Emily Sears (leftthemisery) wrote in playinghouse, @ 2012-05-31 13:04:00 |
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Current mood: | bouncy |
It's a low-key, easy kind of night
Who: Emily and Open to All
Where: the kitchen
When: early evening, around 5pm
For Emily, the evening and dinnertime just couldn't come fast enough. All the talk about who would be willing to come down and help make dinner had made her very, very excited. There were still so many people to meet! That, and she was sure that it would just be nice to get the chance to do something fun with everyone involved. Emily was very genuine in her excitement -- a fact that should have been evident in the way she nearly skipped down the stairs from her room, her boots from earlier echoing once she hit the foyer. Skipping into the kitchen, Emily began opening cupboards and cabinets, looking for everything it was that they would need. She found measuring cups, a rolling pin, and several different mixing bowls to put the dough and ingredients in. There was plenty of fresh produce in the kitchen -- how on earth did the scientists manage that? -- that would need to be cut up for toppings. Really, the last time Emily had made pizza it had turned out horribly, doubtless because she'd used a pre-made wheat pizza crust, and it had tasted a little like flavored cardboard. Hopefully, with Mick's help, the pizza would taste much better than her previous endeavor.
Drumming her fingertips on the counter, Emily looked around to see if there might be a place where an apron might've been secreted away. Coming around to the little closet in the side of the room, she found a few and hastily put one on. She laid a few more out in case anyone wanted one. While she waited, she opened the refrigerator to see if all the right cheeses were available -- they could even do a multi-cheese pizza for those who didn't want meat on their pizza! Which, was a crime in Emily's book. Everything seemed as though it was stocked, which made waiting for everyone else to show up all the more boring. Without meaning to, a little snippit of a song came to her lips and she moved about the kitchen singing. Really, it was the sort of thing she did when she was waiting, and she was sure that most people would not mind. If they did, she could smack them with the rolling pin.