"Sure," he nodded at Alex's offer of water, pouring the cake batter into the pan. Was he supposed to grease this or something? Oops again. Hopefully he wouldn't end up having to scrape the finished product out with a hammer and chisel. "Well, we'll see, right? I've never really attempted baking before." He tossed her a crooked, infectious grin. "Never really had the need to before. Life as a dirty criminal wasn't equipped for that sort of thing."
Right, because being a wanted criminal - face plastered on wanted posters in mail rooms and the like - didn't exactly mean that he was stopping to whip up a batch of cookies for his neighbors. He had traveled a lot, obviously. By himself at first, then with Emma. "Now that I've shared depressing tidbits of my childhood..." he continued, not wanting to turn this into a therapy sessions, per se. "I won't keep bringing the mood down."