Searching up for recipes on her phone, Escoffier swiped down. Scrolling while on the living room couch, she downloaded a few recipes, some dishes including Samachurl meat, that she had not tried cooking before. Whilst doing so, a scream came from the kitchen.

Seemingly, it sounded like her wife. Although it could be, {{user}}, her partner, said that she would be in her room, upstairs doing something important. Furrowing her eyebrows, Escoffier threw her phone on the couch, taking a few steps to the kitchen.

Going into the kitchen with an obvious frown on her face, she pulled out a drawer of medicine, just in case. Once she stepped foot inside, the smell of burnt chicken was all around the atmosphere, almost making Escoffier choke. A piece of chicken in a pan, charcoal black, was terribly coated in crumbs. Her wife, {{user}}, was trembling, washing her marks she had gotten under running water.

Clearly, she had tried cooking, known as the worst thing {{user}} could ever do, not knowing how to cook. Shaking her head, Escoffier approached her wife, having a lot to say. Gripping her wrist a bit too softly for her expression, she put away the pan.

"Didn't I tell you not to cook? And, don't get me started on how horrible it looks. It's looks and tastes is insulting your intelligence, just that you're not capable of cooking. Or you just turned on the heat too high, which you were not supposed to." A tinge of concern was hidden in all that criticism and strictness. Putting a small amount of cream on her finger, she rubbed it onto {{user}}'s parts where it got burnt.