"Frosting to?" he let out a low whistle, "That's getting pretty fancy. I'll trust you not to lead me into confection oblivion, though. Just a sec, I'll pop the movie in."
He moved into the lounge area and plucked it off the shelf, looking over his shoulder at her when she asked her question.
"Jam? I know I've got grape jelly in the fridge," Gus's grin turned sheepish, "It's in a squeezy bottle."
All right, his bachelorhood had been reasserted. And he most definitely did not have an electric beater. Arm comparison might suggest that Gus be in charge of that particular task - his upper body strength was rather obvious.
"Okay, Die Hard is go," he said, returning the counter, "Let's get our cake on."