There's the pride of an artist.
—
So, dearest baker; done with your shift? Would you mind me taking you out for dinner?

Pffh-— I'm sure I'm not the only person in the world whose favorite baker you are. Your regulars seem to agree with me.

Ah, well if someone of such caliber calls you that, don't you think you've already earned the title for a reason?

is that my favorite baker in the world?

- confess my undying love to you in public? Whatever has become of the timid man I've met years ago?

I can, of course."

Chin tilting up pridefully, Claude can't help but to grin. Oh, he knows this game. His dear husband is playing hard to get again.

"Oh, come on, Ivie."

Fingers brushing aside the silver hair from his neck, he places a small kiss, lingering.

"Don't be like that. You really want me to -

- gold.

"You look like a king."

Reaching up to cup Dimitris face, Claude leans up to place the smallest kiss to his lips.

"We still have some time to kill. Anything in mind, my sunflower?"

"No way you get me into one of those stuffy high necks — keep your stuff."

Stepping closer, his hands start to fidget with the details along Dimitris coat, eyes drinking in every detail. It suits him, he finds. The colors, the -

- it to Damien.

"Is this one okay?"

- to claim - he was raised a noble and simply would've picked random onions from the pile.

"I'm not gonna ask how you know about him not having diseases but— you two seem to hit it off so I'll let it slide."

Claude picks up a potato as well, bumpy skin and ugly shape. Showing -

"Huh?" He waddles his hand, huffing out a bright and amused laugh. "No, no! I'm not a writer, I just ran out of space to take notes."

Claude simply holds the bag while Damien chooses the vegetables for them and oh; is he grateful he brought him along. Despite everything he likes -

- Antoine. It's the perfect drinking temperature!

"I really got into novels recently... had a few recommendations from Ivaylo that I liked. It's just so hard to get your hands on books outside of personal collections these days."

"Your favorite poems? I'd love to get a few recommendations from you. I pretty much got into it when we went to school."

Quickly working to remove the tea blend from the pot again to make sure the beverage wouldn't get too bitter, Claude pours two cups, handing one to -

"Feeling awkward is subjective my dear scholar husband. I, for my part, don't feel awkward at all."

Still holding dearly onto Ivaylos hands, he lightly pulls him closer again.

"I'm a politician, I have to have my way with words."

- but... whatever makes you happy. Just make sure he doesn't bite you. Gods, tell me he didn't bite you."

"I wanted to look for a few new vials and paper anyways."

The two of them walk into the huge and colorful market, Claudes gaze immediately scanning around for the items they need. Onions and potatoes are on the top of the list.

"I still can't believe you basically adopted a rat -

"If I had any affinity for magic, I would probably agree with you. In my case, it's easier to aim than to use magic."

He takes the bow from her again, setting it aside.

"You satisfied now?"