Graham looked down at the mixture in the bowl, his nose twitching. Carefully he raised up his spoon, chocolate goop slowly dripping back down into the plastic bowl. The air was pungent with cocoa. Graham turned to cast Marcus a somewhat nervous glance.
“Uh... was it supposed to be this thick?” he asked, giving his friend a sheepish grin.
The cooking table was littered with ingredients and resembled a warzone of spilled flour and used ladles. A printed out recipe for chocolate cake, (2 teaspoons baking soda, 2 cups of white sugar, 2 eggs, a cup of buttermilk, some salt and vanilla extract...) was already stained with flour beside the pot. Graham gave it a quick look and turned back to the chocolate sauce he'd been mixing.
“I dunno, I'm not usually a chocolate guy,” he continued, looking over at his friend. It was a rare opportunity that they got to cook together, and to be honest, Graham was eager to impress. His last effort he'd shared with Marcus, some quiche he'd prepared for the school bake-sale, had fallen short of both their expectations, despite the assuring praise of the mom's in attendance. The idea of making a chocolate cake had sounded like a great way to bounce back from that disappointment.
“Should I like, test it? Take a spoonful?” Graham grabbed for two nearby spoons, holding one out to his friend. They weren't alone in the school cooking room, but for all intents and purposes Graham's world held nothing but Marcus and the damned chocolate sauce.
Yes, he would get this right, somehow. Even if he had to start from scratch.
Although, come on, I really hope I don't have to do that, jees...
Ultimate Chef: Whittree Edition
Gordon Ramsay jokes are 110% okay, and actually mandatory
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Little Boy*
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Ultimate Chef: Whittree Edition
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SansaSaver
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((Marcus Redder continued from Tolstoy and Salad))
Marcus squinted his eyes in frustration, tugging at the corner of his sweater and dabbing at the soft fabric with a cloth in an attempt to remove the stain. He'd been meticulously sieving flour when it’d happened, but hadn’t noticed the streak until it’d well and truly settled into the wool. It was a new sweater too; his mother had just spent the better part of a month knitting it, and he didn’t want to make her upset.
But chocolate cake was her favourite, so hopefully a good slice of this would be reparation enough.
As his friend spoke, Marcus returned the cloth to the countertop and straightened his sweater, tugging on the collar of the t-shirt beneath it. The double layers he’d worn today had been perfect for the cooler weather outside, and while the heat of the kitchen hadn’t quite gotten to him yet, he still felt a tiny bit sluggish. But there were things to do, and he couldn’t afford to be slack - something made concrete by the spoon Graham was holding out to him.
“I’m sure it’ll be great!” Marcus grinned, taking the spoon from his friend. Graham had always been a swell cooking partner, and he was sure that their efforts today would pay dividends. Sure the last effort Graham had shared with him had been... interesting, but that didn’t mean that this one would turn out the same. Plus, chocolate was delicious in any form, so even if it wasn’t impressive in appearance it would no doubt be tasty as heck.
Having scrapped a few droplets of mixture from the spoon, Marcus delicately rolled his tongue over his finger, savouring the taste for a few seconds before making his judgement.
“It’s delicious, really, Graham. Super rad!” Marcus bunched his fists together and beamed, swaying slightly on the spot. He would’ve hugged Graham then, if not for the fact that it probably would’ve been a bit difficult in the compact corner they were working in, and that constant hugging wasn’t too appealing to most people. But this was a special occasion for Marcus; it’d been all too long since he’d made a cake, and the taste of mixture - good mixture at that - was almost gone from his memory. But this... Marcus wouldn’t complain if this was all they were left with.
Then again, Marcus didn’t much like to complain.
Marcus squinted his eyes in frustration, tugging at the corner of his sweater and dabbing at the soft fabric with a cloth in an attempt to remove the stain. He'd been meticulously sieving flour when it’d happened, but hadn’t noticed the streak until it’d well and truly settled into the wool. It was a new sweater too; his mother had just spent the better part of a month knitting it, and he didn’t want to make her upset.
But chocolate cake was her favourite, so hopefully a good slice of this would be reparation enough.
As his friend spoke, Marcus returned the cloth to the countertop and straightened his sweater, tugging on the collar of the t-shirt beneath it. The double layers he’d worn today had been perfect for the cooler weather outside, and while the heat of the kitchen hadn’t quite gotten to him yet, he still felt a tiny bit sluggish. But there were things to do, and he couldn’t afford to be slack - something made concrete by the spoon Graham was holding out to him.
