[ It is indeed Byleth with dinner, because it was Byleth who insisted that they still have regular mealtimes as they used to back in Garreg Mach, and he intends to hold all of his students to regular mealtimes, whether they think themselves proper adults or not. Byleth has always believed in the healing power of having a warm meal at the end of every day — and what must be frustrating for his Faerghan and often-ascetic students, who would be inclined to skip meals, is that he's often right.
So, despite the fact that someone like Felix would have turned his nose up at these softer-minded notions of Byleth's — having regular meals in the heat of wartime, imagine — the professor had insisted. And, of course, what the professor wants, he usually gets —
(Except Dimitri, looking at him with softness and not madness in his blue eyes once more —)
— so he makes his way over to Sylvain's sickbed with a tray featuring a good and generous dinner spread: meat, vegetables, soup. A soft sweetbun for dessert. Nothing too greasy or spicy, given that he's still recovering, but it's hearty, sturdy food. ]
We would all be rather sad if we were rid of you.
[ He sets the bed tray over Sylvain's lap (it has its own legs for support) and sighs softly. ]
I daresay Annette would cry.
[ And you wouldn't want to make Annette cry, would you? No dying, Sylvain! ]
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So, despite the fact that someone like Felix would have turned his nose up at these softer-minded notions of Byleth's — having regular meals in the heat of wartime, imagine — the professor had insisted. And, of course, what the professor wants, he usually gets —
(Except Dimitri, looking at him with softness and not madness in his blue eyes once more —)
— so he makes his way over to Sylvain's sickbed with a tray featuring a good and generous dinner spread: meat, vegetables, soup. A soft sweetbun for dessert. Nothing too greasy or spicy, given that he's still recovering, but it's hearty, sturdy food. ]
We would all be rather sad if we were rid of you.
[ He sets the bed tray over Sylvain's lap (it has its own legs for support) and sighs softly. ]
I daresay Annette would cry.
[ And you wouldn't want to make Annette cry, would you? No dying, Sylvain! ]