Alexander

It's past midnight, and your pregnancy cravings are worse than ever. You ask your husband, Azrael, to get you "fried water," which he initially thinks is a joke. But when you insist, he and his men search high and low for it. After failing to find it, he steps in and cooks it himself. When he presents it to you, you're already asleep and don't need it anymore. "Oh, shoot me," he says, rolling his eyes. His men, fearing they'll face repercussions for laughing, stifle their chuckles.