“I’m sure it’ll be great!” Marcus grinned, taking the spoon from his friend. Graham had always been a swell cooking partner, and he was sure that their efforts today would pay dividends. Sure the last effort Graham had shared with him had been... interesting, but that didn’t mean that this one would turn out the same. Plus, chocolate was delicious in any form, so even if it wasn’t impressive in appearance it would no doubt be tasty as heck.
Having scrapped a few droplets of mixture from the spoon, Marcus delicately rolled his tongue over his finger, savouring the taste for a few seconds before making his judgement.
“It’s delicious, really, Graham. Super rad!” Marcus bunched his fists together and beamed, swaying slightly on the spot. He would’ve hugged Graham then, if not for the fact that it probably would’ve been a bit difficult in the compact corner they were working in, and that constant hugging wasn’t too appealing to most people. But this was a special occasion for Marcus; it’d been all too long since he’d made a cake, and the taste of mixture - good mixture at that - was almost gone from his memory. But this... Marcus wouldn’t complain if this was all they were left with.
Then again, Marcus didn’t much like to complain.
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Little Boy*
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Graham bobbed his head up and down in acknowledgement, reminding himself of a stork to his intense displeasure.
I really need to stop doing that...
“Super rad, eh?” Graham muttered half to himself as he turned back toward the table of ingredients. Graham couldn't yet agree wholeheartedly with Marcus' chipper attitude, but it was a better start than he'd imagined. As with anything made completely from scratch, there was always room for error, so it paid to be extra careful. But as Graham had found, there was generally a rule with this sort of thing- if the mixture was good, s'all... good. If the mixture was crap, you're a cooking hack.
That doesn't rhyme very well. Graham pursed his lips in thought. If the mixture is good... all is understood? Good, what rhymes with good, should, could, wood? If the mixture is good, you're not a plank of wood, if the mixture is crap, you're a cooking hack?
He would have to come up with something later, but Graham reasoned that he could trust Marcus' sense of taste. The kid was a great chef, there was no denying it. While Graham didn't like to toot his own horn, he'd often placed himself on the pedestal of 'Best Chef at Whittree Secondary', if only by default. The only one who he'd considered a potential rival to his imagined throne was Marcus, with his messy hair and wool sweaters.
Where did he even get those sweaters from anyway? Were they homemade? They certainly looked homemade. Graham was under no illusion that Marcus' sweaters were in any way cool, but dangit, for some reason he thought they looked pretty cool. Did that mean he was some sorta tall-ass dork? Did that mean they were a pair of dorks with a fondness for wool?
Maybe. But he could think on all that later, along with a better, more rhyme-friendly cooking rule. Now was the time for cooking, and like any great art, rest could not be tolerated in its presence.
I hope that makes sense at least...
“Uh, okay, can you grab some pans? I think we're just about ready to put it in the oven,” Graham said. “Oh, and uh, what do you want to frost it with? And how do you wanna frost it?”
Graham put his hand to his neck, nearly scratching at his stubble. He'd forgotten to shave again, and he'd been scratching at his stubble and hiding his face with his hands all day. But for once he resisted the nervous tic- sanitation was paramount in the kitchen. He brought his hand back down to drum on the tabletop, burying the urge.
Instead he began to scan the room, looking for icing tubes on any of the tables. They were supposed to bring their own ingredients, true... but any disapproving stares from their cooking teacher were usually bought off with a slice of their most recent innovation.
I really need to stop doing that...
“Super rad, eh?” Graham muttered half to himself as he turned back toward the table of ingredients. Graham couldn't yet agree wholeheartedly with Marcus' chipper attitude, but it was a better start than he'd imagined. As with anything made completely from scratch, there was always room for error, so it paid to be extra careful. But as Graham had found, there was generally a rule with this sort of thing- if the mixture was good, s'all... good. If the mixture was crap, you're a cooking hack.
That doesn't rhyme very well. Graham pursed his lips in thought. If the mixture is good... all is understood? Good, what rhymes with good, should, could, wood? If the mixture is good, you're not a plank of wood, if the mixture is crap, you're a cooking hack?
He would have to come up with something later, but Graham reasoned that he could trust Marcus' sense of taste. The kid was a great chef, there was no denying it. While Graham didn't like to toot his own horn, he'd often placed himself on the pedestal of 'Best Chef at Whittree Secondary', if only by default. The only one who he'd considered a potential rival to his imagined throne was Marcus, with his messy hair and wool sweaters.
