fandomhighdorms | Second Floor Common Room, Monday Evening

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Second Floor Common Room, Monday Evening

Savannah's letter from the past, and his conversation with her earlier today, had convinced Anders that there was something he had to do tonight that he hadn't done in a long, long time. And he was really past due for doing it.

So yes, that's right, he was in the common room with mixing bowls, baking tins, and a whole lot of boxes of cake batter, tubs of icing, and jars of sprinkles. The first batch was out of the oven, one trayful cooling down enough to be frosted and the other already set out for more impatient people (like himself) to enjoy.

Yup. It was cupcake time.

[OOC: You know how common rooms are open? That's what this is.]

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One thing that Adah had started to find interesting about the construction of this building was that smells seemed to permeate through it like the air itself. Never sounds, though, or very rarely sounds, but the scents, at times, the aromas, were hard to ignore. She wondered if perhaps this was simply an effect on her, because another thing that she noticed that the smells were almost always pleasant. They reminded her of Kilanga, but in a completely opposite, reversed, backwards, sdrawkcab way: the village had its strong smells, too, that couldn't be ignored, but they were more likely to make your stomach turn in disgust rather than hunger, more likely to make your guys grumble in objection than in desire. That training to know where smells were coming from to avoid them was turning out to serve her well here, as she could now sense where smells were coming from to determine just how close they were and if they could, based on this deduction, be sought after without having to climb the stairs.

This particular aroma was exceptionally nice, so Adah was feeling quite glad that she could tell it was coming from just down the hall. Just a little limp, a small, dragging traverse, that brought her to the threshold of the common room (moor nommoc!) door. She leaned against the doorframe, where she was starting to feel there should be developing a small groove to the shape of her left shoulder, as she peered in for a better look at the activities, accessing the level of community intended with this baking excursion, although she had to admit that she came to expect sharing over the event of more singular feedings, which wasn't, in her experience, how things were usually done around most people.

She wasn't one to complain, however.

Makoto had been considering going for a walk now that it was safe, but the smells coming from the common room on the floor below caught 'her' attention.

'She' poked her head in. "What're you making?"

"Hey," Anders said, looking up at her with a smile -- the sort of smile that said 'hi, I'm not sure if I know you but I won't bite your head off, promise.' He gestured at the cupcakes on the counter and offered, "You know the drill with common room food, right? Welcome to it, unless you'd rather have yours covered with sweet sticky goodness . . . of the kind that I'll have to put on 'em from one of the jars, that is. 'cause otherwise ew."

"Cupcakes!" Anders said brightly; maybe a touch too brightly, but he was determined to try and keep from getting too flaily over the events of the past week. "You're welcome to 'em if you want, and there's more in the oven now."

'She' slipped further into the common room. "They do smell good," Makoto admitted, "are they hard to make?"

"Nah, not really." Anders shrugged one shoulder, electing to omit any mention of his first few mishaps, and those had really been more messy than anything else. "Just follow the instructions on the box, tweak the time a little bit when you bake 'em, oh, and make sure you get more batter in the little paper cups than on the pan or it's a world of tears trying to get 'em out again. It's kinda thera -- what's the word? Therapeutic. Not to mention tasty."

Adah returned the greeting smile congenially, enough, fingers tightening a little around the notebook she held rested against her hip, but the smile grew into a bit more of a smirk as the greeting continued on...and on, eventually drifting her eyes toward the cacophony of baking paraphernalia scattered around. Her smirk quirked at match the grin as she considered the options. Risk the sugar overload of sweet sticky goodness (from the jars, of course, indeed), or risk concocting something that would mostly end up in a jar, of the laboratory nature, to best serve as something studied and marveled at for generations of scientists.

At least anything she did try to bake was guaranteed to come out better than the cakes her mother had brought over to Africa. And she was pretty decent with a loaf of bread or a chicken when she needed to be. Cupcakes might be a little beyond her, though, so Adah ultimately decided she'd chance the ones already made. She limped forward, toward the counter, searching first for a spot empty enough to set her notebook safely there, to free up her good hand so that she could reach for one of them, giving the assumed chef and baker a slight nod, although it was more in recognition of his work than of gratitude for it.

"Therapeutic is good," 'she' agreed, "though, admittedly, I find tasty to be even better. I'll have to try making them sometime."

There was a cupcake scent, there was food he didn't need to cook ... there was Romeo.

