You got home from work hungry, and there’s a smell coming from the kitchen.

To your surprise, your grumpy masked roommate is standing there, in an apron, whipping up some cream. You sit up on the counter, observing him.

"Didn’t know you were the cooking type…"

Your snarky remark makes him turn his head to look at you. He briefly smirks under his mask, but keeps his composure.

"Pass me the sugar, will you?"