|| The Harbinger's Guest ||

|| Part 6 ||

Scaramouche returned about half an hour later, empty handed. Aether had been slightly excited to see what Snezhnaya's cuisine looked like, and was... sorely disappointed. He sat up in his bed as Scaramouche crossed his arms, a satisfied smirk on his lips. Aether noticed how Scaramouche's attire was his regular one, minus the hat and plus long, black sleeves and black skin-tight pants below his regular bottoms. Aether doubted he wore them for the extra warmth, but it seemed a little more accustomed to the Snezhnayan winter-wear. Which, was just Snezhnayan wear.

"I thought you were getting something?" Aether grumbled, his eyes narrowing.

"I have," Scaramouche replied. "But I refuse to deliver it to you personally. I already have to watch you, so I'm not going to be your servant as well."

His pride had left Aether hungry. Aether would not allow that excuse.

"Well, what if... I drop dead?" Aether complained, crossing his arms.

"From starvation? Don't be stupid," Scaramouche replied.

Aether mumbled something unintelligible. Scaramouche rolled his eyes.

Moments later, a woman dressed in maid-like attire walked in, carrying a tray of food. Aether's expression lit up, and he instinctively looked to his side. No, Paimon wasn't here, already in a daze just at the thought of food. His good mood sank slightly. Scaramouche thanked the woman as she placed the tray on the bed. She left swiftly after.

"There. Enjoy," Scaramouche said scornfully.

Aether stared down at the various dishes. "What are these?"

"Don't tell me you're a picky eater," Scaramouche replied, his tone sharpening.

"I'm not. I've just never seen this before," Aether admitted.

"Well, it's not all from Snezhnaya. There's some beetroot soup here. There's this grey stuff, from Fontaine," Scaramouche described, pointing at a strange dessert in a glass dish, which seemed to have a Mousse-like consistency.

"Why is it grey?" Aether questioned, unsure.

"The chef recommended it," Scaramouche shrugged.

"Have you tried it?" Aether asked.

"I don't like sweet things," Scaramouche answered.

"Alright..." Aether responded, taking the silver spoon from the side and dipping it into the 'grey stuff'. "What do you like then?"

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow. "If you're trying to make conversation, I'm afraid you're asking the wrong person."

"Just answer the question," Aether drawled, cautiously trying the dessert. There were hints of vanilla and cream in the mouthful as the flavours met his tongue.

Paimon would have loved this, Aether thought.

Scaramouche sighed. "I'm not picky, but I prefer tea. Without sugar and milk. Just tea."

"Why?" Aether asked, picking up the red-coloured bowl of soup and holding it to his chest.

"Don't pry," Scaramouche warned Aether. "You've stepped out of line enough times today."

"So, it's personal?" Aether chuckled.

"Quiet." Scaramouche snapped.

Aether sighed. "Well, what are we doing now?"

"Whatever you feel like," Scaramouche answered in the most uninterested way possible.