Xavier moved around the kitchen like he owned the place — precise, confident, almost like a dance. He chopped, stirred, flipped, and seasoned, the slls weaving a quiet spell toward the dining area. The aroma of sizzling eggs, buttery toast, roasted herbs, a faint sweet hint of sothing like caralized onions mixed with warm bread hit Seraphina, and her stomach betrayed her before her mind could even register. She crossed her arms, trying to act aloof, but her mouth watered and she found herself leaning forward ever so slightly, sniffing and guessing.
"What’s he making?" she muttered under her breath, eyes darting toward the kitchen. The faint clink of pans and the hiss of heat only teased her more.
Xavier reappeared, hands full, a plate covered with a tal do balanced carefully in both hands. He set it down in front of her. "Don’t even think about peeking yet," he said, voice calm but teasing. His grin carried that edge — the one that said he knew exactly what effect he was having. Without waiting for her reaction, he disappeared back into the kitchen.
A minute later, he returned with two more dishes — eggs with herbs, golden-brown toast, a small fruit side — and a fresh cup of coffee that slled like it could wake soone from a weeklong sleep. He sat opposite her, fingers drumming lightly on the table.
"Go ahead," he said, nodding toward the plates. "Uncover it."
Seraphina lifted the dos, eyes widening slightly. The food wasn’t fancy, but it was warm, hoy, inviting — the kind of dishes that made the air itself feel alive. Her stomach growled audibly, and she hoped he didn’t notice.
She picked up her fork, testing the eggs first, then looked up at him. Xavier’s eyes caught hers, calm, faintly amused, patient.
"Well?" he prompted softly, almost challenging.
"Not bad," she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "Really... really good."
Xavier’s grin deepened. "These are the dishes my father used to make when I lived in the village," he said, picking up his own fork. "Learned a thing or two from him." He took a bite slowly, savoring the flavors, the mories, letting the mont stretch just enough to feel deliberate. "Not quite the sa as back then, but... close enough."
Seraphina’s eyes flicked to him, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. She took another bite, and she couldn’t help but notice the subtle perfection in how he moved, how he presented the food, the care in every gesture. Even without seeing his face fully, the energy he put into making it hit her.
Xavier, for his part, took his ti, chewing deliberately, making her feel the quiet intimacy of the mont. The room slled of warm food, coffee, and sothing indefinable, sothing personal. He reached for his toast, breaking a piece and holding it up. "Here, try this too. My father always said the secret is patience. Never rush breakfast... never rush the good stuff."
She bit it, and her eyes lit up just a bit. "I can see why," she muttered, voice softer now, less sharp. And probably less angry.
For the next few minutes, they ate in silence. He occasionally smirked at her subtle reactions, the little way she bit her lip at a flavor or breathed in the scent a second too long. She caught herself watching him when he thought she wasn’t, and when he caught her glance, his smile was that faint, knowing one that said, I see you.
By the ti they finished, the morning light had begun creeping over the city, soft, golden. It didn’t need words — the breakfast had said more than either would. And Xavier, finishing the last sip of coffee, just leaned back, eyes flicking to Seraphina with a smile on his face.
’Now... let’s pray she forgives . Goddess, you probably can’t hear from the 55th floor, but give a quest or sothing that guides on how to calm her down.’
The last bite lingered on Seraphina’s fork, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. She watched Xavier move around, wiping his hands, the morning light catching his hair.
"So," she said quietly, leaning back, "I... I think I overreacted earlier." Her voice softened, eyes eting his. "I shouldn’t have shouted, shouldn’t have acted like that. You’re young... it’s your age to fool around, and I—" She cut herself off, shaking her head.
Xavier let out a short laugh, shaking his head too. "You didn’t overreact. You reacted like anyone would. Perfectly normal. It’s my fault. I should have told you, let you know. I ssed up."
Her eyes softened a little, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was tense, like it was holding everything they hadn’t said.
"I’m leaving the planet soon," Xavier said, his words cutting through the quiet. "And I want to know... would you co with ?"
The pause that followed stretched long enough for him to feel it in his chest. She was looking down now, and Xavier rembered her refusal to move the restaurant upstairs before. She liked her freedom, her space, doing things her way. Now, he felt that hesitation, that familiar wall she always kept.
"Seraphina?" His voice didn’t change, but it nudged, like a hand on her shoulder without touching her.
She didn’t answer at first.
"I’ll fund you," he said, leaning forward a little. "You can open your franchise anywhere. Other planets, other cities... you can do everything your way. Human chefs, natural ingredients. All of it. And we’d be together."
She looked up, steady but thoughtful. "It’s not my goal. I just... I like doing everything myself. Keeping it natural. That’s why I insist on hands-on, why I don’t let robots do it. It matters to ."
Xavier nodded, letting her words sink in. "I get it. But think about the places we could see, the freedom we could have. You wouldn’t have to compromise your way of doing things; you could take it further than anyone else could. And we’d be together."
Seraphina chewed her lip, thinking. "I... need ti to think."
Xavier shrugged, leaning back slightly. "Take all the ti you need. I’ve got plenty before I finish what I have to do and leave. No rush. I’ll wait."
Xavier realized how tough it was. And he was yet to ask the sa thing to Angel and Reva.
’Fuck ... why am so getting so nervous for?’
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