Where did he even get those sweaters from anyway? Were they homemade? They certainly looked homemade. Graham was under no illusion that Marcus' sweaters were in any way cool, but dangit, for some reason he thought they looked pretty cool. Did that mean he was some sorta tall-ass dork? Did that mean they were a pair of dorks with a fondness for wool?
Maybe. But he could think on all that later, along with a better, more rhyme-friendly cooking rule. Now was the time for cooking, and like any great art, rest could not be tolerated in its presence.
I hope that makes sense at least...
“Uh, okay, can you grab some pans? I think we're just about ready to put it in the oven,” Graham said. “Oh, and uh, what do you want to frost it with? And how do you wanna frost it?”
Graham put his hand to his neck, nearly scratching at his stubble. He'd forgotten to shave again, and he'd been scratching at his stubble and hiding his face with his hands all day. But for once he resisted the nervous tic- sanitation was paramount in the kitchen. He brought his hand back down to drum on the tabletop, burying the urge.
Instead he began to scan the room, looking for icing tubes on any of the tables. They were supposed to bring their own ingredients, true... but any disapproving stares from their cooking teacher were usually bought off with a slice of their most recent innovation.
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SansaSaver
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“Yeah, ‘super rad’ is where it’s at! I was talking with Bunny the other day, and she said it for... something, I can’t remember what. I guess it’s just slipped into my vocabulary since then. That tends to happen a lot, really. Uh... yeah. Pans!”
Marcus grinned and moved towards the sink, glancing back at his cooking partner before spraying his hands with liquid sanitiser. He was glad he’d managed to avoid a tangent just then, as ineloquent as it’d been. At least he was able to avoid them whilst writing essays - he could only fear what damage that would do to his GPA. And to Marcus, that would be the most awful thing in the world. Save for something bad happening to his family, or to his friends.
“As for icing... I don’t know, really! I guess an icing tube would do the trick, and I’m not too fussed on icing designs,” Marcus beamed, as he bent down to search for a suitable baking pan. “But if you’ve got any ideas, of course, I’m not likely to object!” He hurriedly added, before returning to his perusal of the stacks of cookware within the kitchen cupboards.
Graham was a good friend of his, one of his closest by far - not that he had that many, a firm study regiment having eaten away most chances for socialising in recent years - and if it weren’t for cooking classes, Marcus doubted that they would’ve really crossed paths. He was glad that they had, though. Graham was a bit dorky as well, and a nice guy. Despite all of that, Marcus couldn’t honestly say that he knew the taller boy too well. It made sense to offer him even the slightest amount of creative control with everything, just in case. Growing up with four siblings had led to him sharing most of his life, and he couldn’t help but install this mindset in school as well.
After a moment of sifting his freshly-sanitised hands through the bakeware, Marcus hefted a baking pan from the cupboard, the metal rim biting into his fingers as he awkwardly brought it onto the bench. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the right size or not, so he was lucky to have such an experienced chef as Graham by his side to add his judgement to the table.
Marcus returned to stand beside his friend and looked over their mixture again. It looked just as yum as it had a minute ago. Good. Marcus pointed gently towards the baking pan, still trying to measure up whether it was suitable or not.
“What d’you think? This one, maybe? Or is it a little bit too big?”
Marcus grinned and moved towards the sink, glancing back at his cooking partner before spraying his hands with liquid sanitiser. He was glad he’d managed to avoid a tangent just then, as ineloquent as it’d been. At least he was able to avoid them whilst writing essays - he could only fear what damage that would do to his GPA. And to Marcus, that would be the most awful thing in the world. Save for something bad happening to his family, or to his friends.
“As for icing... I don’t know, really! I guess an icing tube would do the trick, and I’m not too fussed on icing designs,” Marcus beamed, as he bent down to search for a suitable baking pan. “But if you’ve got any ideas, of course, I’m not likely to object!” He hurriedly added, before returning to his perusal of the stacks of cookware within the kitchen cupboards.
Graham was a good friend of his, one of his closest by far - not that he had that many, a firm study regiment having eaten away most chances for socialising in recent years - and if it weren’t for cooking classes, Marcus doubted that they would’ve really crossed paths. He was glad that they had, though. Graham was a bit dorky as well, and a nice guy. Despite all of that, Marcus couldn’t honestly say that he knew the taller boy too well. It made sense to offer him even the slightest amount of creative control with everything, just in case. Growing up with four siblings had led to him sharing most of his life, and he couldn’t help but install this mindset in school as well.
After a moment of sifting his freshly-sanitised hands through the bakeware, Marcus hefted a baking pan from the cupboard, the metal rim biting into his fingers as he awkwardly brought it onto the bench. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the right size or not, so he was lucky to have such an experienced chef as Graham by his side to add his judgement to the table.
