Thankfully, the burn didn’t look too bad although Wiggy would have liked to at least put some cold-cream or even ice on it. However, as Frankie withdrew her arm and proceeded to casually wipe her digits on her uniform, the technician knew that the mechanic wasn’t going to allow any chance of that happening. A fact which left her disappointed even if she chose not to voice her objection over it, other than perhaps to allow a concerned frown to cross her lips. Having worked with the mechanic for some time, the technician had quickly learnt how pointless it was to argue over such incidents. Frankie was just too much of a “suck-it-up” kind of gal while Wiggy herself needed to fuss over every tiny detail or accident.<br/><br/>With a mixed sigh of frustration and relief, the technician was far too lost in such feelings to respond to trivial questions of salt or take note of the arm which the blonde had draped over her shoulder. Only when Frankie came out of the cupboard with a small salt shaker did she finally wake up enough to react. “There was actually salt in there,” she thought in disbelief, a little surprised and embarrassed over how little effort she actually put into the whole exercise of searching. This caused a slight blush to her cheeks as she became a little self-conscious over how transparent her previous actions might have been.<br/><br/>As Frankie went about her business, like nothing had happened, Wiggy climbed to her feet and leaned back against the cupboard, resting her hands on either side of the counter’s edge as she attempted to forget and relax. “Right, a kick, just what I need,” Wiggy quipped wryly in response to the comment on hot sauce, only to quickly add, “Sure, I’d love some, just be careful of any more bumps in the road.” She turned to eye the pot with some concern even as she said it. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”