Genesis may hear some muttered swearing as he gets closer. Fryer grease tends to spatter, and Balthazar's managed to get some on his shirt. Talent! He's fortunate that angels are so hard to injure. Otherwise, he would have a nasty burn.

Still, whatever he's pulled out of the fryer to drain looks like it's appropriately cooked. The sugary smell is stronger once inside the kitchen.

Leaning over the sink to try and scrub the grease spot off the hem of his shirt, Balthazar glances up when the stranger enters, immediately apologetic for cursing his head off. "Er. Sorry. Hello, I'm making a mess on the counter."