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Bo got confused for the brief second of the cushion of air that caught him, only for it to disappear and he gently fall onto the ground.

Bo sat up, shook his head, and then stood up, brushing off the dirt and grass from his outfit. "Uhmmm, sure!" Bo didn't really hear all of what Othello said, because he was too caught up in the moment of losing to a butterfly. Then he wandered off, trying to find the same butterfly.

He didn't find that one, but he found another, a grasshopper, and decided to chase after that, trying to be more careful this time.

Bo then managed to catch it in his hands. "Othello! I caught it!" Bo announced with a gasp, then he approached Othello, with the grasshopper cupped in his hands. He opened his hands up a little to peek inside, then giggled, closing his hands again. "You wanna see it?" Bo raised a brow, holding his cupped hands up, the sound of the grasshopper chirping inside.

He seemed genuinely happy at this moment, as if nothing had ever happened. Maybe because the outdoors, running around in it, made him feel free, and not confined, like he felt in the cage at the cathedral.

"What is it that you caught?" Othello asked. He leaned over to look. "I am unfamiliar with the insects of your world. What is this little green thing?" He kept his hands to himself, having no interest in touching a random bug. Even demons had their limits in what they were willing to do or put up with, especially with creepy-crawlies.

"It's a grasshopper. They hop around in grass and make funny noises." Bo said calmly, smiling down at the grasshopper in his hands. "It kind of tickles.." He then giggled a bit, and let it go, letting it hop off somewhere else in the garden.

He waved goodbye to the grasshopper, then looked at Othello.

"We can go in for food now, if y' want." Bo put his hands behind his back and warmly smiled at the demon.

"If you desire to spend time out here alone, I suppose you are old enough to do so, but I think it is time that I begin exploring the options for our evening meal," Othello said, turning and gliding toward the house. "I am not well versed in the matters of this world's culinary options, but I have discovered that you do have food that may be delivered to your door. This is pleasing. Providing there is something worth eating. However, responsibility - and my intestines - dictate that I should at least endeavor to make something here first."

Bo nodded, he looked around the area, his head turned, not making eye contact with Othello as he looked around, thinking about staying outside, but then felt a flinch in his stomach, and a flutter in his chest. His expression faded a little, "Uhm, actually I rather would go inside. Plus, I can watch you cook, if you don't mind!" Bo quickly tried to play off his feeling of anxiety.

It seemed he felt safer within the house, than outside. What if someone climbed over the, honestly a bit tall, wall and took Bo away?

Sure, probably no one would be that desperate to climb over a wall, even the cultists just broke into the house rather than climbed the wall.

But Bo wasn't taking chances. Besides, maybe watching Othello cook would be fun? And maybe he could learn something?

He made no response as he led the way back into the house. He did not particularly care if Bo followed him or not. As far as he was concerned, Bo was just kind of there. What he did was only barely Othello's concern. Othello's job was to ensure Bo was not alone, kidnapped, wasting away from starvation, or death by dirt and grime. So far, he seemed to be succeeding. Bo had not yet asphyxiated on his food and was getting some sort of education.

Now it was time to explore the kitchen. The water in the fridge had begun to leak again. He refroze it with a flick of his finger. He did not have the capacity to deal with that right now. Maybe another day. He started digging through the refrigerator and the cupboards, trying to identify what he found. He did find an entire fish waiting in the freezer, and it appeared to be good still. The freezer had done its preservation job. The same could not be said of many other items in the refrigerator portion. Some of the things spelled awful! Or perhaps he just had no idea what he was doing. That was also a possibility. He set the frozen fish aside and continued digging.

Eventually, after much grumbling and swearing in a language Bo did not speak, Othello located everything he felt was needed for a fish dinner. The fish he defrosted with a spell. Letting something defrost naturally was always the better option, but he was in a hurry. He could deal with a couple of tiny ice shards that would form in the fishy interior. He started putting things together, and after a while had a lovely fish fillet dinner with a creamy white sauce, asparagus spears, and roasted baby potatoes. He'd only used a little bit of magic here and there, mostly letting the machines do the work for him, although he did have to look up how to properly use a stove. Still, once everything was laid out on the table, he felt rather proud of himself.

Bo watched, sitting in one of the table chairs he had pulled out and placed in the corner. He wanted to make sure he was out of Othello's way, but also wanted to see all the cool magic things Othello did. Bo wasn't even really that fond of fish, or vegetables for that matter, a bit of a picky eater, but seeing Othello use a bunch of magic and worked so hard on it, Bo supposed he'd eat it.

He watched Othello place the food on the table with a look of pride, and Bo smiled at him.

It kind of reminded him of how his dad would react to cooking something, without burning it. (Y'see, The father wasn't very good at cooking, and often triggered the smoke alarm and had to open a window to get rid of all the smoke, and he'd have to grab the fire extinguisher from the closet to put out a meal that was on fire in the oven. But on rare occasions, the father managed to cook things without it burning or becoming inedible. Maybe not on the level of a fancy fish fillet dinner, but it was good enough.)

Thinking about his father, reminded Bo of his mother, and what lovely desserts she cooked. A specific one, Panna Cotta, which was an italian dish she had learned from a cookbook that her husband had brought back from a trip to back to his home-place in Italy, as a gift for her. Bo sighed a bit, leaning back in the chair, feeling a little sad thinking about them. But how could he not? He used to see them both almost everyday, and then suddenly they were ripped away from him, forever.

