Coming out of one of the other doors in the western greens is a young man wearing a kilt. He's carrying a small pot of his own with a congealed mass of something in it that might have, at one time, actually been food. Now it's barely identifiable as such, and the young man is holding it well away from his face as he goes to head towards the small garden next to his townhouse - perhaps meaning to bury the offending item. Or, possibly, to let some of the burnt smell dissipate before trying to figure out what to do with the pot's contents.

Whatever his plans are, they don't seem to include running into a lassie brandishing a frying pan. As he happens to look up and spot Rapunzel, he visibly stops in his tracks, trying not to look too guilty at being caught.

"Er, hello."