Meanwhile, Michael had gotten up and had brewed himself Earl Grey and brewed Khaat some French Roast, done with a french press. He had let her sleep because he knew that she was still on American time. Then finally he heard her up, showering. She came downstairs, wrapped in his white robe, oversized as it was. Her long hair was combed out and wet.
"Good morning," he kissed her cheek, handing her a mug of coffee. "You smell like my aftershave."
"No, your shampoo smells like your aftershave, and so does your soap."
"I did buy a set, didnt I?" he laughed. "Alright, I'll let it alone. But your perfume suits you better. But that robe never looked that good when I wore it. Maybe you should keep it."
"No," she said. "It smells like you. I like it just the way it is. What are you making?"
"A frittata," he said. "Sticky buns are due out any minute. Khaat, you should know. Your father spoke with me by the floo after you went to bed. That bastard who penetrated your grid is looking for you. Badly. He wants you. He wants to use the kids as bait to draw you out. He said he'll leave the kids alone if he can have you. Your father is not going to let you cave to that. He wants me to hand deliver you home to him when you're ready to go."
"I'm not in any hurry," she said, sighing.
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. I was hoping to spend some time with you."
"Really?" she was glad to hear him say it.
"Really," he smiled. "Now go sit down and I'll bring your breakfast. Looks like we might get snowed it. By the looks of it we got several more inches last night and its still coming down."
"That wont' disappoint me," she smiled.
"Me neither," he laughed.