Finley nearly forgot to grab some groceries on the way home from The Inkling, but in remembering so, also remembered how unsure he was of this entire situation. Katherine was a fine beast, but Finley knew all too well how poorly some fine beasts can be together. They may fit fine, like so many cardboard pieces would, but often, puzzle pieces came with a whole box full of baggage, and sometimes, however they fit together, the image they created did not. 

 Finley once heard that the things you notice and criticize of other people are those you are critical of yourself, or are qualities you fear that you may posses. While Phillip is an adult and to be held responsible for his actions towards Katherine, Finley could not let go of the idea that, under the same circumstances, he might have grown up the same way. Finley, too, liked to drink, but the more time he spent thinking about Katherine, and in extension, her husband, the more he wondered what it was in his past that lead to the beast he is today. 

 On the other paw, he was still an adult, and however rocky their relationship may have been, he cared for Katherine. He cared about Phillip, but he cared for his wife, so he was obviously going to take her side. Hopefully, though, with a smidgen or two of understanding. Or empathy. Finley also wondered if forest-folk in a pre-forest-folk era ever had to worry about these things. He wondered not if this city was worth it; not if their ability to think and speak and form inter-species communities in a way the fish and the insects were so incapable of doing, was a benefit. He wondered how far back he would have to go in his family lineage to find a family of incoherent messes, and if badgers in the future would think the same of him. 

Finley also wondered, as he was one who would do so often, what in he world he was carrying in his grocery bags home, and how much else of his life was spent on auto-pilot, and what kind of things he would say while on auto-pilot, and if it was much different than the badgers of yesteryear. 

 “Anything interesting?” Katherine asked. 

“No idea,” Finley replied. 

“Ah, yes,” Katherine blushed a bit, but only enough to make her think if she was being too presumptive, “one of those days. I remember those days.” 

Finley haphazardly tossed his grocery bag onto the kitchen counter to see what was inside of it. “Ah, soup. Could you grab the small pot and fill with water? And barley, it’s in the cupboard.” 

And so, like so many times before, Finley and Kaherine fell into sharing the kitchen like it was a daily occurrence. She stirred in the wild greens; singing nettles, garlic bulbs and dandelion, and he portioned out the soup broth and threw together some mushroom ketchup. She added some salt and pepper, he dug out some biscuits that were just stale enough for dinner. It was a simple dinner, but it was a good one, and it was a fresh one. 

 This, he remembered. When all of the drama and riff-raff ignored, this is why Finley and Katherine still stuck around each other; they both cared, they were both aware of the oddity of he situation, but they both just fit. They worked well together. And while neither were perfect, their being friends was a net positive to them both. Finley and Katherine lived in a small city - a cozy one, a comfortable one, and while it was growing by the day, it was going to take more than a few days of doing so for that label to change. They both fell asleep reading their books and drinking their tea.