fandomhighdorms | Second Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

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Second Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

Karla had missed the newbie picnic, sadly, and so far her only real interaction with anyone new to the island was having one knock her over and then turn into a baby cheetah before she'd even gotten his name.

Or before she'd gotten the lunch he'd offered. Dammit.

But such a shameful state of affairs couldn't stand any longer. Today Karla had decided to get to know people a little better by heading over to the common room and do a bit of baking to celebrate the newbies surviving their first week of Fandom. Yesterday's mention of cupcakes on the radio had her interested in trying her hand at making some of her own; she'd already pretty much perfected cookies, after all.

Maybe she could offer a batch or two to the teachers of the cupcake class!

"You behave," she told the baby cheetah sternly. "You can run around, but be careful. I'm not replacing any of the lamps in this room, too."

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"Or else it's a sort of salt created as a by-product of winemaking," Warren countered, raising an eyebrow.

Wikipedia was ALWAYS RIGHT.

Dammit. It did say that, didn't it?

"There's salt in pickles."

...Keep trying Karla. Keep trying.

"True. There's also pickles in pickles."

Pickles, Karla. Pickles.

"Well, yes. And grapes in winemaking. But no grapes in this cream of yours!" Karla pointed out triumphantly.

"Pickle cupcakes?

See, that didn't sound so good, did it?

"...A favorite of pregnant females everywhere," Karla tried.

"Has there been an outbreak of those in the dorms lately?"

Warren's eyebrows, they were creeping up on his forehead, now.

"I don't know that there hasn't been?"

"Well... I suppose it couldn't hurt to be prepared...?"

For the dozens of pregnant teenagers in the school.

"Would you... uh... like some help making a batch that doesn't have pickles in it?"

"Sure!" Karla said, standing up and shutting the oven door on the last batch anyway. Look, they'd already been made and it wasn't like anyone else would know there were pickles in it!

...Until they bit into one, anyway.

"I think I'm out of everything for the coffee ones, though. And the cloves. We'll probably have to make something else."

Warren did not expressly say 'Thank God,' but he certainly thought it.

"How about banana chocolate chip," he suggested, thinking that those two ingredients were basic enough that maybe Karla wouldn't feel the express need to get too creative. Maybe.

"Ooh, I bet the rest of the Red Hots would be really good in those," Karla said, nodding agreeably.

It had been a good hope, Warren!

"Now where are those bananas..."

Warren sighed and gave his shoulders a shrug.

Okay. He couldn't drop the cupcakes on the floor. But odds were high that he'd be able to drop the Red Hots.

"Try the fridge," he offered, helpfully. And then he realized the error of his ways. "Actually, I'll get them."

If she went in there and spotted a pastrami sandwich or something, they'd be doomed.

"I'll get out more flour," Karla said, turning to rummage in the cabinets instead. Oh! Maybe she'd find something interesting to add to the batter while she was there!

"It's very sweet of you to want to bake with me," she added, a phantom mouth pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I like just doing things together."

You know, with no ulterior motives or anything.

Oh, hey. Phantom kisses for wanting to bake with her. Warren would have felt guilty if it wasn't for the fact that he was saving lives here.

"You know, I don't think we do things together often enough."

Tie yourself to him, Karla. Chain yourself to his ankle, so that he could make certain that disasters like this never happened again.

Karla's baking had never killed anyone!

...Yet.

Still, Warren couldn't have said anything to make Karla happier if he'd tried. She beamed at him, joy warming her down to her toes. "We could start having lunches together more often," she suggested. "And I have a ton of recipes for you to look at."

Cradle, as a suggestion, hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she was nice and bit it back. "And I'm supposed to learn about video games so I stop making Tony cry."

"I can help with that!"

If he got her hooked on gaming, there would be less time to bake!

It was brilliant!

"You play video games?" Karla gave him a slightly surprised look. "I don't think I've ever heard you mention that."

Well, except with Bobby, of course. But then, she knew Bobby played video games.

"Well... Not often. Bobby and I spend time at the arcade sometimes, though. Sometimes I actually manage to win."

There was a pause.

"I played with games more when I was younger. When you never leave the house, it's either that, reading, TV, or studying."

Karla paused her search to give him a sympathetic glance. "You can teach me some," she offered. "I know there's a singing game. And a game with carts that don't look very cart-like. And I think a fighting game, with guns."

Yes, Karla. There were three games in the entire world.

"We can eat cupcakes while we play. Or fabulous lunches if we don't get a chance to play tonight."

FABULOUS LUNCHES. WARREN WAS ALL FOR THE LUNCHES.

"I don't actually have a game system," he said, careful not to say that too quickly. "But I can pick one up maybe tomorrow? What sort of game do you think you'd be more interested in? Something that tells a story? Or one of those shooting ones? Or sports stuff?"

Maybe he'd just get all three of the major systems, to be sure.

Karla wrinkled her nose. "Not sports stuff," she declared. "Unless it's baseball. Or hockey."

Those were okay sports. Not like the game with brooms or football which seemed to be a different game every time she saw it on teevee.

"I like stories? And singing? And shooting was fun when I did it with Triela?"

"Well, there's no shortage of shooting games out there," Warren noted. "I'll go online tonight and see what's good this year. And music games in general are a dime a dozen these days." He pursed his lips, surfacing from the fridge with a few bananas. "We could get Rock Band, and you can laugh at my singing voice."

"I bet your voice is fine," Karla said, washing out the bowls she'd used already. Huh. This one had the weirdest film over the edge. "Is Rock Band like karaoke?"

...Karla had kind of loved the karaoke at Drake's...send-off.

"A bit," Warren agreed, though he wrinkled his nose a little. "I'm pretty sure. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details. But I think there's room for people to sing, play drums, play guitar... That sort of thing."

Warren? Had never done karaoke in his life.

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