Logan looked up as someone knocked on the kitchen door.

"Can I come help?" It was Violet. Tarra shook her head fondly.

"No, you can't! We can't have a repeat of last time."

"But I wouldn't touch the pot, I'd just be there to help!" Logan scrunched his face up in confusion.

"How can you help if you can't touch the pot?" He asked. There was an over-dramatic gasp from the other side of the door and then a lot of coughing. Logan guessed Violet had inhaled some dust or something.

"You're letting Logan help but not me?" Violet asked weakly but still with dramatic flair. "Well, now I guess I know who the favourite child is!"

Tarra laughed. "It's not that, Violet. It's a remedy for one of Logan's friends. He insisted on helping."

"I didn't insist on anything." Logan said. "You insisted on helping, mam."

"Because you're too like your sibling for me to trust you." There was another dramatic gasp from the other side of the door.

"How dare you, I heard that!" Violet said indignantly. "You know, I'm so offended I don't think I want to help anymore." There was silence from the other side of the door and Tarra turned back to the saucepan.

"She's not gone, is she?" Logan asked. Tarra shook her head.

"I doubt it." She said. "Now, um, we need to add the basil first."

"Why?" Logan asked, always interested to learn. Tarra shrugged.

"Says here that helps it's healing properties infuse... I think." Tarra squinted at the page. "It's all smudged. Someone's been messing with the why of the medicine book."

"Hey, blame mum, not me and Violet." Logan said, his hands in the air. Tarra shook her head again.

"Are you going to hand me the basil?" She asked, laughing a little. Logan's eyes widened and he quickly snatched at the basil, nearly dropping it in the process, and handing it to his mum.

"Sorry." He said quickly.

"Hey, it's fine, okay?" Tarra said. "You didn't do anything wrong, so you don't need to apologise."

Logan nodded slightly and took a breath. He looked over the rim of the saucepan.

"Is it nearly done?" He asked. Tarra laughed.

"We've just started!" She said. "We need to let the basil infuse and then and the crushed up cloves and the mint and then the honey and then we need to let it sit-"

"I get it, I get it, there's a lot of steps." Logan said, backing away. His small smile fell a little. "So it's not gonna be ready for today?"

Tarra shook her head. "Probably not. Sorry, Logan."

"Nah, it's fine. Um..." Logan trailed away and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You really care about this boy, huh?" Tarra asked.

"Why does everyone assume it's a boy?" Tarra raised an eyebrow at her slightly flustered son. "Yeah, right, don't answer that question. Um, yeah. I mean- I don't know him but I guess? I don't know, feelings are confusing."

"Mhm." Tarra said, hitting the spoon on the side of the saucepan once before setting it down. "Yeah, they are. But you insisted on making some medicine for this boy when he could've probably easily recovered himself. So I'm guessing you do care about him to some extent."

I think I'm slowly losing my mind from not being able to put angst in this story. Expect a lot of angst in Slippers and Tar, then.
Bye,
Blaize