The Oven's door yawned wider, its glowing coils humming like the choir of some infernal casserole. Heat shimmered across the counters, curling icicles into tears of condensation. Butter drips thawed into oily puddles. The blender whispered, "Finally, a spa day."
Rocky Road lifted his marshmallow scepter in defiance. "We shall not be BAKED!" But even as he spoke, his fudge veins softened, drooping like an overdone soufflé. Duchess Mint Chip gasped as her breath turned steamy instead of frosty. "This is indecent. I'm perspiring mint!"
Elder Vanilla, unflinching, simply sighed. "All things warm end bland. Roast a peach, and it tastes of nothing but… warm peach." The monotone cracked slightly again, like a popsicle splitting on pavement. "Unacceptable. Utterly unacceptable."
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Scene: Lucien's Scorched Comeback
