Jean-Paul snorted at Tabby. A princess? It was completely true, to be honest. "Yes, I think you're actually falling behind, dear Tabby." A grin spread over his lips; that was the best part of their relationship, fighting over who could get who first. He could feel something else in his hair and turned to glare at her, she who put on that facade of innocence. As if.
"Hah!" He let out, imagining it rather easily. Of course, he added a pipe to his mouth for some reason or another, but the point was that it worked out. Dante summed it up even better. "That works," he commented, looking over the food and taking a big whiff. His nostrils filled with the cinnamon covered apples and everything else that looked and smelled delicious. His mouth was practically watering.
"Merci," he grabbed a plate for himself and took a bite of the sandwich right there in the middle of the kitchen where he stood. Jean-Paul didn't need a table or a seat, let alone utensils. "Mmm," he sounded through the mouthful, partly because it was still hot, but mostly because it was good.