Jiyeon stood in the middle of her kitchen, hands on her hips, looking like a war general about to lead her troops into battle. The troops, unfortunately, consisted of Kang, who had once tried to caramelize onions by setting them on fire, and Yura, who was currently perched on a barstool sipping her coffee with an infuriatingly smug grin.
"So, let me get this straight," Jiyeon began, the irritation in her voice palpable, "we're out of flour because someone"—she shot a glare at Kang—"decided it would be a brilliant idea to attempt homemade fireworks in the alley behind the restaurant. Using. Flour."
Kang raised his hands defensively, his face a picture of remorse—or as close to remorse as Kang could muster. "It was an experiment! How was I supposed to know flour dust is explosive?"
Jiyeon's eye twitched. "Oh, I don't know, maybe from every basic safety training we've ever had? Or from the literal warnings in every cooking class?"
