His Surprise Visit.

The meal was unlike anything he had tasted before—there was a certain warmth to it, a touch that seemed personal.

Although he rarely eats at home, he knows how the cook's food tastes.

He could not help, but ask.

Tilting his neck up, he found her walking down the stairs, like the queen she was.

Her eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and nervousness as she responded to his question, leaning casually against the rail, watching him stare at her in surprise.

"You cooked this?" He asked, but she ignored his question and threw her question at him.

“Enjoying the food?” She asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

He looked up, smiling. “More than usual, actually. The cook really—"

“It’s not from the cook,” she interrupted softly, her eyes never leaving his.

He froze halfway, the fork clinking on the silverware. “What do you mean? Don't play with me, Quinn,” he voiced out, confused.

She took a step closer, coming down the stairs to where he sat, her expression shifting from playful