"I always intend to make something and then wind up not doing it," Gus said, "I guess it's sort of built up over time. Ah, as for tools, you may have to make due with substandard equipment."
Once upon a time, the house he'd lived in had been armed to the teeth with Kitchenaide's and Vikings, but now it was quite rudimentary.
"And a white cake is fine, I'm not a super fancy guy," he took a pointed swig of his beer (Budweiser, King of Beers), set it aside, and started getting out what tools they might need to get the ingredients appropriately thrown together.
Once they had mostly everything laid out (he had neither powdered sugar or rum), Gus leaned one hand on the counter, beer in the other, and gestured to the impressive display with one hand, "I guess I'm less of a bachelor than I thought - look at this haul," he grinned at Lucy, "I swear I didn't plan this."
Gus tried to remember the last time he had baked anything, with anyone, and honestly couldn't think of a single instance. It was very good to be doing something other than skulking by himself in his home.