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It's rare for Sevika to feel so utterly unprepared for something so small. Shimmer factory raids? She can keep cool and take control of the situation. Deals threatening to fall through? Not on her watch. Crazy blue-haired teenager blew up half a dozen people up-top? That one veered close to the edge, but Sevika handled it.
A small, thoughtful present from a woman she'd only spoken to a handful of times that wasn't from the brothel, didn't work for Silco or even frequent The Last Drop?
"Sorry, do you not like it?" you asked timidly, slowly withdrawing the small gift to your chest. "Er, you're probably busy, my bad-"
Sevika cleared her throat in an effort to look a little less thrown out of balance. "What is it?"
"It's only some wax melts. I though you'd like them - you melt them over a candle into a small bowl and their smell will waft around the room all nicely. These ones smell like cinnamon."
What a nice thing for a near stranger to do for her. Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed at what must be an attempt to poison her or something along those lines. It's not the first time somebody has tried and failed to come after her to undermine Silco, but it's never been done so clumsily.
"I thought you had some," you added when her annoyed silence drags on too long.
"Why would I have wax melts? Seems like something you'd swipe from top-side - they can't be easy to make."
"They are! You just need sugar and water to make the base for the wax and a little of whatever you want it to smell like. I went with cinnamon because you smell like-"
Sevika's eyes narrowed when you cut yourself off to cough in embarrassment at the weirdness of the statement. She figured she'd smell more like cigars and whisky rather than anything else.
Instead of telling you she can see through your bullshit and to beat it, she opened her mouth and confessed: "I cook with cinnamon a lot. It's the only spice I can get my hands on."
That made sense, you thought to yourself. Cooking is important down here when everyone has to make something out of nothing most days. "Do you like spicy foods? I've always been more into sweet stuff or pastries."
Weeks later, you'd suspected Sevika had forgotten about the whole interaction and that the wax melts you'd given her were buried somewhere in her apartment so she didn't have to deal with them.
So it took you by surprise when, on the rare occasion you showed up to The Last Drop for a drink after work with some co-workers, Sevika noticed you. Noticed and came up to talk with you during a break in her poker game.
A while later, when you'd stepped outside for some air and to breath out the tipsy, Sevika joined you outside for her smoke break.
"I was at the baker's today," she started, and fished for something beneath her cloak. "Just to pick something up for me. He made too much and gave me the extra stuff, but I don't like sweet things. Did you want it?"
Your heart stuttered when she casually held out a brown bag with two pastries inside. The bakery logo is distinct, too, as there are three in town; this one is the only one that can get proper supplies from top-side, so their stuff is good but pricey.
"That's nice of him," you said, preferring to hold the bag and inhale the scent of baked goods. "Are you sure you're okay with me having it?"
Sevika shrugged. "Like I said, it's not my thing. And I don't want them to go to waste in a bar where nobody's going to appreciate them."
You hummed over this. Sevika tilted her head questioningly.
"What were you doing at the bakers if you don't like sweet stuff?" you asked curiously.
Sevika blinked twice. "For- Bread," she choked out.
It was a long while before Sevika saw you again. It plagued her more than she expected it to. The leftovers from the baker's must have left a bad taste in your mouth. She should have just admitted she'd picked them up for you, not said you were a convenient afterthought.
The next time you finally did cross paths again, Sevika was in a foul mood. A long day of running collections for Silco and a few scuffles without breaks had left her hungry and bruised. All that, only to know she didn't have anything decent at home ready to eat. She'd have to cook with what she can find. Stew, probably…
You skipped off the last tram going between Top-side and the Undercity that day hidden beneath a raggedy cloak and clutching a brown paper bag. Sevika, who regretfully lived in the area, caught sight of you and bared her teeth. Then you pulled your hood down and Sevika quickly put them away.
"Not happy to see me?" you asked, relieved she slowed down to let you catch up.
"Thought you were a top-sider."
"Coming down at this time?"
"It's been a long day," she said bashfully. "What did you pick up? They didn't overcharge, did they?"
You nervously held the bag out for her. "Oh, I've got my shopping done. I just wanted to pick this up for you."
