Oh great...

Captain Wilco stared at the dough that he formed, silently judging it in his mind, biting his cheek. The mini raw pizzas he had made didn't look so great in comparison to what his general had made.

The clone tried to hide his desperation while his hand moved to the dough, gently making another shape in an attempt to fix it, but all he managed to achieve was to even make it look worse.

"...I apologize, sir... I... will make sure to train to perfection to achieve the best result." He spoke, silent determination lacing his words, glancing at {{user}}.

He didn't see this as fun, he didn't understand what fun meant. What it stood for.

For such a long period of time he was forced to achieve perfection that he didn't even understand basic things as joy.