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

[color=ed1c24]"Uh? Ahh~! Yuh huh!"[/color]

Seemingly so taken aback by Cyare's sudden question that he was lost for words for a second, Angel hurriedly leaped back over the bar in order to reach the kitchen again. In seconds, he had removed his chef's hat, rolled up his customized apron and tucked it into the back of his pants, and slipped on another layer with a nice, furry collar to keep him toasty outside. 

In seconds, the cute young man had once again leaped across the counter like an inches-high hurdle and landed on his feet, hands tucked into the warm pockets of his coat. The fur's light-colored appearance blended with his already mussed-up thicket of curls, an optical illusion that tricked the unobservant into believing he wore his hair in some sort of longer mane than he actually had. It was especially deceptive considering how closely he wore the fur; one hand reached up and awkwardly pulled the fur closer to his chin, swallowing up his whole neck.

A shiver was already running through him.

Stupid cold.

[color=ed1c24][i]Brrrr.[/i][/color]

That was why he'd made everyone such hot food.

[color=ed1c24]"Following your lead, best friend!"[/color] he confirmed, hiding his discomfort under an earnest nod. [color=ed1c24]"Let's try to have fun, though, kay? We're trying to make these people happy, too, yeah? Best way to do that is by keeping the old spring in your step!"[/color]