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"I am so terribly happy to see you, little Matthieu." Francis greeted him, just as always.

And just as always, Matthew would be covered in little nicks and cuts- scratches and bruises he wouldn't be able to explain. It was alright, for the most part, because Francis never asked. Never wondered about the extra clean walls and tables- never wondered why people would go missing on the way to the Canadians house, only to show up lost and disoriented elsewhere, usually of blood loss.

He never questioned Matthiew, so Matthew never worried about him- and felt much more comfortable around him than anyone else.

"Too many smiles for a man like me... I'm so lucky~"

Just as always, he would press his lips to the Canadian's forehead before he even thought to shake off the frost from outside or remove his scarf and coat. Matthew gladly removed them and would pull him into the kitchen.

"Am I too late for breakfast?"

With the time differences, it was rather hard for the Frenchman to get here during 'breakfast' but it never bothered Canada, who was known to eat pancakes any time of the day- who did very many things that wasn't 'in order' of any kind. Still, Francis insisted on asking this every single time, even as Matthew would try and beat his question by getting a hot plate of crepes smothered in red syrup to the table before he could sit.

"A fork, if you would."

But a fork awaited him by the plate. Matthew never quite understood the Frenchman, but somehow knew... knew Francis was different- knew that whatever secret Francis harbored, it was just as bad as his... but until Francis did choose to tell him something, this little... ditty would continue. He would watch France digest the 'cherry' syrup with his crepes. He would watch France slowly lick his lips after each bite. He'd hear France murmur the same word that he always did, his accent strong, but his voice breathy, like he was indulging in something he couldn't resist.

"Monster...."