Rowan and Vorstag are enjoying wedded bliss, for the most part. It is a little sad when Rowan comes home to find her burly death machine parked in a chair. “Hello, my love,” he says wistfully. “Back from one of your many adventures?”
So then she gives him a little something to do, like fix her dinner.
“This is fresh,” he says. “I’ll have another one ready tomorrow.”

Uh, ‘fresh’? Is that anything like your definition of ‘clean’?
If he’s going to keep cooking, Rowan needs to get a dog.