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It didn’t have to be good. It had to be perfect.
Varian bent down to be at eye-level of the kitchen counter, holding a slice of bread aloft and carefully positioning it over the half-made ham sandwich. Satisfied that the edges were at 90 degree angles and the ham evenly placed, he smirked in satisfaction.
“And they say there’s no science to food preparation.” He remarked to Ruddiger with a little laugh.
“Varian!” Quirin called from outside, a shade of impatience coloring his voice. “We must leave now!”
“Coming Dad!” The young alchemist called, finishing the last loving touches and wrapping the sandwiches before gingerly packing them in his satchel. He raced outside, a goofy, happy grin splitting his face.
This was going to be the best road trip ever.