The smell hit Noah first.
He was halfway down the stairs, still groggy from a night of restless sleep punctuated by dreams of black bones and parasitic shadows, when his senses registered something... off.
Not quite burnt, not quite raw, but occupying some unfortunate middle ground that suggested culinary experimentation had gone horribly wrong.
Kelvin was already in the kitchen, standing near the counter with the kind of frozen expression that suggested he'd been offered something and was currently calculating the least offensive way to decline. Diana sat at the table, staring at her plate with the intensity of someone trying to solve a complex puzzle. Sophie had her diplomat face on, the one she used when negotiating contracts with difficult clients.
And Seraleth stood at the stove, looking radiantly proud of herself.
"Good morning, Noah!" she called out cheerfully. "I have prepared breakfast for everyone. Please, sit. You must be hungry after yesterday's exertions."
