It was so early in the morning the sun hadn't risen yet. So Yang was, of course, sleepy. And when Yang was sleepy, it meant only about one, maybe two percent of her brain was working.

And Sleepy Yang decided to make coffee because Sleepy Yang liked coffee almost as much as Sleepy Yang loved herself (which wasn't all that much, but still…)

Everything was working out well with the exception that she couldn't see all that much in the dark so she had to stumble and guess which of these were actually the ingredients and if she put the right amount of ingredients.

Hot water because it would be dishonorable for her not to drink anything hot; check.

Coffee because, well… she was making coffee; check.

Mountains of sugar because Ruby wasn't the only one with a sweet tooth; check.

And now, it was time to drink…

So she drank…

And promptly spat out this offending, poisonous, barf-inducing hellish poor excuse of a beverage.

Wondering what was wrong, Not-So-Sleepy Yang used her scroll as a light source to check what had gone wrong.

The hot water was hot water. The coffee was coffee. The sugar was-

"... SALT?!"

It was then that Yang noticed she wasn't the only one in the room. Now wide awake and equipped with light, Yang could see a very mortified and disgusted and disappointed and resigned Blake.

This time, Blake was leaning more towards the angry side, and it might have something to do with the droplets of brown liquid dripping out of her soaked face… The brown liquid which she had spurted out moments ago in reflex.

"... Not again."

A great story needs a worthy sequel.

Thus, a worthy sequel I shall deliver.

I can't believe this joke of a story has more favorites than my deep, emotional, fluffy serious Pricefield story… I don't know whether to throw a tantrum or be proud of myself.