The food had arrived with the quiet efficiency of a house that refused to let even emotional catastrophes occur on an empty stomach. Peter brought a three-course meal. The food he prepared suggested long negotiations, diplomatic strain, or the kind of conversations that either ended in familial reconciliation or court-level disaster. So… a lot of protein to incentivize him to survive.
Rafael ate.
Not because he truly felt hungry, but because logic insisted on occupying space in his brain even when anxiety wanted to scream through the halls. Food helped the mind focus. Focus helped ensure Delphine did not verbally annihilate him through sheer maternal force.
Also, Peter stood at a socially reasonable distance, radiating, 'You will eat like a civilized human being before you do anything self-destructive.'
He obeyed, if only because he did not currently possess the energy to start another war inside this mansion.
