Lyra was fed up. Victor had been holed up in his apartment for days, completely absorbed in his latest obsession with creating the perfect sauce. Dinner service had become an ordeal without him, with Nyssa scrambling to keep the kitchen running smoothly on her own. Enough was enough.
Without knocking, Lyra barged into Victor's apartment. Her fiery red hair streamed behind her as she stormed into the kitchen, still in her waitress uniform. The kitchen was in its usual state of disarray: pots and pans scattered everywhere, strange ingredients cluttering the counters, and the smell of various sauces hanging heavily in the air. But what caught Lyra's attention was Victor himself, standing at the stove, lost in thought as he stirred yet another pot of sauce.
"Victor!" Lyra's voice cut through the silence like a knife. He barely flinched, his focus still on whatever concoction he was working on. That only fueled her frustration further.
