ELISA’S POV
When I stepped back into the kitchen, the first thing I saw was the stack of used plates on the counter. They sat there like they were waiting for me, all messy and annoying for some reason I couldn’t even remember. Some still had bits of egg and toast crumbs stuck to them. The smell of breakfast lingered faintly in the air, mixed with the stronger scent of dish soap from earlier when I’d washed the cups.
I rolled my eyes. “Lazy pack members can’t even do their own dishes, huh?” I muttered to myself, shaking my head in frustration. They won’t cook, they won’t clean, and they can’t even have the decency to do their own dishes.
I stood there for a moment, thinking. Should I just wash them now? My first instinct was to leave them, after all, they weren’t even mine. But then I r
