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Florian hasn't gotten dressed. Instead, he has his robe wrapped around himself as he leans in the doorway and watches Johann at it.

He waits until Johann is no longer sticking his hands in the flame before he speaks.

"I need to show you how to heat the pot without a fire," he says lazily as he smiles over at Johann.

"After breakfast," he insists, gesturing to the tray. "Tea after or your eggs will be cold."

It's wouldn't be difficult to hide his enthusiasm for another practical lesson from other people, but Florian might notice that his smirk is a bit less stiff. That he suddenly has a higher lilt to his voice.

"Of course," he says as he makes his way to the table and takes his seat. He looks over the eggs and ignores the biscuits for the moment as he tries some on its own. There's a pause before he eats a little more, then tries it with some toast. He'll make his way through the little breakfast quickly enough.

Johann fiddles with the water and then the kettle, but he keeps a very careful eye on Florian, though he tries not to be obvious about it.

The breakfast had been something they planned previously, of course, but the timing of this is no accident. Archer's gone, Florian hasn't changed his attitude, which means that something's wrong and he's masking it for Johann's sake.

He's not certain if he can break through that stubborn wall to get to the true feelings, but at least he can try and do something for him in the meantime to take his mind off of whatever it is. It's an odd feeling to be concerned for what his inner thoughts and motivations and worries are.

He finally sits with two cups, placing one near Florian. It's a black tea with a hint of peppermint, which is why he insisted on it being last.

Florian is just finishing up the eggs when the tea is served and he'll let his fingers brush against Johann's hand before it pulls away as he tugs the cup towards himself.

He'll sip at it thoughtfully as he watches Johann.

"It was very good, incidentally. The eggs were well salted."

There's no mistaking the way he lights up at that. He's never been one to respond so positively to praise, even Florian's, but there's something about putting work into something that he actually cares about. He takes ownership of it, which makes it more personal.

"Mm. It's mostly from the butter that I used to fry it." He picks up his own toast and crunches on it. Feigned nonchalance, though it's hiding pleasure rather than disdain.

"I can tell," he says easily enough, leaning back in the chair to sip, "as it also added some richness to the egg whites. The yellows were cooked just enough for the toast. Very good."

None of it is untrue. He's being more vocal about it because he wants Johann to know his efforts are appreciated, but he'd never lie to him about it. The toast is a little underdone, to his taste anyway, but he'll work around a way to let him know without ruining it he other parts.

"I know," he says more from an effort to be just a little bit shitty than actual arrogance.

"You'd normally have a lesson today," he points out after a moment, tasting the tea and making a mental note to steep it just a little longer next time.

"And thankfully the texts provided by Herr Archer have some exercises included that I can utilize in his absence," offered smooth as silk without even a beat skipped.

He lets that sit in the air for as long as he can stand it.

A few seconds, really.

"Why are you pretending as if you don't care?"

He doesn't blink. Instead, like a cat, he turns and looks at Johann and after a moment, tilts his head.

"I am not 'pretending' anything, Johann."

"Then what are you doing?" He wipes a bit of jam from his mouth and picks up his tea.

"I was eating my breakfast," he says, only a little annoyed, and he's going to take one of the biscuits now, mostly because he wants the taste of it with the tea.

He sets his jaw, just a little clench.

He turns it into a classic sneer. "You're cute when you use that annoyed voice, you know own. Even when you're not being fully truthful."

And Florian's eyes narrow, just a smidge.

"I am being entirely truthful. Nothing I've said has been a lie. And don't turn that face on me when you want something. It's just aggravating."

"I didn't say you were lying, sweetpea."

He leans closer to him. "I said you weren't being fully truthful. Telling me only truths while deliberately leaving out other things is still not being truthful. I've seen you do it to other people long enough to recognize when you're doing it to me."

And those pale glass eyes practically glow as he looks at Johann.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm yours," he answers easily enough, watching his face, grinning past the ice.

"If you want to be an island apart from everyone, then I am the sea that keeps you there. Still with you."

"If we both know, I do not see much point in discussing it. There's hardly anything to be done about it, after all. He will return or he won't."

The answer pulls some of the harshness from him.

"That's just a poor excuse for continuing to be false about it. If we both know, then you don't have to pretend."

He reaches over for his hand.

The urge to pull away, to strike, to snap is strong in him, but just as strong as the urge to accept the gift of the breakfast, to not ruin this hobby that clear seems to be working in some way or another for Johann.

The greater prize must always be considered over the temporary advantage... and a part of him is sick that his strategy is now employed with Johann where it never was, where it's never had a place. He hates that flood more and more, as much for what it had done as for the cracks its aftermath caused. Johann wonders why he hasn't said he loves him nearly so much and it has nothing to do with a lack of love.

Everything to do with a need for distance. Distance he'd never thought he'd need before.

He can feel his heartrate flicker up in his throat.

He takes Johann's hand, fingers soft.

"I am hardly the one who pretends most often. And I have never believed your apathy. Not since the beginning, even. So I could ask the same."

He shakes his head a little, clearing the strands from his face. "I've been working on it," he grumbles under his breath.

Then, because he owes him something better than that as far as an explanation, he continues. "Ever since we met properly, you've never been without me. Do you realize that? I have. I was without you at home and then I came here and I was without you. Apathy was the only defense I had."

"You had me and then you lost me and you... responded as thus?" he posits gently enough. His fingers entwine with Johann's.

"I had you and lost you and had to pretend that nothing affected me because I was originally told I needed to - sever you completely."

He feels himself relax. "That's the origin of the apathy here."

"Something which I have not yet forgiven Dorian for," he admits quietly. This is a place of wonders, of deals, and that particular decision is one that he has some very distinct feelings about.

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