Nothing quite compares to the smell of a home cooked meal, doubly so when cooking for a loved one. Of course, when Rayne cooks food for her Mistress, she isn’t exactly cooking said food for Azalea to eat. From that perspective, some might say that since Rayne is the one who does the eating, she thus cooks for herself. That begs the question: why cook at all when the atomic compiler is right there? No meal is too complex, too obscure, too bizarre for the compiler. Some have said compiler food is “too perfect,” as though such a thing could make a meal taste somehow worse. Rayne suffers no such delusion: because she doesn’t cook for herself. Were she to, she wouldn’t be cooking at all. 

Rayne cooks not for the taste of food on her tongue, nor for the love of the art—though she does take joy in it—she cooks for one simple reason. It’s the same reason that the tomato sauce currently simmering atop her stove is made almost entirely of ingredients from Rayne’s personal garden. It’s the same reason the mozzarella Rayne has just finished shredding is similarly scratch made. The same reason Rayne gathered the milk used to make said mozzarella herself, by hand, from a… locally sourced producer. That reason is quite simple: to make her owner proud. Now that is a feeling worth working for. 

Speaking of, just as Rayne finishes placing her assembled product into the oven, a commotion at the door signals the return of one Azalea Dendra, First Bloom. The front door of their hab unit bursts open as Azalea bounds through their home in a full on sprint. She proceeds to round a corner too fast, trip, and tumble the remainder of the way into the kitchen, ultimately coming to a halt a vine’s length from Rayne, and popping up to her feet. Gasping, Rayne bursts into excited applause, then holds up both hands, all ten of her fingers raised high. “Perfect form, Mistress! I didn’t know you were a gymnast!” 

Azalea gives an affable flick of a vine, and leans casually against the wall. “Well, y’know, I guess there are things about myself even I don’t know,” she replies coolly. Pure awe shines bright on Rayne’s face as she tries, and fails to fathom what more her magnificent and mystifying owner might be capable of. Ever the humble one, Azalea blushes, then scratches her pet under the chin. “Did you have a nice day, darling?” 

“Every one of my days is a nice day, Miss! All thanks to you,” Rayne replies, fixing her owner with a doe eyed gaze. “But more specifically, I just relaxed, tended the garden a bit, and made this pizza. Oh, also someone came by to install that new sliding door I ordered for you!”

“Sliding door?” Azalea hummed, scratching her chin. “I don’t remember anything about that, little one.”

“Oh! Well, you know how you love doing that joke for me where you pretend to not see the glass door and ‘accidentally’ walk right into it? But since you’re so big and strong you also keep accidentally breaking it. So I put in a special order for a hull-grade sliding glass door to be installed! Remember?” 

The explanation is met with a blank stare, then a shrug. “I don’t think I remember that, sorry little one.” 

“That’s okay, Miss! You have much more important things to remember I’m sure! That’s why you have me!” Rayne cheers. “It’s the reason we went to the office to get that form signed: form ab-2315-df-43-b. Does that help?”

Azalea screws up her eyes. "Form what now?” 

“The one we went to get last week but then didn’t need to fill out because you convinced the clerk to do it for you and then we played that puzzle game with the chair,” Rayne explains. 

All seems clear now; Azalea nods as her eyes spark with recognition. “Ahh, of course! By the way, petal, remind me later to decompile that chair. I keep meaning to get around to that but I haven’t yet and I keep tripping over it.”

With a mock salute, Rayne chirps a happy, “Yes, Miss!”

Ruffling her pet's hair, Azalea glances toward the oven timer, and smiles to herself. She has time. “By the way, petal: I have a surprise for you! Can you go wait in the living room for a bit?” 

Already struggling to contain her excitement, Rayne nods, and scampers off to the couch; her Mistress gets to work. Several minutes, a great deal of clattering, a few sudden crashes, and a smoke alarm later, Azalea emerges from the kitchen, clutching a bowl with myriad vines. At the sight of her Owner, carrying what is presumably her surprise, Rayne perks up. “Wow, Mistress! I don’t even know what it is yet and I already love it!”

Azalea grows flush at the comment, and wiggles a bit as she comes to a halt before her pet. “Well then, without furthering a dew, here it is!” she declares, placing the bowl confidently upon the coffee table. “I made you dinner, darling!"

"Really?” Rayne gasps. She darts forward to examine her meal, and gasps, an eager smile blooms from cheek to cheek. “Oh wow!” she cries. ”Trail mix! And it’s got the dried cherries that I like so much too! You remembered! Aww, Miss! Did you go to the grocer all by yourself? And you didn't get stuck this time?"

Glowing from the praise, Azalea takes a seat beside her pet, and gives a self-assured nod. "Mhm! I also opened it, then poured it into the bowl myself."

"Gosh, You're so amazing, Mistress!” Rayne gushes, casting a quick glance back toward the kitchen. “And I see that you decided to leave some out on the floor in case there are any mice or other critters nearby that are hungry! That's so thoughtful!"

"Uh-huh, totally!"

"Thank you so much, Mistress!” Rayne squeals, nuzzling into her beloved’s side. “This will go great as a main course to pair with the pizza I’m making from scratch!" Rewarded with a round of affection from her Mistress, Rayne breathes a contented sigh. She can’t help but steal a glance toward the bowl containing the fruits of her Mistress’ hard work from time to time. The mere sight of it reminds her just how loved and treasured she truly is. And, while Rayne would never admit this out loud, she can’t help but notice what a vast improvement it is upon the first time her Mistress tried to prepare her a meal.