the side. “Uh… sure?” he says, taking another bite of soup. Maebell smiles and nods. She walks towards the record player and picks out a record from the basket. She places the record on the record player and lowers the needle. A couple seconds of crackly silence passed before classical music started to fill the room. “I hope you like Bach,” she says, walking back over to the kitchen. Corbin smiled into his soup as the music played.
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