The clatter of plates and the hum of the coffee maker had faded, the breakfast table was now cleared, its surface wiped clean as Kael was about to start with the mission briefing.
_______
Fifteen minutes earlier
The kitchen had been a battlefield of voices, Freya's sharp tongue slicing through Rhea's efforts with relentless mockery.
Freya, dressed in a fitted cyan t-shirt and dark navy pants that hugged her curves perfectly, had leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with mischief as she poked at Rhea's cooking.
"These eggs are barely edible, Rhea," Freya said, her voice dripping with disdain as she speared a forkful, her lips curling. "Did you cook them with your fire? Tastes like ash."
Rhea, her crimson hair bouncing as she leaned across the table, her white tank top stretching over her toned frame, shot back, "Keep complaining, icy, but I don't see you spitting it out. Maybe you like the taste of my ash."
Freya's smirk widened, her fork pausing mid-air.
