Flint was up and making toast, he was good at mornings and usually made sure he got enough sleep. He was still in his black dressing gown, tied at the waist and as the toast popped up he grabbed it and placed it on the plate. Burning himself slightly and wincing in pain as he quickly stabbed at the eggs in the pan to his left. He wondered if his meister would be up soon, or maybe they where already up? He questioned as he took the eggs from the pan and began whistling.