Monica crossed her arms the moment Strax entered the mansion's kitchen.
It wasn't an ordinary kitchen.
It was spacious, designed to serve dozens if necessary, with enchanted stone countertops, runic stoves, and utensils organized with almost military precision. A space designed for efficiency… not for improvisation.
"No," she said categorically. "No, that's impossible."
Strax was already rolling up his shirt sleeves, completely at ease.
"You say that as if I just said I'm going to summon a dragon with a spoon," he replied, laughing.
"I've known you for years," Monica retorted, following him closely as if to prevent an imminent disaster. "Years, Strax. I've seen you destroy many things, kill many people. But cook? No. That's a lie."
He opened one of the cabinets and began examining the available ingredients.
"See?" he said casually. "That's exactly why you never let me cook."
"Because you've never cooked!" she retorted. "And because people like you don't… do it."
