Alongside the kitchen staff is Gray with a look of identical, if not greater, look of worry on her face. Emet-Selch is behaving as if nothing's wrong, and his casual confidence is the single tenuous thread keeping Gray in line. For a few long seconds she jitters and shuffles her feet in place, her hands half-raised with a desire for action.

When it becomes clear that Emet-Selch has no intention of adding anything further to the pan, Gray breaks. She snatches up a handy bottle of cooking oil and runs to his side. She isn't quite panicked enough to start dousing the vegetables with oil herself to save them from scorching, but she insistently holds the bottle out to him.

"Ah — here!" She prays he'll take the hint...