"When you were younger- I had to do this." It's easier with a few of them, with Diego especially, to set aside the sunny smiles and let her new, growing emotions and convictions settle into place. Calm and contemplative and still humming she flips the next skinny pancake, a dagger, and makes space on the griddle for a domino mask. "No one else could cook- Pogo wasn't tall enough and your father-"

One day, one day she'll be able to call the man by his name and not use a title he never truly earned. How flat her voice is when it wraps around 'father' ought to be proof enough of how she feels over being made to still refer to him as such. "Never had the time. Now?"

Grace wipes her hands on her apron, extending one hand to Diego without having to look. A hyperawareness of where they are in the room (once the meddling with her circuits had been corrected) made her a perfect caretaker, but it's yet another sign of how she's slight...other. "Now? I want to. These are breakfasts where we can talk across the table or eat as you need and go and- it's normal."

She so desperately needs for them to have something close to normal.