The reward, all told, is largely in that look upon Kieren's face. Regardless of how well the stew might come out, all the trouble and toil is worth it for that flicker of hunger in Kieren's eye.

If only he had a moment longer to dwell in it.

"You've-- what sort of sporting incident?" he asks, hurrying closer to delicately cradle Kieren's injured arm in his hands. There's quite a bit of bruising around his wrist, splotches of purpling skin nearly dark enough to hide the marks from years ago. "Did this happen at uni? Have you joined a club and not told me?"