Trouble

"Are you still brooding?"

Zariel glared, snorting wordlessly; he poked and prodded at the steak he'd prepared for himself and Aurelia, only to glance at Professor Lupin at his dinner table, shamelessly enjoying a meal he'd claim by snatching it off Zariels plate, forcing him to cook another. 

"Did you hug him again?" Lupin asked, slicing into his steak. He purred, nearly tearing up. 

"It's the middle of the night! What are you doing here!" Zariel demanded. 

"You cooked me a steak." 

"I cooked myself a meal. You stole it!" 

"Stole… What a nasty word. I borrowed it." Lupin said. "What type of butter did you use to base this steak? Its—" 

"Have you no shame, Lupin," Tiamat asked, stuffing her face. She pointed her bloody knife at him, a devious smile on her face. 

"nope," Lupin exclaimed with exuberance. "Yesterday, Malos roasted that mystery meat he had on hand alongside a caramelized pear. I almost clima—"