[color=ed1c24][h2]Angel Ferrara[/h2][/color]

[color=ed1c24]"He's not plaaaaa~yiiiiing!"[/color] came a sing-song voice from behind Rei in the kitchen. 

Seconds later, the top third of a cute young man popped out from behind the kitchen door, cheerfully waving a giant cheese knife and an empty skillet with some bits of egg still clinging to the black iron surface of the pan. Tufts of his curly mop of blonde hair were sticking out from a white chef's hat Rei had plainly acquired for him - it was a size too small, probably meant for someone under the age of thirteen - and he was wearing an apron with several stains, some fresh and some long-since dried, that had once read [i]"KISS THE COOK"[/i] but had the "C" scribbled out and replaced with a hasty [i][color=ed1c24]"R"[/color][/i] in the sloppy handwriting that could only have come from a recently-literate forest boy.

Angel beamed, giggled, and waved the frying pan with what might have been his attempt at a playful threat.

[color=ed1c24]"I made BLTs with eggs, made some black pepper bacon for the side, used up what's left of the potatoes for homemade chips, and even scraped together some cocoa!"[/color] exclaimed the trap proudly. [color=ed1c24]"It's coming right out, so I'd better hear some stomach rumbling, kay? Or Rei and I will both pout!"[/color]