"Gweeen!”

Suddenly, a loud voice echoed from unknown whereabouts, shaking even the locked bathroom. And once again, I jumped back steps away from the showerhead in reflex. Luckily, as much as I was shocked by the yell, I was still able to rely on my coordination and balanced myself on top of the slippery floor. Once my footing was sure, I tilted my head in annoyance, knowing that the voice could have only come from Angel.

“Gween! Come here!”

But even before he let me sigh, he had already launched another attack --magnitude 8.0, now visibly shaking the glass door that was separating the shower room from the rest of the bathroom. Fortunately, the residue of the previous shout had put my status in alert, and made me readier for the disaster. I guess this is what you would call as technological advancement.

However, even if my defenses were up, I still have not developed a proper way to counter-attack. And teeny bit consumed by irritation, I went to shoot a primitive weapon.

“I’m taking a bath you insolent slug!!”

Stooping down to his level, I shouted with comparable volume as if determined to cooperate with Angel to shatter the glass door in front of me. But soon, I regained my senses and realized that I had just done something moronic. Still, with water bouncing off my skin, I knew that I was blushing without looking at the mirror.

But after a while, Angel left no response and left the house as it was. Besides the continuous trickling of water, I was not able to hear anything else. As much as it was embarrassing, I guess it did the trick.

Assuming so, I went to grab a bottle of shampoo that was just placed beside the showerhead, thinking to continue my bath.

"What? I can't hear you!”

But just as I did so, Angel broke the silence once more, demonstrating how ineffective my crude attempt of offense was. And as I let my guard down for a few seconds, the bottle of shampoo was knocked off from my hand by Angel’s soundwaves. As the bottle thunked on the wet floor after slipping off my hand, I was in disbelief of how dysfunctional this communication was.

And because it was exactly so, I stopped, picking the bottle of shampoo up without any desire of replying to Angel’s question. By sheer good luck, Angel did not further attempt to test the architectural strength of the house and allowed me to focus back on what I was originally doing. Yet of course, my mind was still jogged by the sudden urgency that Angel had raised. Somewhat inattentive to it, I was not aware of myself rushing to finish the shower. Once I had put my uniforms on, I immediately unlocked the bathroom’s door and slammed it open it with a mixture of fury and imminence.

“Oh, you were taking a shower?”

And exactly as I did, Angel greeted me with an aloof manner, which annoyed me further. But just as I was about to give him a piece of my mind, my vocal cord was halted by the sight that was presented right in front of me.

“Eat. I was afraid that these’ll get cold.”

Angel, who was standing right in front of the kitchen sink, held a pan and pointed them towards the dining table. He was still dressed in total white, only to be accessorized by an apron that had no pattern nor color. The pan that he held looked greasy, glistening as it reflected the lightbulb’s illumination that came from just above him. And with the kitchen sink running, it was obvious that he was washing the kitchen utensils that he just used.

“You made breakfast?”

As if Angel willed it, I walked towards the dining table and sat on one of the chairs that surrounded it. Now in front of me, was a photogenic example of how a western breakfast should look like. It was a single plate that served a portion of scrambled eggs, two pieces of bacon, and a single stack of pancake that was topped with a small knob of butter.

“Here.”

As my attention was captured by the food, I did not notice Angel, who had already managed to remove his apron, standing right beside me. He then shattered my previous focus, holding both a knife and fork, placing them between the plate and my sights. And as I was about to take what he had offered, naturally, I spouted,

“Are they clean?”

Along with the line, I imagined myself smirking, casually teasing him just out of habits. In wait of his response, I drove my eyes to the very corner in order to watch Angel without moving my head.

Angel then paused for a bit, driving his eyes to the corner as well to reply my glance without moving his jaws. With an unchanging expression, he retracted his eyes to the center and spoke,

“Yes, they are.”

He answered me seriously and concisely, not leaving me with any opportunity to continue my motives. And as it was quite uncharacteristic of him to do so, I was slightly dumbfounded and did not know what to say. But then, his lips turned similar to how I had just imagined mine. With a smirk yet poker gaze, he continued,

“Or if you don’t believe me, you can just eat with your hands. They do that in Indonesia, don’t they?”

“Uh...”

Angel then pulled back his hand and squeezed the eating utensils firmly in his grasp. Still with a smirk on his face, he turned his body around ninety degrees and then walked away. And as I thought he intended to go back to the kitchen, he stopped just beside another chair that was parallel to my seat. To my surprise, he drew the chair that was beside him and also sat down around the dining table. Just by then, I had only noticed that there was another plate that had the same exact contents as the one that was in front of me. And out of his hand, he placed down another set of knife and fork on the table. Remarkably, I had not noticed that he has been holding two pairs of knife and fork until now.

Still holding one pair with his hand, he picked up the knife that he had just placed on the table with the other. With the knife, he then sliced a small piece off the pancake, applying some of the butter to the sliced piece in the process. However, there was no way that he could pick the slice up only with the knife. But just as I thought as such, the partner of the knife flew off the table and stabbed the sliced piece of pancake. Magically, it then flew again. Off the plate; right into Angel’s piehole.

Ck. I forgot that he can do that.

“Hmmmmmm. So good.”

Angel set his eyes closed while at the same time chewing, showing that he was savoring the delicacy. But out of that gesture, I could see that his eyes were not entirely closed, somewhat squinting at me sneeringly, then taunting me by moving his other hand that he has been using to hold my pair of cutlery in view. He would then rapidly stretch out his arms forward and immediately pull it back once it was just centimeters away from me. And while he does so, he did not even act to conceal his motives; grinning ever widely. He looked like nothing but a kid.

But I really just wonder who exactly was.

“Fine. I declare my lost.”