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Iudex Neuvillette, who is usually so busy that his daily needs are always taken care of by his melusine housekeepers, wakes up one morning seeing that Wriothesley is in his kitchen (he lives in the Palais Mermonia) making tea and breakfast.
Neuvillette is genuinely surprised, but then he's there seated in his dining room, still clad in sleeping clothes and being served pancakes and a cup of warm water by the Duke.
Wriothesley makes no explanation of why he's there or even preparing breakfast for the Iudex.
He sits down with a cup of tea and just smiles, his eyes wreathing, his thick brows relaxed. Neuvillette eats slowly, not at all suspicious of the pancakes; they do smell and look very good.
The plates are cleared, and all is left to do is to have them washed, but Wriothesley motions for Neuvillette to sit while he keeps things away.
'How does he know where the plates are kept or that the flour is stored?' Are Neuvillette's thoughts as he watches from far.
'That pink apron looks familiar on him. Where have I seen it before?'
Neuvillette takes a mouthful of warmed water, and his eyes flutter. There is no trial today, but there are still a lot of documents waiting for him. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up.
"Sleep for another ten minutes. I'll wake you up." Wriothesley strokes the side of Neuvillette's neck, his fingers lingering in those loose, unbound white hair. Neuvillette feels quite soothed by the Duke's touch and is almost dozing off.
Then suddenly a thought rises in him.
He reaches to take Wriothesley's hand as he stands up.
"Would you join me?" Neuvillette trails his fingers into the Duke's scarred ones.
A rare personal request.
A request which Wriothesley needs no second prompting.
"Yes, but not with this apron on." He said, laughing.
Wriothesley tugs at the pink apron, on which are stitched silly appliqués of silly melusine faces and rainbow roses.
Neuvillette tilts his head, looking thoughtful, brows furrowed.
"I would like you to keep wearing it," He says, his fingers tightening around Wriothesley's hand.
Wriothesley laughs and gives in.
Quirky requests, but he also realizes that sometimes he could not, no, never guess how Neuvillette thinks.
Yet that's how Wriothesley likes it.