[ Love sure is a mystery for the both of them, one that Vanitas has only started to look into (by force, he'd argue). Noé's voice rings in his ears a little louder than usual, but he waves his hand dismissively and goes to start cooking up...something. Whatever comes to mind. ]
Yes, Noé. Tarte tatin isn't dinner.
[ For him, anyway. He sounds like an exasperated school teacher when he speaks.
Some time passes, and eventually, he emerges with soup and seats himself. Vanitas will try to steal a glance at the plate Noé's tarte tatin was on, as if to see if it was finished... ]
...Was it good?
[ A strange question for him to ask, given that he's fed Noé this same dessert many times in the past. ]
no subject
Yes, Noé. Tarte tatin isn't dinner.
[ For him, anyway. He sounds like an exasperated school teacher when he speaks.
Some time passes, and eventually, he emerges with soup and seats himself. Vanitas will try to steal a glance at the plate Noé's tarte tatin was on, as if to see if it was finished... ]
...Was it good?
[ A strange question for him to ask, given that he's fed Noé this same dessert many times in the past. ]