[Connor keeps close while L rises; he doesn't grab hold right away, god knows Connor doesn't like to touch people he doesn't know if it's avoidable, but when it's clear L is still struggling, he offers a hand and tucks his free arm around L's waist for additional support. He's not so much taller that it's awkward for either of them.
He listens quietly to what L says--"dishwasher" is a foreign word, but easy enough to figure out.]
Wait here. I will take care of it.
[He ducks back into the kitchen and god. The smell is infinitely worse in here. He coughs, but that's the end of it.
The jam looks half rotten with the lumps in it and Connor is tempted to discard it anyway, but if L wants to poison himself on old jam, that's his business. He leaves it where it is along with the closed tin and the photograph and hunts for something he can use to cover the rotting fish. Unfortunately, there's no easy way to clean this up; anything used on the spill will no doubt absorb the smell. Well. No way around it.
There are a number of towels around the kitchen so he commandeers a handful and uses them to wipe up the spill. They'll need to be disposed of along with the fish, most likely. Leaving the juice on the counter, however, wasn't an option. Finding a closed container that will fit tin and towels is a more difficult proposition and frankly, he leaves the area a bit of a mess in the course of his search. In the end, he uses a smooth, plastic bowl and wraps it liberally with sheets of thin plastic he finds in a drawer. It isn't exactly closed, but as thoroughly covered in plastic as the bowl is now, it's as airtight as Connor can make it.
There.
He retrieves the other cans, gingerly stacking the open jam tin atop the still closed one, and the photograph, leaving the mummified bowl on the counter for the moment. The items in his hands he takes to L.]
no subject
He listens quietly to what L says--"dishwasher" is a foreign word, but easy enough to figure out.]
Wait here. I will take care of it.
[He ducks back into the kitchen and god. The smell is infinitely worse in here. He coughs, but that's the end of it.
The jam looks half rotten with the lumps in it and Connor is tempted to discard it anyway, but if L wants to poison himself on old jam, that's his business. He leaves it where it is along with the closed tin and the photograph and hunts for something he can use to cover the rotting fish. Unfortunately, there's no easy way to clean this up; anything used on the spill will no doubt absorb the smell. Well. No way around it.
There are a number of towels around the kitchen so he commandeers a handful and uses them to wipe up the spill. They'll need to be disposed of along with the fish, most likely. Leaving the juice on the counter, however, wasn't an option. Finding a closed container that will fit tin and towels is a more difficult proposition and frankly, he leaves the area a bit of a mess in the course of his search. In the end, he uses a smooth, plastic bowl and wraps it liberally with sheets of thin plastic he finds in a drawer. It isn't exactly closed, but as thoroughly covered in plastic as the bowl is now, it's as airtight as Connor can make it.
There.
He retrieves the other cans, gingerly stacking the open jam tin atop the still closed one, and the photograph, leaving the mummified bowl on the counter for the moment. The items in his hands he takes to L.]
I believe these are yours.