And then, just like that, Safiya
did drop from the ceiling. Eavesdropping on them, apparently! Beauregard had half a mind to chase her out, to declare that this was a gentlemen's affair, but it was her birthday after all. She stood arms akimbo, Raziyya's bold young daughter.
"I touched one just now!" he said cheerfully.
"We stop when the blood boils, not when the cups melt."If the plastic warped away and its contents left a cool pool on the bottom of the microwave, that would simply need to be the way they continued for some time.
The first minute, Beauregard's guess, proved
uneventful. He opened the door, peeked lazily in. With the microwave above the oven as it was, he wasn't offered the best vantage point for looking into the cups. But everything seemed still enough, not even a cloud of steam to threaten.
"I am defeated," he complained with a grand sigh. Onto the second minute, then. Steam fogged the door slightly, though that didn't inherently mean it was a rolling boil. As the
second minute passed, he stopped the microwave again.
"Our moment of truth," he said, looking quite directly to Safiya, brows rising to lift the level of drama with it. With showiness, he lifted a hand to the door, tilted his head upward, and lightly yanked. The odor released was was decidedly notable, though it appeared the seconds required for his drama had been enough to hide that the blood had, in fact, been at a rolling boil. He peered within, though not with much commitment, hardly wanting steam in his face.
"No boil, birthday girl."