Or about Vox.
I had a beautifully sculpted Titus waiting for me in the other room. Hopefully, he didn’t mind my making breakfast for them all.
“How do I melt this cheese?” I asked, looking at Vox.
He visibly gagged again. “In a pan?” He grabbed a skillet from under the stove. The presence of familiar items lightened something inside of me, as did the familiarity of being in a kitchen surrounded by foods I mostly recognized.
Well, except the eggs had a strange purple consistency to them as I cracked them open.
And the cheese was very much not cheddar.
Sol and Vox both watched in obvious disgust as I mixed all the items together in the skillet, neither of them saying a word.
Right, so it didn’t look like an omelet at all when I finished. More of a purple hash with the strong aroma of vegetables. But the gooey cheese made me smile.
“Do you have any tomatoes?” I asked.
Both men looked ready to vomit.
“Never mind,” I said slowly, twisting my lips to the side. “Humans would call this—”
“What the hell is that smell?” an aristocratic voice demanded as Cyrus came into view wearing a suit from Exos’s wardrobe. Of course they wore the same size.
“Claire made breakfast,” Vox whispered, his nose scrunched up in clear disgust.
Cyrus came around the counter to study the pan. “That’
s repulsive, Claire.”
“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t make it for you,” I snapped, my amusement melting into immediate annoyance. “Actually, if none—”
Sol tapped the bar, cracking the solid granite. “I want to try it.”
Vox swung around on his stool and gaped at his best friend.
“What?” the Earth Fae said, looking a smidge chagrined. “It’s food. I like food.”
Cyrus snorted. “Such a simple-minded creature. I’ll pass.”
“Considering I didn’t make you any, that’s perfectly fine.” I grabbed a plate and cut a piece of the omelet off for Sol, then slid it across the counter to where he waited with a napkin.
He stared at it and shrugged. “Cool.” Then picked it up with his hands to take a bite.
“Uh, you’re supposed to use a fork…” I pinched my lips to the side, unsure of where they were located, but Sol seemed to be doing fine without a utensil.
In a blink, half the portion was gone. “It’s fucked up, but oddly good.” He held it out for Vox to take a bite.
And much to my surprise, he did, his wariness disappearing into one of wonder. “Huh. I never would have put those ingredients together.” He glanced at me. “Okay, Claire. I’ll have a plate.”
Pride prickled my chest as I cut him a slice and handed it to him—with a fork.
Except, like Sol, he ignored it.
The last two pieces were for me and Titus, leaving Cyrus alone. Where the jackass belonged. Not that he seemed to care as he prepared himself some sort of green, leafy shake. “Now that is repulsive,” I muttered, watching him feed a variety of plants into the blender.
“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t make it for you,” he parroted, narrowing his eyes.
I snorted, picking up the two plates I’d just prepared for myself and Titus. “Charming, as always.”