Teddy was indeed in his fiancee's apartment. It was in fact more dear to him than his own small flat, mostly because it was utterly Toire. At the moment he had simply been getting some paperwork filled out, waiting for Victoire to arrive home. It was at times, awkward to live separate, not that he spent every night in his own bed but he did often enough for Toire to complain about it.
Hearing her call, he abandoned the paperwork, a testament, perhaps, to his affection that she alone was really the only person that could trump work. Cracking a yawn, it had been a late night last night, he walked into the kitchen with a smile, "Mongolian you say? Why Toire, you know the way to a man's heart." He hooked an arm around her hip and pulled her close, lips brushing over her cheek. "How was work my flower?"