Ignis smiled broadly at Marluxia recognising the taste of roses. "Yes," he confirmed. "It's made with rosewater or lemon, usually." He unfastened his apron and slipped it off, lifting it over his head and folding it carefully. It would need to go in the laundry. "I thought it made a change from cakes and pastries."

And it was a little piece of home. As much as Ignis was enjoying his time on the lowerworld, and wanted to stay longer, a part of him still missed Insomnia, or at least the people still there.