Page 85 of Black and Brown

He found a pretty good replica for the eggs but not the bacon. Mirage grabbed a flat pan with low edges, unlike in the video, but it was darn close.

He did as instructed and lined the bacon strips in the pan, then turned the fire up on the stove.

Mirage was starving, so he went with high heat, causing the flames to lick the sides of the pan.

All he needed to do was crack the eggs into a bowl, add salt, pepper, and a dash of milk, and whip it around some before he dumped it into the pan.

He was about to perform some real gourmet-style shit.

Tell me I can’t cook.

Mirage was grinning as he cracked the first two eggs with ease, but the third broke in a way that made small pieces of shell drop in the bowl. With only one egg left in the refrigerator, he did his best to scoop them out. Then the same fucking thing happened with the last one.

Dammit!

While he was fishing for shells, his bacon began going crazy.

He figured he’d better just get the eggs started and dumped the mixture in the pan.

The shells will probably soften while cooking…like soft-shelled crabs do.

All that was left was to add the salt and pepper.

Mirage stood in front of Grace’s spice rack, his blood pressure rising because something as simple as salt and pepper was camouflaged within rows of at least fifty small bottles of herbs and spices.

Oh, come the fuck on! And what the hell are bay leaves?

Giving up on salt and pepper, Mirage scrambled to find a long fork like the YouTuber used to flip the bacon, but once again, looking for anything useful in Grace’s kitchen was useless.

He opted for his dinner fork from last night that he’d just washed and attempted to flip over the first piece.

“Ow, ow, dammit!”

The grease was popping on his hands and forearms while he struggled to get them all turned over.

One side was crispy as fuck, but the other wasn’t.

Smoke was filling the kitchen. He glanced over and saw his eggs were getting pretty brown.

He used the same fork for the bacon and started stirring the eggs, but they didn’t move. They were cemented to the pan.

What the hell? I did everything right.

Then Mirage noticed the untouched butter beside the stove. He’d forgotten to put that in first.

He shrugged. Never too late.

He cut a decent-sized chunk and dropped it on top of the stiff eggs. Mirage tried like hell to loosen them up, but all he was doing was making some serious scratch marks in the bottom of the pan.

“Ow! Shit.”

Mirage rubbed his chest where the grease from the bacon hit him.

As a Raven, he could withstand a lot of pain, but apparently, not hot grease on his skin.

The kitchen was so smoky it was making his eyes burn.

The bacon was well-done—understatement—and since he couldn’t get close enough to get them out of the furious grease, he tried to move the pan to a different burner.