Galeas picks happily at the tippaleipä between offering a healthy amount to whatever plate Mordred's picked up (or his hands, tbh, because not having a vessel to eat out of or off of doesn't mean his husband should be denied sweets). He listens to the other envoy between tasting little bits of the breaded treat and other desserts and foods settled out in front of them, nodding all along the way.

"Is there an angel you can ask to find the best place for something like that? Whenever I'm looking for advice on prayer and rituals, I ask the Seraphim. They know everything."