Chapter Text
Albedo hates the taste of coffee.
Regardless, it’s what he has to rely on to border on the edge of consciousness. After taking a sizable gulp, he blinks furiously to both fight off the sleepiness and deal with the bitter taste. Albedo hates bitter things, he much prefers sweet things like strawberry shortcake and freshly baked cookies. Sucrose insists that Albedo can, in fact, make coffee sweet if he actually chooses to add some sugar, but he’s very firm on the fact that coffee has to be black, otherwise it won’t work. As much as Albedo loves his sweets, it’s a necessary sacrifice for research.
Pushing his hair back with one hand, Albedo uses the other to pick up the pen he put down. He’s been doing more studies on slimes as of late, which is what sits in front of him. Albedo had sent Sucrose and Timaeus a while back to observe the reproductive behavior of Cryo slimes. It was definitely for the sake of further educating his apprentices (and totally not because Albedo thought it would be incredibly awkward to study).
“Speak of the Abyss Lector,” Albedo muses to himself, listening to the door far behind him creak open.
‘Mr. Albedo,'' Sucrose calls out from out of Albedo’s vision, “I was told by the Acting Grand Master that your presence is requested tomorrow at a meeting for the Knights of Favonius. I believe it has to do with the Abyss Order.”
The Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius quickly processes what Sucrose had told him. A meeting about the Abyss Order? Albedo isn’t all that surprised, considering their resurgence in Dragonspine alone. Perhaps it’ll be good for Albedo to leave the lab and go back to Monstadt for a fleeting moment. Although, he will have to see the Cavalry Captai—
Nevermind that. Albedo is making a sour face and he’s becoming increasingly paranoid that he’s being rude to his assistant.
“You’ve come all the way here to tell me this? Have a seat for a bit, Sucrose, you must be cold.” He mentally kicks himself for not thanking her for the information, but Albedo could simply express his gratitude later.
Sucrose flushes red like a Sunsettia in harsh sunlight. Albedo is unsure whether it's out of embarrassment, the bitter cold, or simply Sucrose’s standard behavior.
“I-If you insist, sir,” stammers Sucrose. She finds her way to one of the stools scattered about in the workplace and sits down curtly. Her manners are something to be admired.
“Thank you for letting me know about this, would you like some tea?” Albedo checks off the “express thanks” and “offer refreshments” tasks on the politeness checklist in his head.
“Oh, it’s no problem. What kind of apprentice would I be?” Sucrose laughs sheepishly. “If you’re offering, mint tea would be great… if you don’t mind, that is.”
The evening ended up with a series of light conversation between Albedo and Sucrose. Most of the conversation topics were about alchemy, or the latest findings each of them have found in the field, which is typical for these sorts of late-night talks.
Though, Sucrose did drop some gossip about the Knights. How she finds these things out, Albedo would never guess. She can hardly speak to someone as dull as Albedo without tripping over herself and apologizing a minimum of three times.
Now clad in only an old shirt, Albedo heads over to the bed nestled in the corner of his lab. It’s funny to him, that he sleeps more in his laboratory bed than his actual bed. Albedo supposes that it can’t be helped, if for the sake of alchemy.
Collapsing onto the mattress, Sucrose’s earlier gossip haunts his thoughts.
“You know, apparently Ms. Lisa’s been seeing Mr. Kaeya in The Cat’s Tail every day this week. She told me he ends up leaving with a different person every time and he—”
Albedo groans and smothers himself with his limp pillow. What the Cavalry Captain gets up to during his (debatably) free-time is none of Albedo’s concern. But it… bothered him. Sure, Kaeya is a close work colleague, but that’s also all he is. It’s not like they’re “friends”, which would give him a probable clause to inquire about those kinds of things. No matter. Albedo concludes that he is simply much too exhausted to think properly, and stows away the conflicting emotions for later resolution. He needs some sleep if he’s going to see the Cavalry Captain tomorrow at the meeting Jean called.