"You're kidding."
Reynard kept a straight face. "I'm not. Really. I think we'll do a grand job working the kitchens by ourselves. After all, you don't want to lose work, do you?"
Uncle Frank gaped at him.
"Are you crazy?" he cried. "I've never cooked a single grain of rice in my life! We'll lose more customers than we'll get if I even touch the stoves."
"You might not have cooked in your life," Reynard smiled cockily, putting his elbow on the table, "but I have."
Uncle Franke sat back, horrified. "So are you implying you'll cook for all the fifty or so customers all by yourself?"
Reynard smiled. "As long as we have all the ingredients, I think I very well can."
"You're serious about this."
"I am."
"Are you, honestly?"
"Yes."
"Can you really cook?"
"I can."
Uncle Franke raised an uncertain eyebrow. "May I take your word for it, then?"
