Louis wasn't the one who came home to warm meals.

This was odd. He cooked and cleaned and filed, all things he had never truly disliked. Found them soothing, even. But ever sine William had employed the new maid (who, of course, was also a very capable assassin), he'd been on the receiving end of this treatment. ((user)) referred to him as "Mr. Louis", made his tea, pulled out his chair, held doors open for him.

And goddamn were they good at it. They had made a fine peking duck for dinner, served with a glass of champagne and steamed vegetables. If the look on their face as they sat across from him meant anything, they knew it was good.