Cut open the passion fruit, scoop out the pulp and tap it into the pan. Pour in the cream, heat gently. Pour the sugar into the bowl and separate the eggs. Dribble the whites into the sugar and whisk. Pour the mixture into the pan and fold in well. Now for the secret ingredient …

Cam had a feeling it was going to be one of those days as he tapped snow off his boots, one hand against the inn wall. Flanoir was having good weather by its own standards, which made it cold and snowy and generally pulled on a person's spirit. A woman bustled past him, dragging a soggy fur trimmed coat in her wake. She went up the stairs hurriedly but Cam had lost interest in her, walking up to the counter and booking himself a room for the night. The inn keeper scribbled hurriedly in the ledger, seeming intimidated by something. Cam looked away, watching the snow fall past the frosted window panes, allowing his thoughts to drift to another time he'd been in Flanoir, looking at Lloyd. No, he hadn't looked that much. It had been too hard. To look on him would have been to invite a longing so painful in its intensity he would have fallen to his knees and wept ice.

It always snowed in Flanoir, but now seeing the snow brought those words back to him. The scene, seeing his breath plume before his eyes, feeling the shreds of warmth crossing the distance between himself and Lloyd. Even then, those few feet felt like a chasm. Even now, sometimes, it didn't feel like just a few feet.

Cam glowered internally, rubbing at his temple with his right hand as he accepted the room key with his left. Damn the snow with the accompanying sentimentality. He left the counter and climbed up the stairs. The room was warm and cosy, snow falling past the window, making the scene perfect. Or it would have been perfect except for the inexplicable trellis leaning up against the wall. Cam frowned.

What else could he do, really? Normally on seeing a trellis in one's room, a man might be expected to either ignore it, report it to the management, or hang his coat on it. Cam did none of these things, instead he threw his long coat over the back of the chair, walked over to the trellis and gave it a hard poke.
"Wonder Chef?"

The trellis didn't move. Cam sighed out, well, perhaps he had been a bit optimistic. It was just the atmosphere, being back here, back in Flanoir. The city played his heartstrings like a badly tuned harp. He would always, always be discordant. He couldn't have the one thing that would bring him back into tune.

The man sighed as he looked out of the window, crossing his arms to tuck his hands in.

Lloyd.
Lloyd could tune him, and nobody else.

The memories of all the words he had yet to speak, all the thoughts he had yet to share, they had called him back here; to Flanoir. Too much unfinished business maybe.

Some hours later, Cam undressed for bed, shedding his many black clothes and throwing them over the chair with his coat. Black wasn't his idea of a good colour to wear, it rendered him more conspicuous than he liked but his mood of late made it somehow suit.

Cam pulled back the sheets and fell on the bed. He sprawled there face down for a while, legs hanging off the edge before he ran out of breath and turned his face sideways to suck some more air. He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. This was all his own fault. He wouldn't feel like this had he just bitten the bullet and confessed to his feelings. Well, no amount of ammunition mastication was going to solve it now. Had he left it too long? Words were not so much like weapons as a pit of spikes that threatened him constantly. He pushed himself into a sitting position and grimaced, eyes drifting over to the inexplicable trellis.

Really, this was getting beyond a joke.

He pushed himself up, strode over to the trellis and gave it a hard enough kick that it fell over with a crash.

"Wonder Chef, I KNOW that's you." Cam growled, grabbing the lattice work and lifting it so he could bash it against the floor a few times. He wasn't sure that you could throttle a trellis, but was willing to give it a shot. Having Wonder Chef standing around in his room while he slept was just plain creepy.

"Did the trellis offend you? I felt it was a bit gauche myself but is throttling it really the answer?" Wonder Chef said in Cam's ear. The purple haired man yelped and spun on one heel, bringing the trellis up and around like a bludgeon, hitting the Wonder Chef in the side and slapping him down to the floor. Cam pinned him with the trellis, pushing the huge fork away with his foot, glaring down at the little blond man. Wonder Chef blinked a few times, then surveyed his situation.

"You're not going to make many friends if you go around hitting everyone you meet with gardening equipment."

Cam pulled a face and got off him, taking the trellis with him. Wonder Chef picked himself up, returning his chef hat to his golden hair and tipping it at a jaunty angle.

"Still, that was rather good. I'm impressed, you're as formidable as ever." He smiled with his eyes closed. Cam glared over his shoulder at him while he returned the battered trellis to the wall.

"You being impressed doesn't matter much to me," he grunted, trying to keep the damn thing from falling over but one of the lattices fell off. Wonder Chef sighed and wandered over to help him with it.

"I suppose it doesn't really. Bit unusual to see you in Flanoir, thought you were going on a long journey to see new places," he commented idly, sticking the broken bits back together with chewing gum. Cam stopped holding it when it was stable and sighed, looking out the window.
"I came back."

"Evidently. Just in time too, answer to my deepest, most fervent wish if you will." Wonder Chef smiled brightly. Cam felt a nightmare coming on, deciding to cut out the middle man and slink back to his bed. Wonder Chef followed him.

"You see, it's embarrassing to have to ask this but would you be my bodyguard?" He asked. Cam pulled the blankets over his head.
"No. Now go away."

There was five minutes of silence and Cam dared to hope Wonder Chef really had gone.

"You sure you won't be my bodyguard?" He felt breath on his face and opened his eyes, Wonder Chef's nose was an inch away from his. Cam fell out of the bed. Wonder Chef crawled to the edge of it and looked down at Cam with a sympathetic expression.

"That looked nasty, you alright?"
Cam's feet clamped either side of his neck and the bigger man hauled him off the bed, throwing him across the room with a deft twist of his body, flipping to his hands and then feet in one fluid motion.

Wonder Chef picked himself up and rubbed his neck.

"Well that was just uncalled fo-- urk!" he yelped when Cam's scarred left hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt and cloak. The purple haired man dragged Wonder Chef to the window and pushed it open, letting the frigid air curl in to pool by his bare feet. He lifted the cook up easily, the muscles on his arm knotting with the weight.

"When I say 'no', I don't often mean 'yes'."

And with that Wonder Chef got a quick, free lesson in how to fly.

Cam slammed the window and bolted it, moving to the door and making sure that was bolted as well. Once that was done, he returned to his bed and yanked the blankets over himself. He couldn't quite set the train of his thoughts back on track, despite many attempts and eventually drifted off to a kind of sleep where not much rest was achieved at all.

Down in the snow, Wonder Chef brushed snow off his clothes and emptied his hat, discovering a small duck in there for some reason. Since it wouldn't leave and pecked him when he tried to fish it out, he decided it may be lucky and put the hat, and consequently the duck, back on his head. He just wished he had more time to convince the other that his skills were necessary. Still, there was always the old Flanorn saying; "Actions speak louder than words".

Wonder Chef went to find a sack big enough for his soon-to-be bodyguard.