Paul was aware of Gabriel presence in his peripheral. How could he not be when the boy was standing at the window, bathed in predawn blue, ethereal and otherworldly. Paul forced himself not to look, otherwise he might take Gabriel right back to bed but the boy wanted breakfast first. And by god, Paul was going to make him breakfast.<br/><br/>Usually Paul had simple fair, toast, fried egg, fruit. He hardly felt the need for anything more, but for Gabriel he would make the effort. Unbeknownst to most, Paul once had the aspirations to be a chef and had spent a significant portion of his life traveling the world and learning unique cuisine. Eventually he learned he'd much rather eat than cook for others, but it left him with an incredible skillset.<br/><br/>Paul pulled out ingredients and got started on poached eggs on a salad of spinach and smoked salmon, and a side of brioche french toast with a fresh berry compote. He handled the utensils and ingredients with an almost deadly competence, his every movement assured and practiced.<br/><br/>Soon enough the food was ready but he only prepared one setting instead of too. Paul sat at the kitchen table and patted his lap for Gabriel to sit on. If they were to do this, Paul would do it properly and feed his angel by hand.