Derek made another nonverbal sound of agreement, satisfied that his pack and his slaves were treating their newest member well, and sliced through the sandwiches, piling them on a plate which he carried to the table in the small nook where the family tended to take their meals.
He waved Alcuin towards the table as he moved back to the fridge. "Help yourself," he encouraged, knowing that some slaves needed permission to eat. Locating the pitcher of lemonade, he set it out on the counter, then filled two large glasses with ice and lemonade, carrying the glasses to the table.
Masters didn't generally prepare food for their own slaves, much less slaves belong to others, but Derek was a pragmatic person. It was his kitchen, and his food, and Alcuin hadn't been trained as a domestic slave.