Wanda yawned as she stepped into the dining room, treading over the corpses of Santa Claus and reindeer dolls. Broken plastic toys hidden in the carpet dug into the soles of her feet, jolting her awake. A vinyl record played an outdated Hollywood movie theme over and over, and the warm air carried the stale scent of old film reels.
She wore thick cotton pajamas patterned with strawberries, which matched her hair color quite well. Before going to bed last night, she had been surprised to discover that the toiletries in her bathroom were exactly the same brand she used. Most of the toiletries she had used when moving into the Penthouse Apartment had been bought together with Salomon. She simply had not expected him to remember her preferences. Wanda was deeply touched by someone else's concern, especially after Pietro had developed other ideas and abandoned the path Salomon had chosen for him. The two Maximoffs had no choice but to head in entirely opposite directions. Familiar scents helped her sleep peacefully on an unfamiliar pillow, to the point that when she stepped out of her room, she had not even realized she was no longer in her own apartment.
She was still somewhat dazed when she opened her eyes, until the aromas of grease, sugar, and tea rushed into her mind.
"Come on, don't let Dinah's fried bacon go cold." The Arcanist sitting in the armchair beckoned Wanda to sit beside him. He held a newspaper, while the sweetened black tea in the ceramic cup before him gave off an enticing fragrance. Seeing that Wanda was awake, Salomon unobtrusively covered page three of The Sun. Dinah, wearing high heels, silently walked over with a plate and set it down beside Wanda. Such intimate service threw the young Witch into