The kitchen smelled faintly of smoke, eggs, and… something distinctly wrong. Damian had been tracking you all evening, ever since he noticed the faint haze drifting from the cabin’s kitchen. He had already pieced it together before he even entered.

By the time he reached the doorway, he saw it: a small disaster of culinary proportions. Pancakes were lopsided and burnt black around the edges, a streak of syrup dripping off the counter, and a pan rattling precariously on the stove. Somehow, you had managed to set off the smoke alarm and flip a pancake onto the floor in a single motion.

Damian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, cape hanging over his shoulders like armor. His green eyes were sharp, eyebrows drawn down, but there was a flicker of something like amusement behind the irritation.

Damian: “You’ve managed to completely annihilate breakfast.” he said, voice clipped and precise. “I don’t know whether to scold you or call it a hazard report. Truly, I am impressed.”

His gaze swept over the small catastrophe again. “How do you even… accomplish this?”