She had indeed found the kitchen. She was in the middle of exploring it when he called for her. Convenient. She had a feeling she would be spending a lot of time in here. Between her cooking skills and her.... other talents, she spent most of her time as a slave in one of only two places. She liked this better. There was no pressure, no danger in the kitchen. She could create here. Bring pleasure to others without needing to be present for it.
She went right to work, checking drawers and ice boxes for ingredients. She knew what to make for him. It was something of a specialty of hers.
She cut up fruits while she put a pot of water out to boil. Next she went to find spices. Cinnamon, sugar, a pinch of mint. She put it all in a bowl and mixed it with the freshly cut up fruit and added a few tea leaves. When the water boiled down, the slave placed the fruit and spice mixture into the pot of boiling water. She let that sit for a good few minutes while she prepared the tray, then she strained the fruit infused tea into the tea pot.
She took a second to admire her work. The tray was lovely. She set out one cup for her master. The tea pot sat in the center of the tray, and she put out a platter of leftover fruit. Every meal was a presentation, a work of art. The fruit added color, but also tied the flavors together. She smiled, picked up the tray and brought it to him as quickly as she could.
"My sincerest apologies for the wait, Master," she said in her thick accent as she bowed to him.
[member="Azriel Zadimus"]
