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Griffin pushed aside the wads of paper that had fallen to the floor with his feet, "Sit wherever you like."
Robin sighed as he looked at Griffin's room. The temperature wasn't as cold as the first time he came here, which meant Griffin had been coming home more often lately. He put the shopping bag behind the door, removed his coat, and rolled his shirt sleeves. He picked up every wad of paper that was scattered around. Griffin must be planning something.
"Don't be curious, Kid."
Even Robin's quietest movements never escaped Griffin's attention.
"Really? I'm not allowed to peek at all?"
Griffin took everything that had been collected in Robin's hands and dropped it into the box beside the study table to be burned later. "I'll let you know when it's done," he said, stretching out his arms, "now show me what you brought."
Naturally, Robin was kept away from the study table. Griffin took a folding table that he slid between the bed and the closet. He spread the table, separating and uniting the two of them.
Robin arranged bread, main dishes with a combination of potatoes, meat, a few vegetables, two bottles of alcohol, and, to Griffin's surprise, dim sum.
"Where did you get it from?"
"My cohorts and I experimented."
"So you cooked it yourself."
"With my friends."
The restaurant comes from the French word restaurer, which means 'provide food for,' literally 'restore to a former state.' However, Griffin read another translation in the language used by people on the island of Java. They call restaurants "rumah makan" or "eating houses". Interestingly, they call other places of sale "toko" or "stores." They call places that sell medicine as drug stores. Then there are grocery stores, bookstores, cigarette shops, etc. Only food stores are called eating houses.
When Griffin chewed on Robin's dim sum, he felt he knew why. Food is not just about stuff to fill the stomach. You were eating the fruit of someone's labor of love who had worked hard to prepare it. In that way, food was the closest thing to home.
"How was it?"
Griffin hadn't expected Robin to be so anxiously watching him.
"It's edible."
Robin let out a sigh of relief. "It's delicious."
"I said edible."
"You mean delicious."
Griffin nudged Robin's leg under the chair, which Robin immediately reciprocated.
It was then that Griffin realized it. Whether in his room, in the Twisted Root, on the streets of Oxford, or in the backyard of the Old Library, when they were alone, they were home.