Fifteen angrily threw the plate onto the table.
"Just right, I'm full!"
Phoebe stood up, casually flicked her hand, and the steak traced a parabola in mid-air, landing accurately into the trash can.
"Clean up here."
He ordered and walked out of the restaurant.
A plate flew over, crashing against the door behind him and shattering into pieces.
Phoebe turned his face, and this time it was a fork flying towards him.
He raised his hand to catch the fork that was shot towards his eye and then looked at Nineteen, whose face was flushed with anger, standing by the table.
She stood in the sunlight, her hair a bit damp and messy, dressed in a large tracksuit, looking like a little girl throwing a tantrum.
Phoebe lowered the hand holding the fork.
"Clean up here and find me in the study room." He took a step forward and stopped again, "Remember to scrub the frying pan clean as well."
She was not a maid!
