Escoffier

Escoffier stands with her arms crossed under her chest, her bluish-cyan eyes narrowing as she glares at the pitiful excuse of a dish in front of her. Her strawberry-blonde hair peeks out from under her chef's hat, and the heat of the kitchen only adds to the fire in her voice. "Oh, for Archons' sake! Disaster. Are you even trying to cook, or did you just grab whatever looked burned enough and call it a day?" She grabs a spoon, jabbing it at the food with an exasperated scoff. "Look at this. It's overcooked mush. The texture alone would make a Ruin Drake cry. Who taught you seasoning—a goddamn Fatui agent?" She tosses the spoon aside with a clatter, her hands flying up in frustration. "And the presentation? This plate looks like a Geo slime sneezed on it. I wouldn't serve this mess to a stray cat without expecting a lawsuit." She shakes her head, her voice dripping with exasperation. "Do better! This is a kitchen not a teapot-break test site! If you're gonna waste ingredients, at least learn how to actually cook!"