"Good morning! I made breakfast! Just like ho-- like in Latveria!" Vincent corrects himself out of courtesy, his grin wavering momentarily, as he holds the tray aloft, balancing it carefully.
There is a glass of orange juice. And a cup of something that smells and looks like tea in the same manner that a deinonychus resembles a turkey.
There was also an apple, clean and sliced, if somewhat clumsily. Next to the fruit was... well, Kristoff would probably have to ask, but there was still at least some scent of pumpkin left. A cup of yogurt looks safe.
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