"Ex-cuse me?!" Felice stormed over to the other boy, eyes flashing angrily with a clear misinterpretation at the 'poison' statement. "Are you trying to tell me that you have a [i]problem[/i] with what I'm doing? Well, let me tell you something, 'Cassanova Carluccio'! When you have to cook for one hundred or more people every day, three times a day, with only one person helping and not a single [i]freaking cookbook[/i] in this entire [i]maladetta cucina[/i] and no time between classes and mealtimes to go to the freaking [i]useless[/i] library to find one, then you can talk to me about my kitchen skills!" 

Taking a few deep breaths, the boy stopped gesturing wildly around the kitchen and quickly moved to check the rice. "And besides that, this is clearly not class time. I am already cooking, so what do you think is going to happen if you distract me now, ah? And if you're teaching me new dishes at this time of day, that means more food that has to go somewhere and risk getting wasted because we already have a menu we're working on. What exactly were you planning to do with that? If you're going to teach, then think about your class plans first, dammit!"