They'd had refrigerators in the 20s, but except in the summer, no one really worried about food spoiling before it was eaten. They hadn't worried about a lot of things concerning food that people did nowadays, honestly. Meat and eggs had to be cooked to a certain degree, where he remembered his ma cooking eggs runny, and eating raw hamburger off the counter while she prepared meals. It was just one more small thing that, added with all the other small things, made him stand out as someone different.

It saddened, and angered, him that she'd been forced to go through all of that, when she hadn't deserved any of it. But that was how he'd always been; getting angry on other people's behalves, wanting to stand up for them, even when no one else would. She was here now, though, and Steve was determined that, even though she'd had to go through that, it would be something that, eventually, wouldn't need to be considered before she did something as simple as sitting in the sun. As horrible an analogy as it was, it was like his food allergies - it had taken him time to get used to the fact that he didn't have to check every single dish for all its ingredients.

Steve was distracted from responding to her comment on freckles as she stretched out beside him, her bare legs quite a sight to see. It took him a moment to tear his eyes away, and when he did, he rolled them at her. "I think I'd look like a working class Mick who couldn't keep himself out of the sun."