Russo looked at home here, and at the very least was impressed by the kitchen itself; the equipment was all in great condition, and there was certainly a lot of it. He moved to slide off his coat to hang it up on a nearby chair before he rolled up his sleeves– his arms were very well muscled.
He took the herbs in question, then the cutting board and the knife, after a quick wash of his hands.
“…I used to be a cook, you know.” He probably shouldn’t have divulged that much personal information, but honestly Russo was… excited.
Alice was in a full-on bustle, turning the oven on before grabbing him a cutting board and knife, and then hurrying over to the massive refrigerator to start digging through it. She emerged victorious a few minutes later.
His proclamation made her blink. “Really? That’s incredible! Did you own a restaurant, or help in a friends’ or something?”
It wasn’t like he needed the money -- obviously -- so he must have taken the job because he enjoyed it. She was shocked his family had let him.
“I’m a bit jealous. My family doesn’t even really like me using the kitchen. My father acts like it’s insulting for me to do things for myself. What sort of things did you like to cook?”