"And I need some breakfast." Ptricia walked with him down the ramp but went into the kitchen where she put together a mound of toast with butter and honey, and a small washtub of cornflakes with only a little, say a half bag, of sugar. Coffee was an alien substance to any canid or feline anthro, as was hot chocolate, or indeed any sort of chocolate, but the gallon pot of tea, a blend low in the caffine that was one of the dietary bete noirs in question, was an acceptable alternative.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, Chris was being answered.<br/><br/>"'Morning." Fiana's voice came cheerfully over the handset. "Sleeping late? I'm already at the shop. That decadent rock star life style getting to you?"<br/><br/>Her tone of voice made it clear she was joking.