[ coffee was the next thing he’d prepare, having learned how to heat the water, set the filters and spoon a favorable amount of crushed beans to add the desired flavor. falco enjoyed the smell, readily reaching for the jar erwin had frequently used and spinning the top open to let out the crisp, indispensable aroma. the taste was bitter for him, so he’d only be having milk at room temperature— but he gets to work while the water boils at the kitchen’s iron stove on Paul’s soon to be coffee cup. it shouldn’t take long; he prepares the rest of the table and mind’s paul’s words as he did, catching sight of delectable looking rolls as he returned the first time, a smile on his face and nodding, quietly affirming with an “okay” as he set silverware by paul’s plate. just in case.
by the time falco goes back to the stove and returns with a finished cup in hand, he slows at the presence of a little wrapped package and the encouragement to open it. paul had said there was something for him, and now that there was beyond the words to prepare him, he still feels a giddy, boyish jump in his stomach. redness spreads to his cheeks. a gift, out of nowhere.
setting the cup in front of paul gently, in an effort not to spill its contents, falco’s enthusiasm comes as a meek grin, nearly laughing as he sits and takes the carefully packed gift in his hands, already tending to it with a delicate hold. if nothing could fully prepare him for the prospect of a gift, then nothing would prepare him for the contents— a falcon, so gingerly created with attentive hands and eyes to remarkable detail. that, falco could see immediately, sighing out with a charmed, breathy laugh he couldn’t contain.
it looked like the bird that sat by him every day. ]
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by the time falco goes back to the stove and returns with a finished cup in hand, he slows at the presence of a little wrapped package and the encouragement to open it. paul had said there was something for him, and now that there was beyond the words to prepare him, he still feels a giddy, boyish jump in his stomach. redness spreads to his cheeks. a gift, out of nowhere.
setting the cup in front of paul gently, in an effort not to spill its contents, falco’s enthusiasm comes as a meek grin, nearly laughing as he sits and takes the carefully packed gift in his hands, already tending to it with a delicate hold. if nothing could fully prepare him for the prospect of a gift, then nothing would prepare him for the contents— a falcon, so gingerly created with attentive hands and eyes to remarkable detail. that, falco could see immediately, sighing out with a charmed, breathy laugh he couldn’t contain.
it looked like the bird that sat by him every day. ]
Did you make this—?