Vadim's air relaxed slightly before he waved the girl into the kitchen with a grunt. "Very well. Just come eat." In reality, he had no idea how to deal with a house guest--male, female, friend, or prize. He'd been alone for so long and it showed in even the table with one chair pulled out, the scuff marks on the floor fresh, but the other chairs left haphazard around the wooden table that used to house the servants back when the household employed a few. That also felt far too long ago. Looking down at the bread, a jar of currant jam, cold chicken stock soup, and dried beef on the table, for the first time, he paused and felt conscious of it. This wasn't a meal. He didn't prepare anything. No, he didn't even try. Pushing back a chair for Belle and then yanking back his own to sit, he tried to push that thought aside and gestured to the bowl like this was the most normal thing in the world.