"Less, most of the time." His smile's gone a little crooked at the thought; he misses the fish sometimes, but it's been a while since he trusted himself to be able to take care of another animal. "If you're out of the game for a while, they can take care of themselves. Gardening's as hard as you want it to be."

If you're hands-off in a years-long depressive funk, then so be it. The plants survive, or they don't, but there's less guilt about failing to keep them going. In some ways, they aren't as rewarding, but the risk's lower, too. It all evens out.

He finishes off his rosé, feeling pleasantly warm from it. Neither of them have cleaned their plates, but this isn't Leave it to Beaver. "I'll show you around after we put the food away."