C1 | Steph + Jason
Since they both seemed to fall into a flurry of awkward no-that-was-me apologies, Stephanie opted to let that topic die when it did, rather than insist on her guilt in the matter. Or press him about the whole 21 Jump Street thing, which was more of an amusing comment than it had any right to be.
“I think as a domestic goddess being worshipped by many, that’s the least I could do. Keep you fed, you know. I don’t want my followers dying of starvation!” She gave him a playful shove. “Oh, fine. I guess you have to know that the religion you’re buy into is the real deal.”
With a hand on her hip she watched as he inspected the toffee as though it somehow wasn’t a magical little droplet of heaven she’d gifted. “That may very well be true,” she agreed, “Or maybe they really are just that good. I guess you won’t know until you try, huh?”
When he did finally taste the toffee and made a very pleased sound, Stephanie smiled proudly—maybe a little smugly—and tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder as a flourish of pride before she reached across the table. “The Cult of Mendoza is looking pretty good right now, huh?”
Straightening back up, she passed him a small little tart on a tiny paper plate with a fork already waiting. “Aside from chocolate chip pancakes and peanut butter cookies? These are my favourite things to make. A little sweet, a little salty. It’ll change your life, I promise.”