"Promise," Jean huffed under his breath in amusement. As fun as testing out junk food on someone with an untested palate would be, he just wanted Marco to be comfortable right now. As comfortable as he could manage.

The tea rooms on each floor had a small kitchen. Jean navigated around it with ease-- he knew where every tool and ingredient hid. He brought out bread and meat and cheese and sliced and arranged in contemplative silence. He might not have changed physically at all during his time in the Mansion-- nobody aged here-- but his manner had matured considerably. It had been a long time since Trost. A long time since he joined the Corps.

"Here," he offered a plate to Marco once he was finished. The sandwich was on fresh, soft bread, and had salty cold-cuts and sharp cheese, assorted vegetables and mustard. "Like home, but better."