Some kind of racket. Kurt looked up from the old drawing table he'd found and claimed his workspace in the library. The Brotherhood was fortunate Erik had found such well-to-do... hosts... for their extended stay in Connecticut. It was only fair they made the best of it all, including the old design tools the master of the house had left behind.
Muffled calls of "lunchtime," begged him to investigate, so he dropped his pencil and went for the door. He'd been working on a new layout for his pamphlets, something more striking to suit the urgency of their cause, but somehow more earnest and friendly too. It was a hard balance to maintain.
The aroma hit his nose and made his mouth water. His stomach grumbled, reminding him how it'd been neglected since early last night. He followed the scent with caution. Who would be cooking for them all?
Seeing Kevin, spatula and pan in hand, put fears at ease. He wasn't an Emeril Lagasse or even a Rachael Ray, but Kevin was good in the kitchen. That meant good food. Kurt cracked a smile and made sure to pat the chef on the back as he made his way into the kitchen.
"Just like mom used to make." He ogled the macaroni hungrily. It was a lie - he couldn't remember Raven ever picking up a spatula - but the sentiment was there. It was nice to have someone actually cook for them.
Smile growing by the moment, he helped himself to a bowl. Yes, he may have edged by Gloria, but he did it in the nicest way possible. Heck, if she let him he'd switch bowls with her and fill up the second one for himself.