He eyed the cupcakes hungrily; he'd eaten all right in the past, but there'd been few pennies for sweets. "Are you cooking for everyone?"

"Hi," Annette said as she walked on in. "I'm not on my floor at all but that doesn't matter right? I smelled something yummy."

Adah had clearly never seen the messes he'd made the first few times he'd tried this -- which was really probably a good thing. Now that was truly a cacaphony of baking paraphernalia.

"Have as many as you want," he encouraged.

"Hey, there's a thought," Anders said. "We could do a baking party sometime."

Anders waved at him with a spatula. "Everyone might be a little broad, but it is sort of a cupcake free-for-all, if you want some. Got chocolate there now, and there's some white cake with sprinkles, and I'm trying some lemon ones in the oven."

"Yes, I'm totally checking the directory for floor alliances when people come in, Annette," Anders teased. "And then I'm ignoring them."

"That'd be a fun thing to do," Makoto grinned, "and the amount of cupcakes that'd be made would feed Fandom for days possibly."

Adah's head tilted a little at the comment. An odd phrase, really, if you thought about it, but so were most things that people let tumble out of their mouths. As many as you want. Tnaw uoy sa ynam sa, clunky and unforgiving backwards, as if knowing that pursuit of such a thing could lead to an unforgiving upset stomach. What we want rarely meets agreement to what we should or what we must or even what we can. Especially not what we can. As she pondered such conundrums within the cupcake, she observed it carefully, as if weighing out the amount of sugar and eggs and milk and whatever else had gone into it, matching it up to some dietary table of what her stomach might allow and then promptly, methodically, set the cupcake down, on top of her notebook, where she could then much more easily start to pick off a small chunk of it to pop into her mouth.

She chewed thoughtfully, slowly, but the faint smile that emerged as she masticated the offering into easily digestible bits and the fact that she went to pick off another chunk before completely swallowing were good indications of approval.

She answered by sticking her tongue out at him and walked forward, into the kitchen. "I'm not going to be picky but one with lots and lots of sprinkles would be lovely."

"Did I do good?" asked Anders, her smile, however faint, coaxing an answering grin out of him. "I haven't mastered the art of making them melt in your mouth yet, but they're not gross at least, right?"

"And then," Anders added, laughing, "nobody would sleep for days, and we'd all be bouncing off the walls."

Anders stuck his tongue out right back, because it was the Thing To Do. "I got a ton of the little green clovery sprinkles, so that's what most of them have," he said as he scurried to finish frosting the batch on the counter and then apply said sprinkles. She'd said 'lots and lots,' so by the time he was done with this particular batch he'd gone through two jars of sprinkles and you couldn't even see the frosting on three or four of the cupcakes. "Is that up to your standards?"

Troy wandered into the common room, the scent of baking enough to draw him down a couple of floors. "Ooh, cupcakes," he said. "I missed cupcakes." Without even asking, he walked over and grabbed one. "Hey, Anders," he said, just before he stuffed half of it in his mouth.

"We should do that next break," 'she' said, giggling, "because I think the teachers would mutiny if we tried that while classes were in session."

Romeo accepted a white cake with sprinkles, running his thumb around the edge to taste the frosting before he would take a bite. "I don't think I've met you yet," he said, tasting sugar. "I'm Romeo. I was new this semester, though it hardly seems fair to keep calling myself new so late into it."

Especially since, to him, it had been July yesterday.

Well. Did he do well, but that didn't matter as, chewing carefully, Adah held up a finger from the next piece of waiting-to-be-consumed cupcake as if signaling to the chef that she shouldn't speak with her mouth full, as if she expected on speaking at all. Which, of course, she didn't, as was to become evident in the fact that, once she did swallow, with purpose and intent, and after she waited as if letting it settle, she answered his question not with words, but through her expression, wrinkling her nose and curling her lip, a small bit of tongue sliding out from underneath the upper row of her teeth, eyes slightly squinted under lightly furrowed brows. A small shake of her head. No. Terrible. Awful. Disgusting. Blech.

Clearly, as she put the next bit into her mouth, letting her hand linger there to help hide the subsequent, following smirk.

"You say you missed cupcakes like it's been forever," Anders noted, snickering at him. "Which is sorta backed up by the way you're inhaling that one. Oh, hell, were you stuck in Egypt too?"

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Second Floor Common Room, Monday Evening

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