Hot. Sticky. It felt like too much.
But Boe continued, because he didn't want to offend Besus. After all, he had gone to so much trouble to prepare breakfast. Even if he did use too much honey on his toast.
"How's the omelet?" Besus smiled at Boe, momentarily looking away from the stove.
"Hmm. Mm." Boe's muffled voice was of a stuffed mouth. He swallowed his bite of toast. "I'm sorry Daddy, I'll try it right now."
Boe was not a child, no matter the way he felt around Besus. His knowledge was vast, and he had experienced more of both the rougher and finer things in life than most.
Yet nothing could have prepared him for that omelet.
"W-what did you put in here?" he coughed out, barely managing to swallow his bite.
"Frankincense. A dash of myrrh." Besus paused. "Oh, and nutmeg." Boe eyed him warily.
"Anything else?"
"Made with love?" Besus smiled sheepishly.
"What sort of love?"
Hot. And sticky.
