[The Dreamberry flicks on after having been tossed atop the table. Landing on its side somewhat askew against the spring floral arrangement, it reveals a growing cloud of smoke over the stove, followed by a swearing Sephiroth as he reaches for the oven door with his bare hand, jerking back with a yelp - that's hot, by the way
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Oh, just divine. [That's sarcasm, hear it?] It seems my good friend slash subordinate has yet to master that little gadget known as an oven timer.
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Of course, because Shiva forfend he actually watch the damned thing.
[But the General is nevertheless amused, thank the stars.]
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