She regrets scolding Rocky once her hands are idle and coated in juices, without a towel in sight. Somehow she managed to forget that cooking is messy. Surely that's among the reasons she gave it up. What a waste it's been, bothering with the complicated excuses, when the amount of cleanup could ward anyone off. Actually, she remarks as Frank sets about grilling, he prepared a dish that makes very little refuse and requires very little tidying up after. She can do it while she's washing her hands and rinsing her cutting board.

Frank catches her as she's standing, board held in both hands. His request is so mundane, it echoes surreally against the aggressively domestic scene they've created. What sucks most is that neither of them can make light of it. Instead of a snide "yes, dear," Jess nods and heads in.

Like she thought, it takes a mere couple of minutes to wash her hands and clean up in the kitchen. Scraps are sorted into the trash or a metal bowl, to be taken out for composting. She wipes the counter down and hangs the kitchen towel over the faucet to drip onto the knives and cutting board to be washed after dinner. Jess grabs her whiskey bottle from the freezer, as well as Frank's beer. She's reading the label as she crosses the threshold onto the deck.

Stepping into the billowing heat of the grill, she hands the bottle off to him. "So is this your brand or was there a deal on?"