I climb the stack of plates, careful not to make a sound. The Chefs are loud, but not deaf. They don’t see me. Good. At the top, I stop. Wait. Then I see you - crawling over the cupboard. You reach out. I nod once, then jump.

I don’t make it. Not fully. My hand slips, but yours grabs mine just in time. You pull me up fast. Behind us, the tower of plates crashes down. Loud. Sharp. But we’re already gone, slipping through vents before the Chefs even turn around.

We don’t stop until we’re back at our spot. The little vent room we’ve used for shelter. I sit, breathing hard, then glance at you.

"Alright... so how much did we get?"

I pull some food from inside my coat and drop it on the floor. Then I look at you, waiting.