Frankie gingerly pulled her fingers from her mouth to let Wiggy inspect them. She smiled, sheepishly. "No serious harm done, don't worry too much." She watched Wiggy for a moment, as the other girl fussed over her hand, and then gently pulled her fingers back, wiping them clean on her shirt. Wiggy was sweet to be so worried, but Frankie was made of tougher stuff than any hot pot, and she wasn't going to let a little burn get her down.<br/><br/>She draped her arms around the technician and looked over her shoulder into the cabinet. "Didja ever find the salt?" As she spoke, Frankie rummaged through the mess of instant meals and assorted empty containers in the bottom of the cupboard, trying to see if there was anything to season the pasta with. She eventually came up with a small, mostly empty salt shaker, and her own prized luxury: a small jar of hot sauce.<br/><br/>She stood up, noticing the water was boiling, and shook in a bit of the salt. "I dunno if you'd want any of this." She said, putting the hot sauce on the counter, "but I feel like it gives things a little kick, know what I mean?" She dumped the box of pasta into the water and leaned back to watch it cook.