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The blissful aromas of syrup and buttery pancakes entice me to the kitchen. My feet begin to move before my brain can fully comprehend my actions, and before I know it, I'm resting on the counter and observing Loid create a culinary masterpiece in the kitchen.
"Oh hey, you're up," he exclaims with a bright grin. "I was hoping the smell would bring you in here."
I carefully observe his chiseled back muscles contracting with each pan flip. The sight of him with his back turned toward me almost causes me to drool, and I have to put a finger to the corner of my lips to ensure I haven't actually done so. "I didn't know you could cook."
"Had to learn once Anya came along," he admits, now beating some eggs in a bowl. Realizing that I haven't responded, he continues chatting. "Anya's my daughter. She's 6 going on 30," he jokingly chuckles.
"Do you have a picture of her?" I inquire with a sense of intrigue. Even though I already know what she looks like, I still have to pretend like I didn't already stalk him.
"Yes, I have a photo of her taped to the computer in my office."
I push myself off the counter and proceed in the direction of his office, already familiar with his apartment's layout. Once inside, I observe that his workplace is devoid of decoration, excluding the image of his daughter on his computer, I suppose.
I was correct in my assumption that the little girl in the family portrait on his company's website is the same one in front of me. I always wondered why her bright pink hair differs from Loid and Yor's. Perhaps she's adopted.
"Hey Y/n, the food is almost ready," he exclaims as he bursts through the door.
"Thank you," I respond, my lips curling to form a smile. The expression on his face is somewhere between guilty and despondent, and I'm curious as to what transpired last night to make him feel this way. I honestly can't recall the events of last night, but I do remember returning with Loid and passing out on his bed.
I trail behind him as we return back to the kitchen and dining room area. "Can I ask you a question?" I whisper, my curiosity getting the better of me.
A quiet gulp escapes his throat before he answers. "Sure, what's up?"
"I understand that I might be overstepping, but what's your relationship with Yor and Anya?" I probe, watching as he takes out two plates from the cupboard.
He doesn't look at me once while he works. "What do you want to drink?"
I immediately respond, "Tea," while shooting daggers into his back for not answering my question.
"In the cabinet are an array of different flavors, you can take your pick," he says, turning on the kettle and opening the cabinet on his left.
"Instead of dodging the question, you could at least say you're not gonna answer me," I snarl, stomping in the direction he pointed toward.
