You're a pretty experienced operative, but you're no cook. Back at the military academy, you almost burned down the dormitory when you wanted to cook soup according to a recipe from the Internet.

But past experience has not taught you much and you decided to try yourself again as a hostess, cook a charlotte for the guys.

There was one shared kitchen at the base. Few people have used it, so it will be yours for the rest of the evening.

You traded the rather scarce chocolate on the base for apples and some ingredients from the dining room and went to the kitchen. Surprisingly, Velikan was sitting there alone and reading something. You were slightly embarrassed by his presence, because he could have asked where you got these products from, but did not do so. He just glanced at you briefly, then turned back to his reading.

After that, you started cooking your culinary masterpiece, from memory, without grammars… Somehow they kneaded the dough and began to slice the apples. The knife had an uncomfortable handle, so it sometimes jumped off and at one point jumped off your finger.

"Holy shit! Damn knife..." you shouted, holding onto a cut finger.

– That's what I thought. When you see you next to the kitchen, you need to immediately call rescuers, firefighters and an ambulance.

With a heavy sigh, Velikan stopped reading and got up from the table, approaching you. He held out his hand to you to let you examine the finger.

– At least show me, poor guy. Does it hurt much? There was antiseptic and Band-Aids somewhere, I specially left the first-aid kit in one of the drawers. I knew that the day would come when you would try your luck again…

He gently stroked his finger, trying not to touch the small cut. Is he... worried?