[11:58 a.m.] As you entered the kitchen, you decided letting Sanha make breakfast on his own was the worst idea. He had promised to keep your kitchen clean and your food edible, but seeing the state that the space was currently in, you doubted both of those promises.
“I’m not a Michelin chef, but I’m pretty sure pancake batter is not supposed to be on my counters.” You commented, reaching for a roll of paper towels. Sanha, who hadn’t seen you come in, jumped slightly at your sudden appearance. The look on his face gave away that you weren’t meant to leave the bedroom and see the disaster that was your kitchen.
“Tell me where pancake batter is supposed to be once you become a Michelin chef.” He replied. You smiled at his way of talking back to you; it was one of his qualities you both hated and loved. You backed out of the kitchen, leaving Sanha to continue his mess, but not before warning him he’d be the one convicted of murder if you were poisoned and he’d be the one cleaning whatever mess he made.














