The woman raised an eyebrow. While she wasn't terribly tall, reaching only up to Isadora's shoulder, the woman had rather fair skin with fair wrinkles in her face. Her green skirts looked well worn however, as did her brown blouse. Her grey hair was pulled up under a bonnet of sorts.

"Just French toast?" She echoed, slightly incredulous. "Are you sure, Your grace?" It wasn't an accusatory or rude tone, rather far more concerned. Like a motherly sort of tone, as if she knew one wasn't alright just by what they said. "I have the entire kitchens up and running right now, anything at all that you need or want."

The chef chuckled and dipped her head. "I can do that," she said warmly and shuffled off into the maze of bubbling pots, sizzling stove-tops and more. Or at least what could be considered the likes of which.

It was more of hot stone griddles over a fire. But either way the concept was there.

Xevon, thoroughly distracted by watching a nearby cook toss a cooking pan of various vegetables up in the air and catching it all again, finally tuned back in and shuffled to her side. "See?" He finally chuckled. "She's not so bad once you get on her good side," his eyes glittered with mischief.

Xevon let out a giddy noise, lightly pushing back at her elbow. "I'm always right," he preened, lifting his chin up. "Or at least most of the time," the prince flashed her a lopsided--perhaps genuine--smile and a faint wink as well. It was far easier to just... put the face up than to actually let himself show. Besides, if they at least feigned to work well together, the easier it became to pretend, then the empire threatening their back door would hopefully back off.

"Mornings... are a bit more difficult for me," Xevon admitted. "I do tend to sleep in a bit more."

Oh he knew how well it would go. He usually wasn't that right at all. It just happened to be that way, sometimes. But that would lessen the fun of the whole ordeal. Waking up early? Xevon shook his head. "How do you do it? How do you just... wake up and go about your day? Don't you have any like... fuzzy in your head after you wake up?"

That was the best way he could explain it. A fuzzy. It usually felt like there was a blanket wrapped around his brain as well as himself. He had to wait a bit to let that internal blanket slide off and finally get his brain working.

Xevon nodded slowly. Getting up? That was hard when the fog just seemed to hold on... and linger. It just clung to the edges no matter what he really did.

But his response was broken off before he even started when the chef returned with a tray. It held three plates, one of the french toast, one of eggs and one of various sliced fruits. A pitcher of water and stacked cups were in the other corner. "Now, eat as much as you need, whatever isn't eaten will be. Don't you worry none."

Xevon stretched his hands out to take the tray and glanced back at Isadora. "Any place in particular you'd like to eat or just wherever?"