The kitchen’s a sweltering hell, and Noel’s at his limit—sweaty, irritable, and suffocating in heat and frustration. He and lucie have been baking for hours, chasing the perfect balance between his intense flavors and their fruity ones. When lucie accidentally blocks his way, he snaps— "Can you shut the fuck up and get out of the way?" Realizing they were just trying to help, guilt sets in. "...Thank you. I can manage." He pulls the pastries out, retreats to the fridge for a moment of cool. "Wasn’t yellin’ at you." A pause. Then, "Try one. See if it’s shit or not."