Marcus returned to stand beside his friend and looked over their mixture again. It looked just as yum as it had a minute ago. Good. Marcus pointed gently towards the baking pan, still trying to measure up whether it was suitable or not.
“What d’you think? This one, maybe? Or is it a little bit too big?”
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Little Boy*
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Graham shook his head, “No, that should do just fine.” He cleared away some of the flour coating the table with his forearm before turning and easing up against the side of the desk, stretching his back. He was filled with a sudden spurt of nervous excitement- the job was done, but how had they fared? They'd have to wait to find out, and even though waiting was usually a piss off he was satisfied with his work. A solid bit of work, as he'd learned from his father, was something to be proud of.
A thought occurred to Graham and he furrowed his brow, looking down at his feet. “Hey, Marcus, uhh... you know those girls, Sarah and Val?”
Oh boy, bring on the red face and the stutter.
Graham cast an anxious look around the room, as if by the mere mention of their names the rest of the class would drop what they were doing, directing all their attention toward him. It was ridiculous, and he knew it. But, like always, he'd already buried one foot in the shit. Might as well make a pair.
“I was at the diner the other day and, I dunno if you know this, but they're in this band apparently?A-anyway, I think they invited me to their show. All casual-like, you know how girls are.”
Well, “think” wasn't exactly the right word. They'd point-blank asked him to come to the show, but Graham was trying to take as objective of a view as he could, until he could weasel some advice out of his friend.
“I was wondering if like... on a scale, one to ten, uh... how ya' think...” Graham trailed off, shrugging his shoulders and trying his best to appear uncommitted to the idea. All the same, his face was burning red.
“Well, you know. They're kinda' hot, right?”
A thought occurred to Graham and he furrowed his brow, looking down at his feet. “Hey, Marcus, uhh... you know those girls, Sarah and Val?”
Oh boy, bring on the red face and the stutter.
Graham cast an anxious look around the room, as if by the mere mention of their names the rest of the class would drop what they were doing, directing all their attention toward him. It was ridiculous, and he knew it. But, like always, he'd already buried one foot in the shit. Might as well make a pair.
“I was at the diner the other day and, I dunno if you know this, but they're in this band apparently?A-anyway, I think they invited me to their show. All casual-like, you know how girls are.”
Well, “think” wasn't exactly the right word. They'd point-blank asked him to come to the show, but Graham was trying to take as objective of a view as he could, until he could weasel some advice out of his friend.
“I was wondering if like... on a scale, one to ten, uh... how ya' think...” Graham trailed off, shrugging his shoulders and trying his best to appear uncommitted to the idea. All the same, his face was burning red.
“Well, you know. They're kinda' hot, right?”
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SansaSaver
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After Graham confirmed that the dish was suitable, Marcus inwardly sighed in relief. The hard part was done, and now it was just a waiting game. At home, Marcus usually spent the baking or cooking time to do a quick bit of revision, or check on his siblings. But at school he’d been afforded neither of those things; so it was just chatting with Graham until the cake was done. Not that he’d ever complain about something like that, of course. Graham was excellent company.
Marcus idly waved away a loose lock of hair as he moved to join his friend by the bench. It was always getting in his way, and although Marcus’d had it cut shorter for awhile when he was younger, he always found himself going back to this mop of curls. Nobody had openly criticised his chaotic hairstyle, though, so it couldn’t have been all that bad.
He leaned back against the bench and stretched his shoulders, dissipating the cramp that was steadily building there, as Graham spoke about Valerie and Sarah - two classmates of theirs that Marcus couldn’t say he was too well acquainted with. He didn’t know all too much about the duo, but they seemed nice enough. Graham confided that he thought them “kinda hot”, and Marcus felt inclined to agree. Whilst he himself didn’t crush on girls often - he had to put that sorta stuff out of his mind when he had things like studying to focus on - he couldn’t help but notice the fact that a fair amount of his classmates were... attractive, with Valerie and Sarah definitely in the equation.
“Sarah plays baseball, right?” He chirped, relaxing his shoulders as he looked over at his friend. “I mean, I don’t know too much about them, but... yeah, they are kinda hot! Uhm...”
He trailed off and scratched at the back of his neck, offering a sheepish grin; vaguely aware of the faint flush that passed over his features. He might’ve spoken a little too loudly just then, as evidenced by a few cursory glances his way. Hopefully they hadn’t caught too much of what he’d said - although it didn’t matter much if they had; it wasn’t as if they were about to start teasing him or something, right?
