Michaela
I flick on the kettle and pull my mug out of my cupboard. I have plenty of reading to do before my lectures, but I"m putting it off for as long as possible. Sometimes it"s great having the freedom to work on what I want to, but other times, it"s hard to get started.
The kitchen door swings open, with Essie and Bernie stepping inside.
"Step away from the kettle," the fae warns me the moment she sees what I"m doing.
"I"m not that bad at making tea," I counter.
thatEssie raises an eyebrow and points at one of the chairs. "Sit. I"ll do it."
Bernie chuckles. "She"s not wrong. It"s better if one of us makes it."
"It tastes fine to me," I grumble.
“And that’s why you’re not allowed to make it,” Bernie answers. “You genuinely think it tastes good?”
“I dread to think what her stew
