“Okay, good. I don’t think anyone else would be able to eat these,” Lirin said, grabbing another one out of the pan and swallowing it whole. “Yeah, no. They’re definitely gross.”
Then she was gone, down the hall to somewhere. Yaone and Dokugakuji staring at the space she’d left. Kougaiji shook his head.
“I trust that such a review means that you won’t be trying to bake again?”
“Yes, Lord Kougaiji ,” Yaone said, staring at the ground.
“Yeah,” Dokugakuji muttered.
“Good. You’re much more useful doing other things,” Kougaiji said. “The kitchen is not a place for people with your talents. Nor does it wish to be.”
Dokugakuji and Yaone said nothing, Yaone still looking ashamed, and Dokugakuji simply moving to pick up the pan with the remaining muffin travesties to throw them in the trash. The not-semi-edible pile.
Kougaiji paused for a moment, then shook his head and began to walk out. He was halfway out the door when he stopped, and turned around, walking back to Yaone.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Yaone carefully, cautiously, looked up, desperately hoping that she wasn’t going to be berated for risking poisoning his sister. “Yes?”
The redhead took a deep breath, looking at her for a long moment, and then glanced at Dokugakuji, who was standing by the trash receptacle.
“You did do your best, you always do,” he said.
Then he was gone. A quick turn on his heel, and he disappeared almost as quickly as his sister.
“Did he just tha...” Yaone asked.
“Yeah. I think he did,” Dokugakuji said, then smiled. “These things don’t seem to want to separate from the pan. What should I do?”
Yaone looked at him. “I have no idea. I’m not a baker.”
Muffins Fit for a Prince 3/3
“Okay, good. I don’t think anyone else would be able to eat these,” Lirin said, grabbing another one out of the pan and swallowing it whole. “Yeah, no. They’re definitely gross.”
Then she was gone, down the hall to somewhere. Yaone and Dokugakuji staring at the space she’d left. Kougaiji shook his head.
“I trust that such a review means that you won’t be trying to bake again?”
“Yes, Lord Kougaiji ,” Yaone said, staring at the ground.
“Yeah,” Dokugakuji muttered.
“Good. You’re much more useful doing other things,” Kougaiji said. “The kitchen is not a place for people with your talents. Nor does it wish to be.”
Dokugakuji and Yaone said nothing, Yaone still looking ashamed, and Dokugakuji simply moving to pick up the pan with the remaining muffin travesties to throw them in the trash. The not-semi-edible pile.
Kougaiji paused for a moment, then shook his head and began to walk out. He was halfway out the door when he stopped, and turned around, walking back to Yaone.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Yaone carefully, cautiously, looked up, desperately hoping that she wasn’t going to be berated for risking poisoning his sister. “Yes?”
The redhead took a deep breath, looking at her for a long moment, and then glanced at Dokugakuji, who was standing by the trash receptacle.
“You did do your best, you always do,” he said.
Then he was gone. A quick turn on his heel, and he disappeared almost as quickly as his sister.
“Did he just tha...” Yaone asked.
“Yeah. I think he did,” Dokugakuji said, then smiled. “These things don’t seem to want to separate from the pan. What should I do?”
Yaone looked at him. “I have no idea. I’m not a baker.”