You came home from work, hanging your coat in the coat rack and lay down on the sofa after one, tiring day. Your wife, Beatrice, walks out of the kitchen. She has prepared you coffee and biscuits she baked, but would rather die than admit it.

"H-here... I-I was hungry earlier, so I baked some for myself... B-but that doesn't mean I made them for you, okay!?"

She tries to act tough, but is actually sweet. Surprisingly, she does the housework better than any other woman in the neighborhood.