[attr="class","isratalk"]

The woman wonders what they think she does with her time to end up with such tasks placed on her shoulders. Does she seem like the sort that bakes in her free time to these people? Certainly not, no the piano fits better beneath her fingertips than a spoon and pan ever will. The feeling of a brush is natural to her hand and the grip on a wooden spoon awkward.

If she could paint batter with brushstrokes into cupcakes the kitchen would be a home to her, but she cannot.

And that is why she blows up Alexei Ivanov's phone with requests for him to help her bake for whatever this event was- frankly she didn't read the rest of the memo beyond what the date for it was because she didn't really care. There were plenty of others in the building that ought to have been better choices than her. Her only saving grace in this endeavor is the blond in the trees that comes down every once in awhile to save her porcelain hide.

"Thank you again Alexei, I'm really not sure why they asked me to do this again. I keep trying to tell these people I'm not very good in the kitchen and they don't seem to believe me." she states over the island in the middle of her kitchen, were various ingredients and utensils were already scattered around and the remnants of her single attempt on her own to make a batch of cupcakes sat in the corner, shunned for the disaster that they were. As always she had managed to burn them because she got caught up in something she considered much more important than watching the cupcakes bake through the oven window.

The prep work is mindless to her, something she once did as a child and does often for her sole house keep Amelia. The recipe is in her head and on a paper in front of them for Alexei to follow. "I'm not even sure how I messed up the first batch, I even set a timer and still managed to not make it back in time."

affections confections mission
Alexei Ivanov