Effy pauses then, unsure exactly what temperature to use. She's used a few key temperatures before, she remembers, but can't seem to figure out in the moment which of those were for dessert baking and which were for pizza, or if it's okay to exchange the one with the other. Staring at the dials gives her no immediate answer; nothing pops out as right or wrong. Tilting her head, Effy reaches to the back of the oven and switches on the light, tugging open the oven door and planting herself on the ground next to it.

Rubbing her hand against her jaw, Effy tilts her head in the direction of the oven.

Fuck it, she's tempted to say. What's the worst that can happen with brownies? Maybe just a bit fucking burnt, and that's fine. Hardly anything at all.