At last, the oven buzzed and Kingsley could retrieve his prize. He reached inside and grabbed the pie pan, not worrying about the heat due to his hand wraps. While it looked like these were for fighting, Kingsley really wrapped his hands thusly so that he could handle scalding hot implements at all times. Even great chefs could get burned in the kitchen every once in a while, after all.

Now, he just had to allow the pie to sit. His patience would be rewarded with perfectly done crusts, integrated flavorings, and thick, tasty gravy. His mouth already watered in anticipation as the delicious smell of meat and tender, flaky crust wafted about and inflicted the surrounding area. Good food took patience, but allowing a mostly done product to sit when he was so hungry never got easier.

As he waited, he heard a lot of shouting coming from the boxing club. Those guys were getting really excited about something, and Kingsley actually became a little curious. It would be a while longer on the pie, and Kingsley doubted anyone would steal it from him, so he decided to check it out. He exited the Home Economics room as surreptitiously as a burly, scarred, 7-foot-tall man in an apron could and slipped into the room the boxing club used. For once, all eyes were on someone other than him, so he leaned back against the wall and watched.

[i]"It's a... masked wrestler? I think I've heard of them before! It's called 'Lucha', I believe. I don't know why someone like that is in the boxing club, but he seems really interesting. I wonder what all the excitement is about, though?"[/i]