Chapter 97: Friends
The kitchen of the Supreme Hall was vast, almost intimidating in its cleanliness. But Michael stepped into it like he belonged, sleeves rolled, hair tied back slightly.
"What are you doing?" Leon asked, watching Michael reach for a pan.
"Cooking."
"We can just order food, you know."
"I don't want cafeteria mush. And if I'm going to force myself to deal with your nonsense all night, you're at least going to eat something good first."
Aiden perked up immediately. "Good as in… edible good, or 'god help us' good?"
Michael smirked faintly. "Good as in—don't complain until you taste it."
Maria tilted her head, watching him line up jars of spices with practiced ease. "You cook often?"
"Used to. Before all… this." He gestured vaguely to the academy, the sword at his side, his entire new life. "When it was just me, I didn't exactly have the luxury of hiring a chef."