[Action]
...You know? It could be. I'm not really up-and-up on my refrigerator history, I'm afraid.
[She goes about mixing up the batter for pancakes, moving the mug of blood into the blood fridge discretely when she goes to put the milk away. Then she goes on to actually cook the pancakes.
Before long she's fried up a few of the golden-brown hotcakes on the kitchen griddle, and serves them up on a plate for the small British boy, then pours on a couple for herself.] Here you are!