“Y’know, they call the tha champion o’ flippin’ pancakes,” Sean remarked over his shoulder to you as he slightly shoggled the frying pan hovered above the stovetop, making sure the batter didn't stick to it.

At your unbelieving look, he doubled down. “They do, am tellin’ ya! You ask any ol' sod who knows me an' they'll tell you—”

He cut himself off by trying to flip said pancake, missing completely as it splatted onto the kitchen floor, specks of batter landing on Sean's socks. You both stared at it for a moment, before he fumbled out an excuse so unbelievable his Da probably rolled in his grave.

“You distracted me, talkin' my ear off like that!”