the baffled king composing hallelujah
"Oh - morning." Ronin's greeting is uttered around a wide yawn, and he instinctively reaches up into the cupboard to take down a second mug, automatically assuming that their houseguest will want to partake. "I am indeed," he says with a lopsided smile in her direction, the kettle on the stovetop now to boil. "I hope I didn't wake you up. I tried to be quiet, but honestly, Mateo sleeps like the dead, so I don't have to tip-toe as much as I might otherwise."
As evidenced by the fact that they aren't even remotely having to keep their voices down. His son will rise when he's good and ready and not a moment before; a good thing when he wakes at normal times, but not so good when he's up before the dawn. Ruffling his fingers through his hair, Ronin slouches against the counter beside Maeve. "How are you feeling? I was going to make breakfast once I've woken up properly - do you want some?"
As evidenced by the fact that they aren't even remotely having to keep their voices down. His son will rise when he's good and ready and not a moment before; a good thing when he wakes at normal times, but not so good when he's up before the dawn. Ruffling his fingers through his hair, Ronin slouches against the counter beside Maeve. "How are you feeling? I was going to make breakfast once I've woken up properly - do you want some?"
