He finished getting the tea on the table and serving it, and then moved with more grace than Zech might have seen him. There was a certain ease he had in the kitchen, like the prep of food calmed him. "Some of them are. I don't ever remember our childhood being as rowdy as all that." He snorted as he sliced into some leftover chicken. "I don't have any brisket right now, sadly, just a chicken from my own flock." He chuckled and sliced some breast, some cheese, and some bread.

He moved to put the sandwiches on the table with a few plates. He sat and then noticed the bottle of wine. It had been a while since he'd imbibed. He stared for a moment and then murmured, "What vintage is it?"