(no subject)
Duck's leaning forward against the kitchen counter, hands framing the coffee maker as it drips with a slowness that would be maddening to anyone but a man with Duck's patience. "Getting there," he calls to Geoffrey, who's in the pantry doing what can only be called foraging. "And I found some milk in the fridge. Some sort of cheese creation, too." When did that become breakfast food? "What about you?"