When Orren walked into the kitchen the smell of...steak? Seafood? Cake? Who the hell was making fucking [i]cake[/i] at this hour? He turned the corner and was met with the sight of one of their younger recruits cooking his little heart out. Of course it was the robot guy; he was always in here. 
"Hey, any chance you got some breakfast cooking? Are you cooking for the whole goddamn city or what?" Orren asked, rather rudely. Around the cave, he was known more for his bark than his bite. He went to the refrigerator to pull out some eggs. He could do eggs and steak. Steak was breakfast food, right? 

Orren set the carton on the counter and bent down to dig around under the counter for a frying pan. After pulled one out from the disaster zone under there, he put it down on the stove and began to make some sunny side ups. Having learned from mistake over the years, he was sure to make enough to feed a small army. It wouldn't be long before everyone would show up and snatch them like the filthy vultures they were. And because he was nice sometimes. 

When the eggs were done, Orren figured that he should probably wake up the clown before he [i]actually[/i] slept till noon. He sat down at the table and pulled out his phone.

Down the hall and around the corner, an obnoxious piece of circus music played. Of course Dylan's ringtone was circus music; what else would you expect? There was a groan of complaint as a long, lanky arms slithered out from the covered to pick up the loud little device. It was pulled back under and soon answered. 
"Hello?" The voice was groggy and heavy with sleep, but still smooth and slow. Dylan never spoke fast. 
"Get out of bed you worthless piece of clown shit." The other voice was slightly deeper and a bit rougher, and most certainly quicker paced. 
"Oh, hey there brother," Dylan purred, still having not made a single effort to get out of bed.
"Were you just planning to sleep around on your ass all day? In the time that it will probably take you to get your snail paced asshole down here, I could have breakfast ready, eat it, stop a psychopath from taking over the fucking world, read a book, grow old and have grandkids!" 
"Heh. Man, I you know I ain't a brother to get ready before breakfast." Dylan was completely unphased by the harshly delivered words. He slowly sat up, his eyes half lidded. 
"Just please put pants on before you come out of our room this time, for the love of god."
"You got it best friend." 

There was a click and Orren hung up to enjoy his breakfast. Meanwhile, Dylan climbed out of bed and went to dig around in his drawers for something clean to wear. Should he put on the purple pants with the teal spots or the teal spots with the purple pants? Dylan just shrugged to himself and grabbed one. After pulling them on, he left. No hairbrush, shower, or shirt was touched in the process. The clown meandered his way down stairs to the kitchen, where he found Orren with eggs and steak. Oh, and Per was there too. 

Dylan paused to look at her with a smile on his face. Wasn't she just the cutest fucking little thing? Dylan remembered the first time he saw her, all skittish like a baby deer. He'd heard a noise while getting some water in the middle of the night, gone to check it out, and had apparently scared the living shit out of her. Half the Guild heard the commotion. Dylan hadn't done any scary mumbojumbo or anything. Orren came in and got her all calmed down; apparently she knew him. All Dylan knew was that a little blonde haired angel had appeared out of nowhere. 

The second time, he'd met to properly introduce herself. Orren had made him take his clown makeup off. Dylan had held out his hand for her to shake, and when she grabbed it, it popped right off. Apparently she hadn't thought the ol' fake hand trick was funny. It was a classic! Orren had to come calm her down for that one too.