He leant over towards Graham and spoke once more, his voice having dropped down to a cautious whisper.
“They are pretty cute, I have to say. And they invited you to a show? That’s pretty awesome! Are you thinking of asking one of them out? ‘Cause if you are, you totally should! It’d be so cool!”
Marcus idly waved away a loose lock of hair as he moved to join his friend by the bench. It was always getting in his way, and although Marcus’d had it cut shorter for awhile when he was younger, he always found himself going back to this mop of curls. Nobody had openly criticised his chaotic hairstyle, though, so it couldn’t have been all that bad.
He leaned back against the bench and stretched his shoulders, dissipating the cramp that was steadily building there, as Graham spoke about Valerie and Sarah - two classmates of theirs that Marcus couldn’t say he was too well acquainted with. He didn’t know all too much about the duo, but they seemed nice enough. Graham confided that he thought them “kinda hot”, and Marcus felt inclined to agree. Whilst he himself didn’t crush on girls often - he had to put that sorta stuff out of his mind when he had things like studying to focus on - he couldn’t help but notice the fact that a fair amount of his classmates were... attractive, with Valerie and Sarah definitely in the equation.
“Sarah plays baseball, right?” He chirped, relaxing his shoulders as he looked over at his friend. “I mean, I don’t know too much about them, but... yeah, they are kinda hot! Uhm...”
He trailed off and scratched at the back of his neck, offering a sheepish grin; vaguely aware of the faint flush that passed over his features. He might’ve spoken a little too loudly just then, as evidenced by a few cursory glances his way. Hopefully they hadn’t caught too much of what he’d said - although it didn’t matter much if they had; it wasn’t as if they were about to start teasing him or something, right?
He leant over towards Graham and spoke once more, his voice having dropped down to a cautious whisper.
“They are pretty cute, I have to say. And they invited you to a show? That’s pretty awesome! Are you thinking of asking one of them out? ‘Cause if you are, you totally should! It’d be so cool!”
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Little Boy*
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Graham felt his eyes bulge at Marcus' words. He stuttered, mouth and brain out of sync for a moment, before he regained his ability to speak.
“Ask- ask them- no, I mean- shit!” Graham breathed. He brought both of his hands up, clamping them on the back of his neck. “I couldn't ask one out, oh no. No way in Hades or Hell is that happenin'. But I mean- if we're thinkin' hypothetically here, I don't even know which one I mean...”
Graham paused. His thought process was so utterly whipped it was almost laughable. No, he wasn't debating who to ask out. He was debating who to have an unrequited crush on. Something inside him sunk down, very low, and didn't come up for air.
Shit. Well, what can I do about that?
Graham turned his eyes skyward, mulling it over. “Okay, so it's like this. Sarah, she's pretty hot, right? But so is Val. I don't wanna end up uh... crushing on one, and then end up liking the other more, that make sense?”
He turned toward his friend, smiling sheepishly. “So like, I know it'd be cool... But uh, I dunno. I wanted to go to the show, but I don't know who I should be uh, looking at?”
That's pretty creepy, friend.
“Not- not like the whole show, I mean,” Graham quickly said. “Like, if there's a moment where both of them look really pretty, which one should I look at? I don't wanna waste the moment, so I need to think carefully on which one is hotter, y'know?”
“Ask- ask them- no, I mean- shit!” Graham breathed. He brought both of his hands up, clamping them on the back of his neck. “I couldn't ask one out, oh no. No way in Hades or Hell is that happenin'. But I mean- if we're thinkin' hypothetically here, I don't even know which one I mean...”
Graham paused. His thought process was so utterly whipped it was almost laughable. No, he wasn't debating who to ask out. He was debating who to have an unrequited crush on. Something inside him sunk down, very low, and didn't come up for air.
Shit. Well, what can I do about that?
Graham turned his eyes skyward, mulling it over. “Okay, so it's like this. Sarah, she's pretty hot, right? But so is Val. I don't wanna end up uh... crushing on one, and then end up liking the other more, that make sense?”
He turned toward his friend, smiling sheepishly. “So like, I know it'd be cool... But uh, I dunno. I wanted to go to the show, but I don't know who I should be uh, looking at?”
That's pretty creepy, friend.
“Not- not like the whole show, I mean,” Graham quickly said. “Like, if there's a moment where both of them look really pretty, which one should I look at? I don't wanna waste the moment, so I need to think carefully on which one is hotter, y'know?”
