Jake swarmed her, rubbing himself up against her leg and pushing her slightly off balance, causing her to grasp the doorframe. He didn’t wait around to be pet, simply ran off to do whatever dogs did at ten in the evening. 

Charlie trudged in after Luke, making her way to the kitchen island as per usual. She was too drunk to care about the dirty plate Luke left behind; without alcohol, she probably would have said something or simply taken care of it, but in her current state she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her hands attempted to collect the papers in front of her into a semi-straight pile, then began looking through them idly.

But then Luke grabbed the plate. Charlie’s eyes followed his movements, then blinked rapidly as she looked up at him. Had she said something? She didn’t think she’d allowed any of her thoughts to be voiced. She grabbed the beer and raised it in the air like a mock toast before taking a long sip. She could already feel the hangover coming, and she was sure that in the morning she would swear off alcohol for at least a decade.

“Help?” Charlie guffawed, shaking her head. “When did ‘I’ll make you anything’ turn into ‘we’?” Nonetheless, she pulled at the tie around her wrist and gathered her hair, forming a messy bun on the top of her head that would keep stray hairs from the food. “I wouldn’t have agreed to leave if I’m known this was what was waiting for me.” She reached into a cabinet, pulling at the container of lard she kept - a tradition, courtesy of her grandmother - before going to the fridge for buttermilk and sausage patties. 

“Do you even know how to do these?” She asked skeptically, raising a brow to mirror the look he’d given her moments earlier. No matter how inebriated she was, Charlie was sure that she could make the dish in her sleep. The package of meat slipped from her fingers onto the counter, though she was a bit more careful with buttermilk.

“Did you meet anyone at the bonfire?” The question left her lips before she was able to think of it, and all she could do now was act innocently. Like it didn’t matter if he’d made a connection. Like she’d be happy for him if he had made conversation with a pretty girl that he wanted to take out on a date, now that Anna was off the table.

Charlie grabbed the flour and a bowl, beginning to make the mixture with no haste. “Mawmaw always said that you had to make these [I]with love[/I],” she said, giggling and wiping a hand over her face to remove stray hair from her eyes. “Can’t rush ‘em.” Her accent was a bit more prominent now, thanks to the alcohol. 

In her daze, she hadn’t realized that the butter hadn’t even been added. She looked around for the sticks, though none were to be found, and washed her hands. It was only after she’d attempted to place another few sticks in the freeze when she realized Luke had already done that. She felt heat rush her face before she shut the door and turned to find her beer. 

“You gonna take care of me in the morning, too?” Charlie asked, the bottle opening lingering near her smile. "Or is that another we problem?"