"Emergency! Emergency! Ben to Quintin! Ben to Quintin!"
As soon as Bennett finished his words with the walkie-talkie, Mr. Quintin immediately responded as if he had been waiting.
"Got it! Got it!"
Mr. Quintin said confidently, "Have you eaten breakfast? Have you been amazed by my superb cooking skills?"
"Shame on you. There's no surprise, only shock. After my mother finished eating your murdering cuisine, she almost called the police."
Bennett shrugged and was speechless.
"Murdering cuisine?"
Mr. Quintin's tone was cold, and he didn't buy it. "I made breakfast according to the recipes. I devoted my passion and love to it... I've even spent an hour on bread. How can it be called murdering cuisine?"