When he heard Marco at the door, Erran turned away from the window and went to open the door. Marco had been to the kitchen after all, but fortunately he hadn't tried his hand at eggs again, just hot chocolate. "Hey, good morning—you got your hands full, let me take one of these from you," he said as he let Marco in, taking one of the mugs. "C'mon in and sit down. Nice hat, work the bright colour thing."
Unless Marco had done something unorthodox but not immediately obvious during the prep (a splash of Worcestershire sauce, for instance), he seemed to have managed fine in the kitchen. Which was good. Being a strict vegan often made you unpopular, and Erran usually picked his battles when it came to food that someone else had prepared for him. In this case he was willing to compromise on the powdered milk in the hot cocoa mix, but not the marshmallows. "You know what, you should have my marshmallows," he said, spooning his into Marco's cup. "They're mostly made from pigs so they're not kosher. Lots of people don't know that, no big deal. But thanks, it's nice to have something hot on a day like this. How's it going, good? How have the last few days been?"