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Carrion Queen
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Norma-Jean pulled her warm cake layers out of the oven with a pair of purple oven mitts. She removed the mitts, and turned to her the icing she'd made and frosted one layer, then stuck the second layer on top and frosted over that as well. Faintly, she was aware of two boys talking in her vicinity. She scootched her things over a little and shoved the tins formerly holding the layers into the sink carelessly.
It seemed one was making a cake for someone else with assistance from Marcus. She whistled and smoothed over the icing until it was perfectly level. Norma-Jean didn't like to cook, but she liked to bake. Baking was alright because she made pretty, sugary things. Also there was the appeal of throwing something in the oven and not having to deal with it for an hour.
She took up a pink and a green tube of decorating icing and placed her things near the chatters to eavesdrop. Norma squirted out a big heart onto her cake and added a little arrow going through the center.
She heard the name Sarah. Well, Graham was on the baseball team and Sarah was on the baseball team or something so the symmetry made complete sense in a way that really appealed to her. How romantic, she thought as she made flowers on her cake.
It seemed one was making a cake for someone else with assistance from Marcus. She whistled and smoothed over the icing until it was perfectly level. Norma-Jean didn't like to cook, but she liked to bake. Baking was alright because she made pretty, sugary things. Also there was the appeal of throwing something in the oven and not having to deal with it for an hour.
She took up a pink and a green tube of decorating icing and placed her things near the chatters to eavesdrop. Norma squirted out a big heart onto her cake and added a little arrow going through the center.
She heard the name Sarah. Well, Graham was on the baseball team and Sarah was on the baseball team or something so the symmetry made complete sense in a way that really appealed to her. How romantic, she thought as she made flowers on her cake.
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SansaSaver
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Marcus furrowed his brow and steepled his fingers under his chin as he pondered Graham’s circumstances. He’d never been in an even remotely similar situation, with most of his ‘dates’ - if you could indeed even call them that; it was mostly just a meeting of friends - consisting of an ice-cream and a walk in the park. What to do...
“Hmm... If you like them both equally I guess the best thing to do would be to...” - he drew out the “to” for a few seconds as he stalled for thinking time - “...go with whichever one you could see working out! Like, Sarah’s a baseballer, so you’ve already got something in common there, but... I think Valerie might like gardening. She could grow the food, and then you could cook it or something. Hmm...”
He pried himself off the side of the bench and stretched again, rolling his palm over the nape of his neck. This really was quite a pickle Graham was in, wasn’t it? If he’d asked about statistics or history, then Marcus might’ve been able to help, but relationship advice? He was about as useful as a chocolate teapot where romance was concerned. But Graham had asked his advice, and it was his job as Graham’s friend to aid him in whatever way he could.
“They both sound like pretty equal options! I guess you should just wait until the night itself, and see what happens? ‘Que sera sera’ or something? Ooh, maybe one of them’ll entrance you for the whole night, and everything’ll work out!” He bunched his fists together and beamed, but his smiled drooped when he saw Graham's reaction. “Although I guess it’d be good to prepare for both possibilities. If... If I had any ounce of experience, I’d probably be able to help a lil’ bit more, y’know?”
He heard Norma-Jean begin to whistle nearby as she prepared her own cake, and hummed along in unison. He’d never been able to whistle properly, any past attempts having been met with a flushed face and a sore jaw. Marcus suspected that she mightn’t want to be interrupted whilst icing her cake - he certainly didn’t; he got into this ‘zone’ of sorts whilst cooking, and was reluctant to come out of it - but he couldn’t resist sneaking a look at what she’d prepared so far. It certainly looked really pretty, if not a bit too colourful for Marcus’s taste. Still, even though presentation went a long way, it was always the taste that really counted, didn’t it? And he was sure Norma-Jean was a great cook.
“Hmm... If you like them both equally I guess the best thing to do would be to...” - he drew out the “to” for a few seconds as he stalled for thinking time - “...go with whichever one you could see working out! Like, Sarah’s a baseballer, so you’ve already got something in common there, but... I think Valerie might like gardening. She could grow the food, and then you could cook it or something. Hmm...”
He pried himself off the side of the bench and stretched again, rolling his palm over the nape of his neck. This really was quite a pickle Graham was in, wasn’t it? If he’d asked about statistics or history, then Marcus might’ve been able to help, but relationship advice? He was about as useful as a chocolate teapot where romance was concerned. But Graham had asked his advice, and it was his job as Graham’s friend to aid him in whatever way he could.
