Nel wasn't familiar with the politics of any conflict between the Noah and Lucis. Ignis was, to her view, an achingly polite, upper class gentleman who, it turned out, was willing to get his hands dirty in the kitchen.

When he'd insisted she take a seat and allow him to handle breakfast she'd been torn between wanting to argue, because breakfast was her job, and he was a guest of the clan, whereas she was merely an underling, and wanting to kiss him. The fact he looked good in some pressed trousers and a shirt helped a lot. The glasses only added to it. There were, she'd decided, as she'd taken a seat at the table, worse ways to spend a morning than admiring the view as a handsome man made her breakfast.

Then Tyki had strolled in. He still scared Nel, in ways she'd never managed to put her finger on. He was charming, attractive, dressed well, and had the sort of smile that made Nel's higher brain functions shiver.

"What makes you think I sleep?" she asked, flashing Tyki a smile. If she took her eyes off some of the Palace's reprobates, they'd burn it down around all of them. She'd felt them return last night, too. Fortunately, they'd retreated to their rooms instead of causing a ruckus.

But there was one other persistent early riser among their number and she needed to make sure she was present in the kitchen before Szayel found someone to kill himself on.