Blood and Snow

Chapter Thirty-Six

[Day Thirteen]

Mason groaned and got out of his bed. Thankfully, he was alone this time. 'Crazy woman.' he thought, 'She's not going to touch another glass of alcohol again.'

Maybe he'll have to make it a new rule. No alcohol for the guests. 'Well, she's not a guest anymore.' he reminded himself. Okay then, the new rule is no alcohol for Belle. Mason got dressed in his normal outfit, then pulled on his trench coat and adjusted his scarf. On one wall there was a short mirror on top of a dresser. He opened one of the top drawers and pulled out a comb. The man messed with his hair, eventually getting it the way he liked. Mason smiled. His mother loved doing his hair every morning. She would try something new to mess with him, like a mullet or a mohawk, before eventually putting it in the same style as always.

Mason's smile softened. Those were the good old days. Childhood innocence and the care of a loving mother. Oh, how he missed it. Too bad his father was such an asshole after his mother died. Maybe he would've stayed innocent for a bit longer. Maybe he wouldn't have realized that the world wasn't all sunshine and rainbows for a few more years.

Mason stopped that train of thought, already feeling himself getting worked up over the past. His father was long gone. There was nothing to do that would make him feel better. Nothing. Mason slapped the comb down on the dresser and felt the sting of the impact of his hand. "Lord, I don't need this right now!" he growled. Mason stopped again and drew out a long sigh. "What I need is a cup of coffee before I get a caffeine headache." he muttered. The man turned and left his room, closing the door a bit harshly as he walked away. After a long walk, Mason arrived in the dining hall. Luckily no one was there to see him in this state. 'Sierra might be in the kitchen, though.' he thought. She wouldn't really care though, would she? She's seen him like this before anyways. He would stalk into the kitchen in the morning here or there and make a pot of coffee with a frustrated scowl on his face. Dismissing his train of thought again, Mason walked into the kitchen. Just like he thought, Sierra was there. She was pouring a freshly made pot of coffee into a big mug. "Right on time." she said without looking at him. Mason was confused at first, but understood quickly. "You knew I'd be here first thing in the morning?" he questioned. Sierra hummed as she finished pouring the coffee. She set the pot down next to Baron's and carefully handed Mason the hot mug. "I figured that you'd have a bad morning, so I prepared some coffee in case you stopped by." she told him. "You weren't wrong." Mason admitted, taking a sip. The heat didn't bother him that much, so long as he doesn't take too much at a time. The last thing he wanted was to burn his tastebuds this early in the morning. "What's for breakfast?" he asked her. "Breakfast muffins and toast for you bitter-is-better weirdos. Danishes and muffins for anyone who likes pastries. Triple chocolate pancakes and chocolate milk for Bradley." the blonde answered simply, turning to the list she made. "Are you trying to give him a sugar rush?" Mason raised a brow. "It's the holidays. Let the boy eat what he wants." Sierra said without looking again. She went to the fridge to begin gathering the necessary ingredients. "I might make more chocolate stuff for Belle. She likes sweet stuff, right?" Sierra asked. "I think so." Mason responded, remembering the sugar cookies and sipping his coffee again. Sierra nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Alright, I'm going to start making breakfast now. Get out of my kitchen or else I'll sweeten your food." she said. Mason didn't know whether she was joking or being serious, so he nodded his head and left just in case. 'Large amounts of sugar is gross. How can someone eat tons of chocolate or cookies in one go?' he wondered, walking through the dining hall. He drank from the mug again. Bitter is better, and that's a fact. 'Why did I try eating cookies with her, then?' his mind whispered in confusion. Did it have something to do with the weird guilty feeling he had? Was that even guilt? "What was it?" he mumbled, trying to think. "What was what?" Happy's curious voice said from beside him. Mason forced himself not to flinch. "... What was with you and making Belle bring me cookies?" he asked back, quickly remembering that she was the one who told Belle that he likes cookies. Happy frowned half-heartedly. "Okay, I know you well enough to know your 'I'm-avoiding-your-question' voice. That's not what you were thinking about." she told him. Mason smirked, "Maybe, but that's certainly on my mind now. Now answer the question, please."