Who: Kiley and Lennon When: Afternoon Where: The kitchen
Kiley had no idea what possessed her. She knew she had missed Chase's birthday from the network, and for some stupid reason, she'd decided to try and make him a cake. Which was stupid, because Kiley didn't know the first thing about baking. She could cook all right. Cooking was throwing some of this in with some of that and lots of seasoning. Baking was measurements and room temperature eggs and softened, but not melted butter. Shit like that. Stuff Kiley had very little patience for, but... Chase missed a birthday, and really, she was betting it had been a really long time since he'd had a birthday cake. She had considered finding Jack for help, but when she'd gone searching, she spotted him in the communal bathroom with a couple others, singing Queen. Kiley had left him there to finish off his best naked, Freddie Mercury impression.
It probably didn't help that she was a bit restless, and needed something productive to do. Kiley had a lot of fun the night before at the Halloween party, but sometime after she had fallen asleep, she experienced a strangely vivid dream about being at a bus station. Kiley knew she had been waiting for her uncle Mark to come pick her up and take her home. But the bus station had been completely vacant. No travelers, no employees. No buses. When she had stepped outside, it was night, and there was nothing but a dark field, and a long, empty road ahead of her. Well, it wasn't totally empty. A crow had flown down and landed on the road in front of her, cocking it's head and fluttering it's wings. They had stared at one another for a long time, Kiley feeling unsettled, like it was reading her thoughts. Then it had released a loud, grating caw and Kiley startled awake. That uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach still hadn't dissipated.
So. Cake. Baking. Kiley found the recipe for chocolate cake on a bag of flour in the pantry and had done her best to follow the directions. There were several bowls on the counter now, an abundance of flour covering the surfaces, not to mention her shirt and some of her face and in her hair. Egg shells littered about a half a dozen used paper towels, and really, how many spoons and whisks did one cake really require? She felt, and looked, like the stereotypical chick who couldn't bake and ended up making a mess of everything. The kitchen was a disaster, and the cake that came out of the oven was a hard and crunchy. And kind of heavy.
There was a part of her that wanted to say 'fuck it' and toss it, and everything else, into the garbage. But Kiley was a stubborn individual, and she refused to let a chocolate cake get the best of her. So she dumped the ruined cake into the trash bin and decided to start over.
"Fuck you, cake," Kiley said, tossing the empty egg shells and heading to the fridge to find more. "Fuck you, eggs." She added, pulling the carton from the fridge and setting it on the counter beside the mixer. "Fuck you, butter, and definitely fuck you, vanilla. You taste like shit."