41
[There's a cyborg in the kitchen tonight, sitting at a table and looking like he wants to smack something or punt it across the city. He briefly looks up to stare at the microwave on the counter.
A minute passes.
And another.
... the microwave promptly explodes.]
Feh.
[ooc: open kitchen post! Mind the debris.]
A minute passes.
And another.
... the microwave promptly explodes.]
Feh.
[ooc: open kitchen post! Mind the debris.]