Bo decided to try and focus on Othello, and wait for dinner to be announced, done, and ready to eat.

"Come. Sit and eat, child," Othello instructed Bo. "Cold fish is not something I typically enjoy eating. Fish is not something I eat often at all. There is not much fish where I am from."

He swept into the chair at the head of the table. and picked up his fork. "I do not have much hope for what else can be made from that mess you call a refrigerator. I will do what I can, but I am afraid we shall have to do a thorough cleaning and restocking."

Bo got out of the chair, slid the chair back over to the table, then sat down in it again, and began eating. "What kind of foods do you eat from where you are then?" Bo asked curiously, wanting to know more of Othello's world. "Why is there hardly no fish there, too?" Bo added.

"Well, where I live, exactly, there are no bodies of water, and, therefore, no fish," Othello explained. "Other areas have fish, but it is difficult to get where I life. However, where I live, we have Planar Turtles, and they are truly delicious! They swim through the sands and come up at night to moon bathe. Also, we have nutterwines. They are a little difficult to cook properly as they can easily turn as hard as rubber, but when a skilled chef prepares them, the meat melts like butter in your mouth. They pair well with nice green cat hair salad."

Bo giggled, finding all the things that Othello was listing, a bit silly sounding. He smiled, "Those sound really fascinating.. We have turtles here on Gaia, but they swim through water, and sometimes crawl around on sand. I think they sunbathe instead of moon bathe." Bo said, "I've never seen one in person, but I've seen them in books."

"Uhh, if I can find the book, I can show you! Maybe they look like Planar turtles!" Bo suggested. "Unless you don't care, which is fine too. I understand." Bo added, he seemed to be enjoying bits and pieces of Othello's world.

"If you would like, then, yes, I suppose we can look at the turtles in your book," Othello agreed midly. He was a bit distracted, wondering if he'd made a dinner-sized meal for lunch. How bothersome. Oh well. They could have a lunch-sized dinner when the time came.

"After we eat, I'll go get the book, or try to, I'm not sure where it is, but I found my study books by myself so maybe I can find that turtle book too!" Bo said, even if Othello seemed a bit distracted, wondering about the size of the meal he had created. "Oh, back to the food conversation, uhm, have you heard of panna cotta?" He asked, the 'panna cotta' part being said in almost fluid Italian, accent and all. "It's a dessert my mum used to make, it's so good, and sweet." Bo added, almost forgetting to eat the food that was right in-front of him, and he seemed to realize this and grabbed his fork and ate a bite of it.

"No, I have never heard of it," Othello replied, wondering why Bo suddenly sounded funny just for that little bit. "I suppose it is something you wish for me to try to learn to make? I suppose I may give it a try at some point." He sighed quietly, missing home and familiar food. "Yes, I am sure you will be able to find your turtle book. You are an able boy, after all."

Bo thought for a moment, pausing, then nodded, "Yes! Well, I mean, if you'd like to learn how to make it. I'd.. I'd appreciate it. It's from a cookbook." He said, stumbling over his words, trying not to sound demanding or anything. " I can try and find that book too, I think it's in my mum's room though and not the library."

He smiled a bit at the small compliment about being able enough to find the turtle book.

Why would a cookery book be in a bedroom? How odd. Othello decided not to ask. He doubted Bo would have much of an answer for that. "Speaking of your mother's room, if I am to stay with you, I refuse to continue sleeping on the couch like some sort of vagrant. Therefore, seeing as your parents will no longer need it, perhaps I may avail myself of their room. Unless there is another, better room you might point me toward?"

Bo's expression faded a little, "Oh, well.. uhm.." He didn't really like the thought of Othello staying in his parent's bedroom, but.. Othello was right, they definitely wouldn't be using it. "I suppose you can use it, there is a guest room, but it's kind of messy and used mainly for storage, we didn't get many visitors, and when we did, it was only for a few hours and they left shortly after." Bo stated.

"Just please be careful, don't mess anything of theirs up. Okay?" Bo said with a forced smile, trying not to look so sad.

Othello rolled his eyes skyward and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Very well. If I use this 'guest bedroom,' may I make it my own? I would rather not attempt to exist in a mausoleum." He knew Bo needed time to process, but he callously did not see the point in keeping a space like a bedroom like some sort of giant time capsule. It was inefficient and wasteful, but if there was another room, he supposed he could condescend to a smaller, lesser room.

Bo blinked, then slowly, softly nodded. "I.. suppose you can." He said quietly.

Bo went silent for a moment then frowned. "You probably miss your real home."
"..I'm sorry." Bo flinched, looking down to avoid eye-contact.

"Of course I do," Othello replied as he finished off his last bite.  "It would not be much of a home if I did not, now would it?  It is frightfully boring at times, but not so bad overall.  Still, I volunteered for this assignment.  It was my choice.  I expected it to be more of a holiday than it is turning out to be, but that is the luck of the summons, I suppose."  He stood and gathered up the dishes.  "I am going to clean these.  You may watch or run along to find your books.  I shall be finished shortly, and then we can return to your studies."