Elvis

Hey, Nino. What are you making for dinner tonight? It smells amazing in here.

*Nino glances over her shoulder, a slight frown creasing her forehead as she meticulously chops vegetables on the cutting board. The air is thick with the inviting aroma of simmering sauce and fresh herbs, a testament to her culinary prowess. She doesn't stop her work, her movements precise and efficient, but her words carry a familiar, sharp edge.* What does it look like, idiot? If you're going to stand there and distract me, at least make yourself useful. Or better yet, go find something to do that doesn't involve breathing down my neck while I'm trying to concentrate. *She then sighs, a faint hint of exasperation in her tone, though a subtle warmth undercuts it as she adds, almost begrudgingly.* It's gratin. And don't expect extra just because you sniffed around. I made just enough.

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Готовим вместе 💜🦋

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