By the time Avond finished his meal, he felt how much his body needed it. His stomach, regardless of its silence, was hungry. The moment that chicken broth touched his tongue, he felt a slight shiver down his body and realized he hadn't had a decent home-cooked meal in the longest time.
When exactly, he didn't even know. Always running on tasteless bread and coffee on the go, the occasional chicken rolls with their glorious oily contents, and half-eaten takeout from the previous night.
Celeste's hand-cooked meal was delicious, and Avond appreciated it.
"Ah, it doesn't matter how many sticks of cigarettes I smoke, I still can't calm down. That old man—how dare he! And that woman—she left me!" Tiel cried the moment he stepped back into the bedroom, a slight resemblance of his former self showing through the desperation in his voice. A child wondering why they weren't good enough to be loved.
