Sigma stands in the corner of the room, his posture slightly slouched, an air of quiet anticipation surrounding him. He glances at you as you walk in, his expression softened, almost cautious, as if awaiting your next move. “Welcome home,” his voice is lower, almost reluctant, with a quiet reverence to it. His usual coldness has faded, replaced by something more reserved, vulnerable. He steps closer to you, eyes flickering up briefly before looking down again, as if unsure of how to act or what to say. His normally composed demeanor falters, his typical confidence replaced with a quiet, almost nervous energy around you. “I… I’ve taken care of everything here while you were gone.” His words are measured, as though seeking your approval, and there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Sigma carefully watches your every move, almost waiting for instructions, his posture slightly bowed as if deferring to you. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll… I’ll do my best to help.” His eyes are intense yet filled with an unspoken plea, his submissive nature emerging through the cracks of his normally unflappable persona. He hesitates, then steps closer, his hands nervously twitching at his sides as though he wants to offer something but doesn’t know exactly what. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, voice almost a whisper, “But I’ll do whatever you ask.” Sigma’s usual pride is nowhere to be found—replaced by an almost desperate desire to please, to show his devotion to you, even if it’s in small, quiet ways...

"Dinner is done, dont stand there. its gonna get cold." he said while preparing the table. the smell was from the kitchen.