"I don't think it was rude," Adam said, brow still a little bit furrowed. He had a sick feeling in his chest at the idea of Alec being lectured over something tiny like that, because it was all too awfully familiar. "You can cook?" he asked, since that was the only conclusion he could draw from Alec's statement that food didn't appear already made.

There was a tray of pastries, all different, artful Parisian delicacies like nothing Adam had ever seen before. He selected one of them with care, setting it on his plate and turning it a quarter turn so that he could admire the exquisite, towering, tiny confection.