[He picks up all the pieces of himself threatening to drift away when he hears the doorknob jostling, realigning himself back into the usual Ardyn he shows the rest of the world. It may be a moot routine while in the company of X’rhun, and sharing a private room at that, but it comes automatically to him — so does the lopsided grin he gives the other man when he watches him try to waltz in while balancing plates in his arms. The scent of freshly-cooked food wafts in his direction.]

Not at all. Need of an assist?

[Says Ardyn, stepping forward in long gaits and reaching out to sweep up a plate or two from X’rhun’s arms, in the same vein of a grand, overdramatic gesture.]

Smells delightful. A strange notion, requiring to eat; but I suppose if it must be done, there are worse dishes to have chosen.