Sevika took the bag, incredulous, and peered inside. Sage? Spring onions? Rosemary? Is that long pepper and black garlic?!
"You like cooking with spices right?"
Sevika blinked and stuttered, her eyes darted between you and the holy contents. "I- Can't accept this," she said solemnly. "Don't go giving those asses up there a penny."
"Of course not!" you exclaimed indignantly. "I nicked all of it. Why would I give them a cent?"
Well, Sevika reasoned to herself, it would be rude to turn down such thoughtfully stolen gifts. "… Thanks."
Despite her battered condition, when Sevika made it home that evening, she found within herself the will to cook, and cook well.
"I know you prefer sweeter stuff, so I went light on the spices."
Sevika almost sounds apologetic when she offers you a bowl wrapped in paper to keep the warmth in. You're bewildered and flustered.
"I got them for you, you didn't have to make me anything!" you protested weakly, but the smell had managed to seep through, and your resolve had already weakened. "What is it? It smells like-"
Sevika couldn't help but feel proud at your mortified expression. "It's beef."
"Down here?! Sevika, that must be so expensive, I literally can't-"
"You'll eat it or I'll be offended. Worse, it'll all go to waste." Sevika tried not to come across as smug when you sifted the bowl in your hands around in a mix of horror and pure temptation. "For fuck's sake, I'll share it with if it bothers you so much."
That put you at ease, and it gave you a leg up. "Alright. But I want to get a drink for you too."
"Fine. I'll get the one after that."
"Fine, but I'll walk you home afterwards."
"Walk me home?"
Four years later, you sat confidently at one end of the kitchen table, pleased that the hours of work you'd put into creating a proper feast for Sevika when she got home that night had resulted in empty plates and endless praise.
"You're better with these spices than I am," Sevika declared once she'd finished cleaning the dishes and she'd put her arm around your waist.
"I didn't want to be outdone," you said simply. You wrapped your arms around her neck to pull her in closer. "Had people telling me you've gotten me a big gift. I won't have you showing me up."
Sevika smiled softly. She liked to grin at victories, such as when she won a poker game or got you a secret present you were unprepared but enthused for. It's when she's out of the competition that she smiled like this.
"I couldn't outdo you, darlin'," she murmured. She leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. "I was hoping to give it to you tomorrow when it's my turn to cook. You don't mind another feast?"
"I do love your cooking, but I'm guessing that's not the present," you said suspiciously.
Sevika hesitated for a moment. Finally she looked back at you, intending to tell you it would have to wait, but she was defeated immediately by that inquisitive spark in your eyes.
"Wait a minute," she pleaded, sitting you down on the living room sofa to get the room ready.
You observe curiously as she put on a cinnamon-scented wax melt (Janna, how long has she held onto that?) above a flaring candle, she dimmed the lights, and set a plate of sugar cookers she must have saved up for down on the coffee table.
Then she hung her cloak on a hook, exposing her lack of a left arm. That had happened one year ago. The presents you had showered upon her in food, care, and endless love had helped her immensely.
It did present a slight problem when she guided you up off the sofa to stand in the middle of the room and she got down on one knee. She reached in her pocket and held up a black velvet (velvet, for goodness sake, does the woman have no restraint?!) and tried to open it with her thumb.
She tried again. And again. She could do this just fine usually, but her chest was pumping like hell and her fingers trembled.
"Fuck," she swore.
You giggled put one hand on her shoulder. You wouldn't open it for her or she'd never forgive you. "Slow down, sweetheart."
Sevika paused to take a deep breath through her nose. This time, she flipped the box open properly, and you almost screamed.
"Is that actual silver?!"
"The ring itself is," she said calmly. The beginnings of a terribly smug grin threatened to overtake her. "The middle bit is diamond."
You stared at her. Awe? Shock? Horror?
Finally, your face morphed into determination.
"I'm going to get my hands on a ring for you so expensive and fancy you will die," you proclaimed confidently.
Both of you snicker, nod in a sense of 'challenge accepted', and drop the competition entirely so Sevika can slide the ring onto your finger. When she stood up again she was quick to kiss away your sudden tears, and you held her so tight neither of you moved for a long, long time.