It’s simple, in the grand scheme of things, but Xiangling’s praise makes warmth rise to her cheeks all over again, and it’s all Keqing can do to maintain the illusion of not being terribly, horribly weak to her girlfriend.

“It wasn’t difficult, really…” she manages, tucking her hands behind her back and watching as Xiangling begins to set up her wood and wok. Briefly, she wonders if she should’ve offered to gather some for her— to save her the trouble of having to lug kindling around— but that’s an easy thought to brush off, at least. “I have worked up an appetite, though.”

Blame that on the fact that finding her special chili took so long, probably.

Anything else she might’ve had to say on that subject is temporarily lost when Xiangling’s… faithful companion… wanders over from wherever he’d been. While Keqing would like to believe she’s a rather mature person, she can’t help the little crease that forms between her brows at the sight of Guoba. She does, however, nod at him in a silent sort of acknowledgement.

Hopefully he has the willpower not to rob her of Xiangling’s precious home-cooking. That might be a crime even more severe than eating her Golden Shrimp Balls.

“Remind me, Xiangling… did we bring a bedroll for Guoba to use?”

… he isn’t going to be sharing with them, is he? Or maybe he’ll just sleep on the ground…?