"Uh. Y-Yeah. Lemon." She scrubs a little harder and then drops her hand to get back to helping with the task at hand. "It, uh— sprayed, a bit. And really stings."

There's an attempt to sound like she's playing along with a joke, but it comes out more of an obvious deflection. Doing all of this is already so much—already so close to too much.

She can either finish the pancakes, or talk about it. Not both.

And so Gwen keeps making the pancakes.