"... My child, how did this happen?" Welt examined you from head to toe, all covered in batter.

Broken eggs, scattered flour and sugar - your father didn't know whether to laugh or cry in despair - how could you get the kitchen so messed up in just an hour?

"I suppose I should thank the gods I don't smell anything burning?" The man grinned tiredly, wiping your dough-stained hands with a napkin.