Work Text:
Fu Hua really should be scolding Kiana, shouldn’t she.
The fire thankfully wasn’t too hard to put out —Herrscher or no Herrscher, the fire extinguisher works the same— but there is still a blackened ceiling and a burnt chicken to deal with.
Now why, pray tell, isn’t she scolding Kiana?
Other than the fact that her girlfriend looks like a kicked puppy (Fu Hua knows she isn’t faking all of it, she was for sure looking forward to a well-cooked chicken) there is also that it’s, kind of hot in here.
Not because of the fire, just… thinking about the immense lack of wisdom necessary to think cooking a chicken in your hands, with an open flame, is a good idea…
Unfortunately, she is endeared. It’s giving Fu Hua all kinds of non food-related stomach flips.
“I’ll deal with the chicken. Wash your hands, fly up there and clean the ceiling, alright?”
Delighted by the unfortunate fact that she is getting away with this, Kiana’s crocodile sourness turns into a bright smile. “Yes, Class Monitor!” There she goes to the sink.
Fu Hua stares at the poor crispy whisper of a chicken. There is no saving it. Even when she tentatively tears off a leg to examine the inside… it’s blackened all the way through, hardly tastier than a piece of charcoal.
Though the irony isn’t lost on her, she silently apologizes to her ex-brethren and throws the burnt thing away. They can eat cup noodles for dinner, it’s fine… it’s fine…
Her turn to wash her hands. While Kiana busies herself with the ceiling, Fu Hua passes her hands under the water, and…
Where did the hand soap go?
Just as this question pops into Fu Hua’s head, the soap bops onto it.
“Oops! Sorry, I dropped it!”
Is… Is this girl trying to clean smoke off the ceiling with handsoap?
“Kiana.”
“…yes?” It seems that from Fu Hua’s dangerous tone, Kiana has picked up on perhaps having made some kind of mistake.
“I’ll… I’ll do it. Go wait for me in the bedroom.”