Vangar genuinely felt hopelessly incompetent.
He had blown up the kitchen trying to cook, and now he had nearly set himself on fire grilling meat.
Worse still, he had made his Female Master worry over him.
"It's alright. Everyone has things they're good at and things they're not."
Rory noticed that the burst of flame from earlier had scorched the hem of Vangar's black shirt.
The fine fabric had burned through near his waist, revealing a small section of lean, toned skin beneath. A distinct patch of redness marked the area where the heat had caught him.
She lifted her eyes and looked at him seriously.
There wasn't the slightest trace of blame in her clear gaze—only genuine concern.
"You don't need to feel bad."
Letting go of his hand gently, Rory spoke in a soft, comforting voice.
