Wilson had made a beeline from the library as soon as he'd left his adopted brother in law and his mate down in the Leaf.

Reaching into his pocket he withdrew his keyring and applied himself to opening the special locked cabinet that Aziraphale kept where ever they went and then began to scan through the titles of the books on the second shelf.

"There has to be something," he muttered. "Oh, do stop laughing if you don't want to be helpful in the translations!"

[ooc: For any who are researching the Phale/Cole problem. ;)]

Wilson had handwavily returned Lana's phone call and set up for her to come by the house on Saturday morning.

Shooing Aziraphale off to the study, the young doctor was still reestablishing his domain in the kitchen and had a pot of tea on. He was also making grilled cheese sandwiches.

[ooc: For Lana please!]

Wilson set his hands on his hips and peered into the softsided duffle bag he had almost completely packed.

"It's always a bugger when I don't know where exactly I'm going," he said almost to himself and then decided that a few sweatshirts probably wouldn't be amiss so he headed for his closet to grab some. Probably Phale's.

[ooc: For the fake mate to establish Wilson's hiatus]

Monday had dawned and soon found Wilson cooking, as was tradition on Labor Day!

He was making a mixture of some new creole dishes with some old favorites, including a half pig grilled out on the smoker he'd talked Aziraphale into putting out on the patio.

Certainly it was more food than the angel and the doctor would ever eat on their own but the back door to the kitchen stood open and inviting, in case anyone happened to wander by to investigate all the smells coming from the house.

There was even a keg of beer ... yes, Wilson had finally allowed Aziraphale to indulge in another keg.

[ooc: Post is open! ]

Wilson was beginning to wonder if his charms had been replaced by an old book, given how intently Aziraphale had been studying it recently.

Of course, he knew this was not the case but it made him grin to think of the needling fodder he'd have at hand when Phale finally surfaced from his reading.

Today, however, he was working on putting together a nice cold lobster gaspatcheo soup to take over to the angel later in the day. Wilson, with a bit of help from Phale, had actually managed to pull together a little garden with tomatoes (lots of tomatoes) cucumbers, bell peppers and some hot peppers so everything he was using today was freshly picked.

Except the lobsters, those he'd let a fisherman catch and then bought off the man.

He'd used an early start to the day to steam the lobsters so that the stove wasn't on when it got warmer and now he was busy breaking into the steamed bugs. The back door stood open, the screen letting all sorts of nice scents waft out into the lazy Milieux morning air.

[ooc: For a phone call and a visit in particular and those threads locked to those folks but otherwise the post, like the door, is wide open!! :D]

Wilson was attempting to make gumbo.

The first four attempts at a proper rou had ended up in the trash, the mortal cursing up a blue streak each time. The fifth attempt had been deemed passable but not for gumbo but on the sixth attempt, Wilson felt he finally had it right.

And so he was making gumbo and dirty rice. The scent of both dishes was probably spilling out into the yard and street beyond as the young doctor had opened up the windows and the back door stood invitingly open, screen door releasing all sorts of wonderful smells out into the lazy Milieux night.

Wilson himself was chewing on the end of a cheroot and sipping a glass of chilled white wine as he slowly added the last few ingredients to the rich stew. It was just about perfect.

[ooc: Open and full of yummy smells!]

It seemed a nice night to sit out on the porch of the old house and enjoy the cooler weather that came with the setting of the southern summer sun. Aziraphale was inside, puttering with his inventory and had shooed the doctor out to relax for a bit after dinner.

So, Wilson settled into the porch swing and set it to motion with a kick of his foot. He had a beer in one hand the other lightly braced on his folded knee as he swung lazily back and forth.

[ooc: Open!]

Wilson was still tired, suffering the after effects of the very disease he'd spent the past 18 months battling in Uganda.

It had come as a nasty surprise to both himself and his fellow physicians when Wilson had begun to show the symptoms of HAT(Sleeping Sickness) since he was innoculated against it. With Aziraphale already reassigned it had been up to Wilson to ferret out the cause of his innoculation failing.

One of the many Pestilence demons that Aziraphale had been battling in this unstable country had made an oppertunistic attack upon Wilson within days of Aziraphale's reassignment and reversed the effects of Wilson's innoculation. It had taken everything in Wilson to hold it together long enough to banish the demon after which he'd presented himself for the still toxic treatment regiment that their little hospital could provide.

He'd refused the newer treatment due to the lack of funds to replace what would have been used. He was healthy -at least he had been before the attack- fairly strong and had a back-up in the form of a guardian angel if need be and the people who came to the hospital were often the old or the young who needed the extra care from the newer medications.

So for 72 hours he'd been under the influence of the toxic medications despite their unstable reputation and now that he'd come out of the symptomatic coma, Wilson decided it was time to call Aziraphale.

He knew his beloved mate was just gonna love this.

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