"Was. Guild leader privileges."
"You don't know where anything is."
"I have the card. The card has diagrams."
She sat there, red-eyed and clutching the counter's edge, and watched the Paragon of Sin squint at her batter instructions like an ancient text.
He measured the flour twice. He cracked the first egg competently and the second one vengefully, and picked shell out of the bowl while pretending she couldn't see him do it. When he poured the batter, he poured with conviction, and the fill line could file a complaint.
The iron hissed in protest. Batter breached the edges and dripped onto the counter in slow, doomed ribbons.
"You drowned it," Alice whispered.
"I committed to a generous pour."
"The line exists, big brother. Agatha's cooks get expelled for less."
"I'm her boss. Let's see her try expelling me."
"That doesn't mean you can make mistakes... The card says level, big brother. Level. Revision twelve exists because of the fill line..."
