The flames soon got bigger, and James stared at it with eyes wide, paralyzed. He vaguely heard Anthony swear and run off, and still he watched part of the wall burn. And then suddenly there was a splash of water that left the wood smoldering, but extinguished the fire. James' lip trembled. He began to cry.

The fire went out, so that meant that everything was fine again. Anthony was a bit too shocked about this all to even start crying — the thing that snapped him out of that state was that he heard James cry. Though Anthony was kind of angry at him, and rightfully so at that, he was physically incapable of ever being mean to children. "It's okay. Everything's fine, now," he said, placing his hands on James' shoulders. "everything's...okay. Nothing's on fire anymore." He was not the best at comforting children.

"I'm sorryyyyyy..." James sobbed. "I can make porridge and home and I never set owt on fire, I swear.... Don't be angry..." He wiped his snotty nose on his sleeve.

Anthony had every right to be angry, but he wasn't. He was just tired. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you," he said. He's never going to let James even go near the kitchen again, though. "it was....an accident. Accidents happen."

James sniffed and wiped his nose again. "Sorry I ruined the porridge..." He pointed at the oats that covered the wet coals.

Anthony had not yet omprehended the fact that he was going to be the one who had to clean all that up, until James had brought attention of it. "It's fine," he repeated. "you know...why don't we...just...get out of the kitchen? We can try again with the porridge sometime else, okay?"

"Okay..." Another time. Did that mean he was going to be adopted. James would super use this against Anthony. He walked back to the bedroom, lay down on the bed and fell asleep almost instantly with that happy thought in mind.

Anthony was very glad that James just listened to him and left the kitchen. He wasn't glad about everything else, though. Having to clean up this mess, try and tend to his own wounds, take care of this child, talk to Elijah tomorrow about this all — yeah, his life wasn't very ideal, right now. He wasn't sure if he could even manage all this, but he was willing to try. ...With another sigh, Anthony set himself to cleaning up the mess in his kitchen. At least that'll keep him occupied.

After a little while, James came to the kitchen. "Is it the mornin'?"

Anthony had managed to clean up the goddamn mess in the kitchen, and was now just lingering there, trying to figure out why his life is how it is. He was almost ready to just put an end to that lamenting and try to go to sleep, when James returned to the kitchen yet again. "No, it isn't," he responded. Though whether that was true or not was questionable — he had basically lost track of time entirely. "I don't think it is, at least." He was hoping it wasn't morning. The longer it isn't morning, the longer he can go without having to go and talk to Elijah about this.