<div style="text-align: justify;">While Rimion took the time to appreciate his own work of vital nourishment, Max treated the art in a way that made more sense. It was food and was meant to be eaten and provide nourishment, but it seemed that Max loved it so much that he could not even punish him for screwing it up. Of course, Rimion did leave the house without Max's permission, and to say that Rimion was suspecting Max to forget would be false in of itself. He was expecting to be punished for that, and he wanted that. <span style="font-style: italic">"Worth it!"</span> Rimion gave Max a smile, knowing for certain that he would be punished before the night ended. He didn't know why, but he just wanted to do something to get into trouble. <br/><br/>As Max left to handle some business, he proceeded to clean up the dishes and make sure the kitchen, which would be his domain for some time was in tip-top shape. As he was washing up the dishes and the pots he used today, he had heard a door slam loudly. What was going on? Did someone make Max mad? Was he talking to Sam, and closed the door so that nobody would hear the conversation. He did mention he was going to fire Sam, but Rimion would not have such an action unlike Max. His regularly cold expression would not belie any cruel actions that man did. As Max had showed, already sending some whiskey down his throat, he could only let out a small sigh, wondering what could have happened. He had his answer as another man went digging into the cabinets, apparently looking for something in particular that was. He merely folded his arms as glared at him, his only response to return the glare in the same fashion. <span style="font-style: italic">"I hope you know that you will never be good enough for him. He will always come back for me, always does."</span> Sam said to him before he finally took his leave. Rimion's only response was mere laughter, saying with confidence, "We'll see about that, Sam." As he had finally finished cleaning up the kitchen, he took one final look, only smiling at his work. The sink was shining and mess-free, the pots and pans and utensils were organized, not a pickle outta place. The only issue was that his new white shirt had gotten wet from his hard labor. It's not like he had planned to wear it for long anyway. "Sooo... What do you want to do now?" Rimion asked, slowly unbuttoning his wet shirt.</div>