Teren inclined his head curiously as Rose failed to finish her initial thought. While the manner of his gaze prompted her to continue, he didn’t verbally encourage it. Instead, he settled for what she decided to say in an effort to recover from whatever she had decided to omit. “That might be a book I’d sit down to read,” he commented half-heartedly. The acknowledgment Teren gave to Rose’s next comment was a hum of thought. He couldn’t see himself being wildly surprised if Rose managed to disprove his own theories he’s managed to form about her, but nonetheless, it would still be surprising to, at the very least, a mild degree.

Grateful Rose had given into his desire to withdraw from the horses for the meantime, and maybe forever if he sat down to pray, the young man watched her for a quiet moment as she bid the horse a farewell pat. His blue gaze lingered on the beast before him before he complied with Rose’s gesture to follow her. As she began to elaborate in detail as they walked about when she had moved out here and how she came to be around horses, Teren at least gave her the courtesy of fully listening. There wasn’t anything remarkably notable in anything she said, only the still present lack of mentioning a mom, but that was far from something he would press on. A snort of disagreement is how Teren chose to counter Rose’s suggestion of him enjoying anything that had to do with riding a horse. If it meant missing out on the experience of feeling like he was flying, he could live with that. People were meant to stay on the ground anyway.

As they seemed to have reached wherever Rose had led them, a curious expression was thrown her way from Teren. In return, he was given a vague answer, but with a roll of his eyes, he followed behind her. The journey to the kitchen was uneventful at the very least. A benefit to this place, Teren deduced, might be the food if it tasted as good as it smelled. As Rose conversed with who he assumed to be some kind of chef, Teren kept to her side, though not without emitting a stand-offish aura toward the larger man, especially at his pointed look. Teren had half a mind to walk out when it came to the horse judging comment though. Could people here be any more unbearable? Actually, Teren wished not to find out so soon.

“Absolutely n-” Teren’s refusal was entirely cut off by Rose’s peppy acceptance to do chores, and his disapproval was not spared in the glare he gave her. It was punishment enough to just be in the middle of nowhere, it was torture to know he would be continuously encouraged to be around things he had no care for. But chores? That was just ridiculous. Taking the bowl from Rose, he reminded himself of the dire consequences if he acted out in the way he was dying to right now. “You’re the one who volunteered, I don’t remember consenting to helping,” he said, placing the bowl on the counter with purposeful roughness. “Don’t I have rights here?” He added in a snarky fashion before crossing his arms and watching Rose.

“Besides, my culinary skills only go so far as to know how to cook things in a microwave. And I don’t know how to properly set a table, so I guess you’re on your own. But don’t worry, I’ll watch and learn.” Teren assured with a faux smile of humility, taking a step back and refusing to do much other than observe. He didn’t think Rose could actually force him to do more than what he agreed too anyway. It didn’t help that he also felt out of place around people who knew what to do in this kitchen as if the tasks being performed were the simplest in the world. These were tasks that Teren had no experience in, and he would rather be as difficult as possible than look lost. That feeling of misplacement was already becoming too familiar with him in such a short amount of time and he would rather not acquaint himself with the feeling much more for the rest of his day. If he could help it, anyway.

For a moment, Teren stared at Reagan with nothing short of both vexation and amusement. There were so many biting comments he already had idly sitting on his tongue to respond with, though he observed the exchange between Reagan and Rose first. Of course, she acted in his defense only for her own benefit, proving his philosophy of cynicism more true than it had already been. “It’s okay, I can’t find it in me to be offended by a middle-school-level insult.” He commented with a shrug, as if disappointed Reagan's comment wasn't cutting enough. It’s not like he envied a man who cooked for people with such pathetic lives, as Reagan had put so kindly, but Teren supposed not everyone could be tens in the world. Not that he would suggest he was a ten, but he was close enough on his own scale to be satisfied with where he stood. Rather than stirring the pot of the room anymore than he could, and had the impulse to, his attention refocused itself on Rose.