“They both sound like pretty equal options! I guess you should just wait until the night itself, and see what happens? ‘Que sera sera’ or something? Ooh, maybe one of them’ll entrance you for the whole night, and everything’ll work out!” He bunched his fists together and beamed, but his smiled drooped when he saw Graham's reaction. “Although I guess it’d be good to prepare for both possibilities. If... If I had any ounce of experience, I’d probably be able to help a lil’ bit more, y’know?”
He heard Norma-Jean begin to whistle nearby as she prepared her own cake, and hummed along in unison. He’d never been able to whistle properly, any past attempts having been met with a flushed face and a sore jaw. Marcus suspected that she mightn’t want to be interrupted whilst icing her cake - he certainly didn’t; he got into this ‘zone’ of sorts whilst cooking, and was reluctant to come out of it - but he couldn’t resist sneaking a look at what she’d prepared so far. It certainly looked really pretty, if not a bit too colourful for Marcus’s taste. Still, even though presentation went a long way, it was always the taste that really counted, didn’t it? And he was sure Norma-Jean was a great cook.
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
It was no secret that Graham was shit at making important decisions. What side of the toast to butter, what kind of shirt to wear for picture day, what he should say to the ticket guy after the “enjoy the show” bit they always said. Marcus' answer was certainly platonic and well-informed, but Graham couldn't help but feel as directionless as he had before. Half of him had really hoped that Marcus would've flat out said which girl was hotter and saved Graham the task of debating.
Just see what happens? Do people even do that in real life? People always think on their feet during movies, but that's definitely harder in real life, much harder...
Graham scratched at his nose and sighed, casting a glance down at his flour-stained feet. “If only” seemed to be the thought of the day, now that all the excitement of cooking was ebbing away. If only he could figure out which one he liked, if only he actually stood a chance at talking to them. If he kept thinking this way there'd be no stopping it; he had to find a positive side, even just a a slim chance at one.
“Yeah, maybe one of 'em will entrance me,” Graham said with a shrug. “I can stay hopeful. Heh, maybe they invited me because of them had a crush on me?”
He entertained the thought for a minute, grinning. “Hah, if we're thinkin' all fanciful, maybe Sarah just wanted a chance to get me alone. Wouldn't that be great? Man, she really ispretty hot. I'd love to see her in the-”
Graham looked up and saw Norma-Jean at a nearby cooking station, and became acutely aware of how loud he'd been talking.
Oh, fuck.
“thaaaaaaa- hahahah-,” Graham sputtered to a stop, his eyes going wide, his face going red. He spun back around, hanging his head low and busying himself, moving around the bowl and sweeping excess flour off to the floor.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit
Graham cleared his throat and looked over at his friend. “Uh, anyway, Marcus uh- uh-”
New topic, new topic-
“How is your... math?”
Just see what happens? Do people even do that in real life? People always think on their feet during movies, but that's definitely harder in real life, much harder...
Graham scratched at his nose and sighed, casting a glance down at his flour-stained feet. “If only” seemed to be the thought of the day, now that all the excitement of cooking was ebbing away. If only he could figure out which one he liked, if only he actually stood a chance at talking to them. If he kept thinking this way there'd be no stopping it; he had to find a positive side, even just a a slim chance at one.
“Yeah, maybe one of 'em will entrance me,” Graham said with a shrug. “I can stay hopeful. Heh, maybe they invited me because of them had a crush on me?”
He entertained the thought for a minute, grinning. “Hah, if we're thinkin' all fanciful, maybe Sarah just wanted a chance to get me alone. Wouldn't that be great? Man, she really ispretty hot. I'd love to see her in the-”
Graham looked up and saw Norma-Jean at a nearby cooking station, and became acutely aware of how loud he'd been talking.
Oh, fuck.
“thaaaaaaa- hahahah-,” Graham sputtered to a stop, his eyes going wide, his face going red. He spun back around, hanging his head low and busying himself, moving around the bowl and sweeping excess flour off to the floor.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit
Graham cleared his throat and looked over at his friend. “Uh, anyway, Marcus uh- uh-”
New topic, new topic-
“How is your... math?”
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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SansaSaver
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:15 pm
((Skipping with Rugga’s permission))
“My math?” Marcus’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as Graham spoke, dovetailing from Sarah and Valerie into his favourite subject - outside of cooking, of course. Marcus really did enjoy Math - though he suspected part of that was due to how easily the concepts came to him. Whenever he found something in Math that he didn’t quite understand, his love of the subject tended to drop rather dramatically. But at the end of the day, everything worked out. It always did, after all.
