Qrow.

Chapter 26 | Breakfast

The manor was still in lock down but life had returned to normal, for the most part. Paris was rather thankful to be back to his average morning routine. He hummed quietly to himself as he cut up a peach into small pieces. The sunshine was just starting to rise over the hills. This early in the morning, no one else was up. 

He gently set the slices of peach on a clean white plate. Paris turned around to the stove behind him. He placed a pan on one of the burners, igniting it. As he wandered over to the fridge, he manged to not hear Ryan walk into the kitchen.

"Good morning." Their newest employee greeted him.

Paris jumped, almost dropping the clay bowl of eggs in his hand. "Good morning." He smiled happily, "You startled me."

"I'm sorry. I have a habit of doing that to people when I don't mean to." He replied. 

"I've noticed." He gently set the eggs down beside the fridge and glanced at Ryan over his shoulder, "Would you like some coffee?" 

Ryan felt relieved to hear that magical word, "I'd love some. I haven't had any in so long."

"Hm, I imagine it's hard to find where you live. Let me start a new brew, though." He pulled the pot from the maker and poured it's current contents into the kettle to keep them warm. "This batch is rather... Strong, for an American."

He raised his eyebrow, "For an American?"

"Hm, yes," He snickered lightly, "French coffee is very strong compared to American coffee." Paris finished settling up the coffee marker to create a fresh batch. He returned to making breakfast, cracking open an egg over a heated pan. 

"I wouldn't know. I've never had the pleasure of visiting France. Maybe you could teach me some more about the culture." Ryan replied, "I'd love to have an excuse to talk to you more. I'm sorry we haven't gotten to talk since the other night, but work's been keeping me busy."

"I'm the one that should be apologizing. I ran out on you. And work's been taking up my time too, but truthfully I was a little scared to talk to you." He turned around towards the counter, pan in hand, and transferred the sunny side up egg onto the plate with peaches.

"Scared?" He chuckled softly, "Don't ever be scared to talk to me, okay? I'll always be here to listen. You look really good with your hair up like that, by the way."

A blush washed over the chef's face. He turned back around to return to his job and to hide his embarressment. "I, um, I just do it for work, but thank you. What do you like for breakfast?"

"I'll eat whatever you're making. What are you making, by the way?" He asked.

The kitchen door swung open, Angela walking in. She picked up the prepared plate on the counter along with a freshly poured glass of milk. "What smells so good?" She gushed.

He snickered, "I've got something in the oven for the girls. A new recipe I'm trying; Pumpkin french toast muffins. And, to answer your question, Ryan, I have to make quite a lot of things in the mornings. We are blessed with having very diverse culture in the house, meaning I have many different pallets to cater to. As you can see, Miss Angela prefers to eat like a cat from Boston."

"I am a cat from Boston. Well, Salem." She replied.

"My point exactly." Paris grabbed the new brew of coffee and poured it into a black mug, "Would you like some blood?"

"That'd be nice, actually. Thank you." Ryan answered. "So, I'm guessing you and Micah must eat pretty light, then? Since, don't the French eat super dainty?"

He opened the fridge and pulled out what looked like a corked wine bottle. Paris set the bottle and coffee in front of Ryan to allow him to pour his own ratio. "I do, yes. Micah is actually Cajun. Which is technically French, but they're... How do I put this in English? They're païen, em... Not so dainty, I guess I could say."