It’s not like he considered himself completely incompetent in simple things like making a salad or setting a table, but Teren experimented through trial and error. He did not feel comfortable enough to experiment on his own here without feeling a sense of judgment breathing down his neck though. In one of the worst ways, Teren was trying to force instruction out of Rose so he could watch, learn, and repeat later if he felt like it. Most people, he knew, would just ask nicely for guidance and help, but that wasn’t exactly up his alley of doing things. A part of him wondered just how uncommon it might be for someone to never have set a table or things of the sort before. From what he remembered, even when his parents were together, there was no such thing as eating a meal as a family at a table, let alone in the same room. So it’s not like he had familial memories to go off of.

As Rose began to give him the spiel of a saying he had never heard before, Teren raised his brows expectantly, seeing if there was more to it. There was that one saying he knew about teaching a man to fish if he recalled correctly, but he didn’t really see that being applicable to the moment. However, the threat of his dinner was a spark to a fire better left unprovoked. With a tight clench in his jaw and a drilling gaze focused on Rose, he tapped his foot in agitation and mentally convinced himself restraint was a concept worth practicing if it meant leaving this place as soon as possible. “I’m not food motivated to obey like an animal,” he replied curtly after waiting for Rose to get out of the fridge with the rest of what was needed for the salad. “If I knew the evolution of guidance here was threats, I would have just taken the prison sentence and spared myself wasted time,” he muttered under his breath, before stepping forward to the bowl and the contents that were inherently supposed to create a salad.

“Don’t confuse my actions with compliance,” Teren initially warned as he took over in a manner more calm than what was written on his face. “Just tell me what I need to do, so next time, I don’t need you.” He stated coolly, blue eyes briefly traveling over what was in front of him. It seemed simple enough, but he was also careful of getting too cocky with things he’s never done before. It was irritating in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time to feel ignorant in doing such menial tasks. However, it was easier to channel those varying degrees of anger and internal discontent onto Rose.

Teren had initially given Rose the benefit of the doubt as he waited during her lengthy pause for instruction, though as those few seconds evolved into a lengthy moment, he turned his head toward her with an impatiently raised brow. The surprise test she announced was something he did not foresee coming, especially if one were to judge by his confused countenance. The smile she tried to cement her words with fell flat with Teren who pushed a sigh of dismay through his nostrils. “I didn’t think salad creation dictated creativity levels,” he replied, shaking his head as he turned to look back down at the bowl in front of him. “I must have missed that portion of the IQ test I took in high school.” He added sarcastically, surveying what was in front of him thoughtfully. Now that he was really thinking about it, he couldn’t even recall the last time he had even eaten a salad.

Teren, confidently blind to his concoction of leaves and various other nutritious vegetation, combined that and questionable seasonings to it following the dressing. If he had jerky on hand, he would have added it. It would look more appetizing to him if it was less green, but he figured that was generally the tell-tale signature of most salads. Pausing his contemplation of how much dressing was too much with the interruption of Rose’s voice, he flicked his blue gaze in her direction. A subtle scowl followed closely behind her comparison to dealing with cats. Though just as he had opened his mouth to make a remark about her comparing him to an animal, she spoke again, prompting him to close his mouth in a frown as she addressed what he was going to say before he could actually say it.

Rose’s continuation of the symbolism the people here had as parents did not resonate well with Teren. No longer holding her gaze as his own drifted back toward the salad bowl, he scoffed. “I feel so cared for its overwhelming,” he commented with dry sarcasm, purposefully not wanting to get into any real conversation that surrounded parents - the mere idea was aggravating. Stepping to the side and gesturing with his hands toward the salad, he looked back toward Rose. “If I pass and prove my creative worth, will I have earned the right to eat tonight?” He mocked while simultaneously returning his arms to a crossed position over his chest.

“How much do people know about me here?” Teren asked after an interlude of silence on his part, contemplating the choice of words that have so far been used in his presence by people he’s just met. The other mentor he had more or less met with Rose earlier seemed surprised by him, and Teren had written it off, assuming they may have only had a vague grasp on his record. But what Reagan said particularly is what bothered him. How would he know if he deserved to be locked up or not? Unless Reagan just assumed anyone who came through the ranch was trash to pity that deserved to be in jail, but he reacted strongly in Teren’s opinion. “How much do you know about me?” He prompted, his expression falling into something detached and unreadable as he locked his gaze on Rose’s reaction to his questions.