I leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Belle sprawled lazily across the couch like she owned the place which, to be fair, she technically did. The TV flickered in front of her, some early morning talk show playing, all cartoonic smiles and fake laughter.
"So," I said, raising my voice just enough for her to hear, "what do you want for breakfast?"
Without looking away from the screen, she said, "Instant noodles."
I blinked. "...That's not breakfast."
"It is now."
I exhaled through my nose, half amused, half resigned. "Fine. Instant noodles it is." I started rummaging through the cabinets when a thought hit me, freezing me mid-motion.
Wait.
How exactly was she watching the TV?
I turned toward her, brow furrowing. "Hey, question."
"Mm?"
"How are you watching that? You know—" I gestured vaguely toward the blindfold covering her eyes. "with that whole situation going on."
Belle didn't even flinch. "I can still see, just not like you do."
