[The admission to poor cooking is met with a small chuckle, but Peter didn't judge him on it. After all, they were both kings, both busy and needed a great many other places than a kitchen.

Of course, don't tell that to Susan, who took great pride in learning to cook. She'd probably gladly glare both of them into submission.

So chuffed was he at his own thoughts of his sister, Peter didn't notice Regis pawing through the basket. Inside were two paper wrapped sandwiches, still hot even through the layers and smelling of something rich and meaty. Following that was a small covered cup of something that could be a soup but was actually a dipping sauce, and after that was an assortment of finger foods meant to keep good no matter how long they were out. A bottle of wine with it's glasses came last....and then that little bottle of oil.

He hadn't even bothered to try and hide it, though he did have the courtesy to blush when it was waggled at him.]

Forgive me my forward nature. Spring is the time for new love and fresh beginnings....but summer has always been about the passion of life and the heat of it against your skin. I brought it with hopes, but if it remains unused that is fine too.