Breakfast
The plate doesn’t even make it to the table before Stephanie’s cheering. “Waffles! Oh, Alfred, I knew you were my favorite for a reason! Fantastic!”
He chuckles as he relinquishes the food. “I cannot remember how long it’s been since someone displayed such enthusiasm for my cooking.”
“Tt.” Damian sniffs. “Plebian.”
Stephanie scoffs right back. “Yeah, you wouldn’t like them. ‘Cause waffles are condensed joy and your emotional spectrum consists of rage and disdain and”- her eyes widen- “oh my God Alfred marry me.”
“I suspected strawberry and blueberry would be your favorite.” he smiles gently. Stephanie’s voice drifts in behind him as he withdraws to the kitchen- “Did you make this syrup yourself? This is happiness made manifest!”