“It’s going really great! Nothing too exciting, really. I was thinking of maybe joining the Mathletes, but I don’t know how much it’d strain my study time, y’know?” He paused for a second, wracking his brain for anything else Math-related that Graham might find potentially interesting. He came up blank pretty quickly. “Other than that... nothing else to report!”
He smiled and his eyes darted towards the oven, checking on the state of their cake. Marcus closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, letting the sweet smell of baking leeching from the oven waft into his nostrils. There was really nothing better than the scent of a freshly baked meal, especially one that you’d had a hand in preparing yourself.
Graham seemed to suddenly become embarrassed with the whole Sarah-Valerie talk they’d been having - possibly due to realising how many other people were around. He didn’t want to step on toes by bringing it up again, though he did hope they could talk about it again though, albeit in slightly lower voices than before. Marcus’d been enjoying trying to help his friend.
“What about you? Anything interesting going on with baseball?”
“My math?” Marcus’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as Graham spoke, dovetailing from Sarah and Valerie into his favourite subject - outside of cooking, of course. Marcus really did enjoy Math - though he suspected part of that was due to how easily the concepts came to him. Whenever he found something in Math that he didn’t quite understand, his love of the subject tended to drop rather dramatically. But at the end of the day, everything worked out. It always did, after all.
“It’s going really great! Nothing too exciting, really. I was thinking of maybe joining the Mathletes, but I don’t know how much it’d strain my study time, y’know?” He paused for a second, wracking his brain for anything else Math-related that Graham might find potentially interesting. He came up blank pretty quickly. “Other than that... nothing else to report!”
He smiled and his eyes darted towards the oven, checking on the state of their cake. Marcus closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, letting the sweet smell of baking leeching from the oven waft into his nostrils. There was really nothing better than the scent of a freshly baked meal, especially one that you’d had a hand in preparing yourself.
Graham seemed to suddenly become embarrassed with the whole Sarah-Valerie talk they’d been having - possibly due to realising how many other people were around. He didn’t want to step on toes by bringing it up again, though he did hope they could talk about it again though, albeit in slightly lower voices than before. Marcus’d been enjoying trying to help his friend.
“What about you? Anything interesting going on with baseball?”
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Carrion Queen
- Posts: 427
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 6:35 am
Norma had been day dreaming for too long. She looked at the clock and snapped out of her haze. Quickly she picked up her cake and hurried out, almost forgetting her purple mitts.
She ran back, grabbed them and nodded at the foods teacher before scurrying off on her way.
((Norma Jean continued in Party at my Place))
She ran back, grabbed them and nodded at the foods teacher before scurrying off on her way.
((Norma Jean continued in Party at my Place))
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SansaSaver
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:15 pm
After awhile, Graham and Marcus’s cake finished baking, the heavenly aroma of their baking enveloping the area as they removed it from the oven. He and Graham split it evenly - save for an extra piece to give to their cooking instructor. The pair of them ate one slice each there and then, whilst Marcus concealed his remaining portions within a baking tin he’d borrowed from class. The cake was delicious; just the right mixture of sweet and bitter and a perfect amount of chocolate. Marcus had no idea how he managed to eat anything else afterwards, being almost too full to even attempt lunch.
Marcus and Graham’s conversation continued in earnest; the two of them briefly returning to the subject of Sarah and Valerie, but mostly bouncing around it and discussing their sports and the like. It was times like these that Marcus enjoyed more than anything else, just being with friends and participating in his hobbies. Here, nothing could hurt him, nothing could make him feel scared or nervous or blemish his eternal optimism.
The bell’s shrill call rang throughout the cooking room, signalling the end of the lesson - much too soon for Marcus’s taste. He bade farewell to Graham, giving him a brief one-armed hug before rushing from the class in the swell of other students. He had a few assignments due in a few days, and he couldn’t waste any spare moment.
((Marcus Redder continued in Counting Pennies))
Marcus and Graham’s conversation continued in earnest; the two of them briefly returning to the subject of Sarah and Valerie, but mostly bouncing around it and discussing their sports and the like. It was times like these that Marcus enjoyed more than anything else, just being with friends and participating in his hobbies. Here, nothing could hurt him, nothing could make him feel scared or nervous or blemish his eternal optimism.
The bell’s shrill call rang throughout the cooking room, signalling the end of the lesson - much too soon for Marcus’s taste. He bade farewell to Graham, giving him a brief one-armed hug before rushing from the class in the swell of other students. He had a few assignments due in a few days, and he couldn’t waste any spare moment.
((Marcus Redder continued in Counting Pennies))