ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs

"Butter, right." He moves to comply, setting the bowl down while he melts some butter then tries again. Here goes nothing, right? He lets out a breath, feeling strangely nervous all of the sudden. What if he screws it up? It never filters down that they're just eggs -- it's okay if they're not perfect. He remembers a full second later to pick up the wooden spoon as he forces a smile over his shoulder at her. "Can I put some cheese in mine?" It's not permission so much as help me please, but yeah it comes out funny and he knows it.