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The directions on the back of the worn out piece of cardboard were barely legible at best. Nothing at all like the pages and pages of notes that filled the piles of composition books copied in his neat and minuscule hand. The ink had run and dried over and over again leaving behind blurry remnants of words. But the faded yellow scrap was all that bridged the gap between the young Magus and breakfast. Squinting at the type Waver measured and scraped the ingredients with a surgical like precision. Dumping each carefully accounted for item into the bowl one at a time. It all went swimmingly well as long as that fuzzy shape had actually been a tablespoon and not some other measurement altogether. But alas half the battle was won with confidence right? At least, that’s what he was telling himself as his stomach protested loudly about the late hour.
He really should have learned to cook. Or, at least, have accumulated a stack of recipes. How much more difficult could it have been than any of his alchemy formulas? This is had become his mantra as he stood in the little kitchen. Pink apron tied around his waist and knotted deftly at the back. Although he could have done without the ruffle, it wasn’t worth ruining his second best sweater over. Poised at the delicate crossroads of cracking one of the large brown eggs on the side of the bowl when the door swung open with a loud bang. The large man’s entrance rattled his very bones bringing the brittle vessel crashing against the curve of the mixing bowl. Precariously it tips under the force before small arms manage to get a proper grip on it again. Spinning on one heel with the bowl clutched to his chest the green haired boy loudly rebukes the giant of a man.
“Rider! You don’t have to take the door off the hinges every time you enter a room.” The hearty man lets out a great guff of laughter. It raises the heat on the boy’s face, darkening his cheeks. “Don’t laugh!!” He sputters. “Or you won’t get any at all.”
Giving the man his back Waver puts nimble fingers to work plucking eggshells from the batter. Muttering under his breath all the while before stomping over to the sink to wash his hands. Suddenly the room feels fifty times warmer than it did before. He can feel the space Rider claims as his own simply by occupying it. Stiffening in response to the sudden closeness it is all he can do to not jump when that deep gravely voice chuckles in his ear.
“I think you got some just there.” One big thumb brushes across a streak of flour traversing the mage’s cheek. Affectively smudging it further and doing nothing to dampen the boy’s ire. Flicking water from his fingers into that grinning bearded face is only a small conciliation. But it’s enough to send the king of conquerors laughing from the room.
“That’s right! You better go. Before I really change my mind!” Glad to have the last word even if they are projected only at a broad retreating back. In relative peace, Waver manages to make two sizable stacks of pancakes and he only happens to burn the first three, or four.