“But also, your microwave isn’t working. I’m trying to fix it.”
“I can just buy a new one.” His head tilts. He studies the components with a slight frown. “Is this safe?”
I stiffen. “Are you asking because I’m a woman and therefore unable to do anything remotely scientific without causing radioactive pollution? Because if so, I—”
“I’m asking because I wouldn’t know where to start, and because I am so ignorant about anything remotely scientific that you could be building an atomic bomb and I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he says calmly. As though he doesn’t even need to be defensive, because the idea that me being a puny-brained girl never even entered his mind. “But you clearly can.” A pause. “Please don’t build an atomic bomb.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
He sighs. “I’ll make room for the plutonium in the cheese drawer.”
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