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Blaise stood over the stove, her mind wandering back to the man from the night before. He was suspicious as hell, that much was true, but there was something… off about him. He seemed dangerous, but not in the traditional sense. It was so strange and she just couldn’t put her finger on it. The smell of burning food snapped her out of her daze.

‘Crap!’, she lifted the pan off the burner, scraping at the toast that was stuck to the bottom. It was nearly black but still edible, and she couldn’t afford to waste food. She flipped the toast over to let the other side cook.

What did that man even want? Was he trying to break in? Something told her that wasn’t the case. And if he were actually friends with Heriberto, wouldn’t he have said so? Speaking of the purple-skinned man, she wanted to see him again. Judging from what she had seen, he works from early morning to late morning, while Blaise’s schedule kept her out through the night.

That made it hard for them to come across one another in the hallway. Should she head over and –

A sharp sting licked at her skin and she yelped, dropping the pan.

‘Shit!’, she scrambled for the fire extinguisher under the sink and quickly put out the fire, leaving her clothes singed and the floor covered in ash. The food was covered in foam and ash, completely inedible.

She groaned in annoyance, kicking the stove before. ‘Guess I’m eating a can of franks and beans for breakfast…’ With a heavy sigh, Blaise pulled out one of the cans from the cabinet, emptying it into a bowl. She hadn’t bought a microwave and she honestly didn’t want to risk the stove catching fire again, so she ended up just eating them at room temperature.

She fell into the kitchen table with a sigh. ‘Today has not started well at all. I wonder, is this karma?’

‘Nah, no way. Karma ain’t real!’ she chuckled, wiping some of the soot from her face before digging into her food. It wasn’t the best thing in the world, but it could have been a lot worse, in her opinion. What if it had onions in it? Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought. She really hates onions.

Astra pawed his way into the kitchen as he usually did whenever she made food, jumping up onto the table. When his orange eyes landed on his owner, he let out a yowl and nearly fell off the table. She just looked at him blankly, chewing her beans and franks.

His eyes narrowed as he crept forward, poking her arm with a paw and making a strangled noise.

“I got distracted,” she muttered, picking out a frank and setting it on the table in front of him.

He turned his nose up with a huff.

“Don’t be picky, you brat.” She scowled, pointing at him with the spoon. “I didn’t raise you to be so spoiled.”

True enough, she hadn’t. Growing up in an orphanage, she wasn’t afforded anything other than basic necessities, and that stuck with her when she adopted Astra. She provided him with the items to fulfill his basic needs and nothing else, but when she was living with the Villareal family, Luna and Max spoiled him rotten, buying him a bunch of toys and giving him only the best food money could buy.

‘I wonder how Jacques is doing. He hasn’t called to check in with me… is my boss giving him updates?’, she frowned, turning her gaze to the window, watching as small flecks of snow fell from the sky.

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