In the kitchen, there is thankfully no more coffee, merely washed mugs on the drying rack. It seems that Hythlodaeus did bake some of that fresh bread along with the egg dish, and it does smell heavenly in the kitchen.

Even from here, the garden is visible. Hythlodaeus does love to keep that door open, and why wouldn't he? It does allow the Tropius and the Cutieflies to come and go as they please. Hopefully winter wasn't too cold—

The Yamask are finishing up setting the table, including a much smaller one with yellow eyes. Hythlodaeus signs to him before giving him a what looks like a truffle. He eats it gleefully before floating off. The books and such have all thankfully been neatly stacked against the wall. Once he notices their arrival, Hythlodaeus turns towards them and offers the briefest smile of acknowledgement.

To those not in the know, it looks like a very terse expression. He unties his apron and hangs it before taking his own seat at the table.

The tomato-adorned sfougato, baked into a round and sliced into six pieces, makes quite the pretty picture in the middle of the table. There's a pitcher of grapefruit juice and little ramekins of butter, honey, and olive oil. It's all enough to make any grandmother proud.

"Come, it's all ready," he says softly, gesturing as cutieflies bring napkins over, waiting for each of them to sit.