trans_9 | Home is where the tart is [Open]

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Home is where the tart is [Open]

Despite not requiring much in the way of food, Zouichi did know how to cook. But with friends and acquaintances from wildly different backgrounds, he figured he could stand to expand his repertoire. So today he was trying out desserts. The inside of one of the Sensoriums had been transformed into a brightly-lit kitchen, its counters covered with baking pans, bowls, fruit, flour, and a multitude of other ingredients.

Zouichi, wearing a dark blue apron, was just taking a batch of chilled dough out of the refrigerator, rolling it carefully out between waxed paper sheets. It was looking pretty good, or so he thought. Nothing had even exploded yet!

From somewhere within the kitchen, the smell of cake wafted up into the air. Caaake.

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Oh, oops.

Chell hadn't quite gotten the message that it wasn't terribly socially acceptable to sneak around and generally be creepy.

Obviously the solution was to peek into the open, peering quizzically at the man in the apron.

Whatcha doooooing?

Oh, it was that young corporate employee. Zouichi gave her a brief wave. "Hello. Chell, right? Are you looking for something? Or would you like some cake?"

She nodded to affirm that yes, he'd gotten her personal information correct, and allowed herself a few steps further into the kitchen, very obviously eyeing the cake.

Asking Chell if she wanted cake was like asking her if she liked breathing.

Zouichi dusted off his hands, got a plate, and cut her a slice of rum cake (http://baking.about.com/od/bundtcakes/r/bacardirum.htm). "Here you are. I hope you like it."

Boy, if he'd known she liked cake that much, he would have invited her.

It was cake. It was for-real (well, no it wasn't for-real, but it was good enough) delicious cake that was not a lie (in the sense that GLaDOS' cakes were lies), and she spent a few long moments just staring at the slice, as if she didn't know what to do with it.

She knew what to do with it, of course, and pulled up a chair, taking a fork and slowly, very slowly, bringing a piece to her lips.

Have you ever seen someone eat cake with pure, unadulterated reverence? Now you have.

Uh.

"I had no idea that you liked cake that much. When we get a chance to resupply again, I'll be sure to make some for you." He paused.

"By the way, I see your AI isn't with you today. He wasn't injured in the battle, was he?"

Yeah, just. Just give her a minute. She has to savor it.

The prospect of real, not-imagined not-Sensorium cake was enough to snap her from her reverie, but her expression hardened slightly at the mention of the AI.

Pft. Wheatley. Injured. Chell should be so lucky. Shaking her head in response to the question, she opted to forego silly charades in favor of imagining up some paper and a pen (that was so nifty). She shoved another bite of cake into her mouth, leaving the fork there, and began to write.

In the media library.

It really was a convenient place to dump him when she needed a break, after all.

Zouichi thought they were friends, really! Why wouldn't Chell be friends with her (admittedly slightly loud) AI buddy?

He nodded. "I do hope you can find someone in Engineering to give him a means of getting around soon. Although they seem pretty busy with repairs at the moment. By the way, what kind of cake do you like best? Chocolate?"

Yeah, there was a funny story about that, actually--it involved a lot of mashy spike plates and attempted murder.

But she didn't want to think about that, not when there was cake to be had. She shrugged idly in agreement, considering the delicious confection in front of her for a few moments before standing and rooting through the cabinets of the imagined kitchen.

Chell emerged with some of the things she assumed were necessary for cake making--sugar, flour, cocoa powder--and dumped them unceremoniously on the countertop.

She was going to bake.

Whoa, okay. Zouichi moved some of his own supplies aside, offering her an empty mixing bowl. "I didn't know you knew how to bake. Do you need any help with that?"

If not, he'd just watch, because he was sort of curious about what she'd choose.

Another shrug. Chell did not, in fact, know how to bake. At all. But whatever, how hard could it be? Obviously flour, sugar, and chocolate did not a pastry make, so she made her way to the fridge.

Milk, eggs, butter...she began to look more unsure of herself the more ingredients she found.

Well, maybe she was just rusty or something. "Here, let's try a recipe I looked up earlier."

He set aside a pile of ingredients, beginning to write out a list on his Omnicomm. "Okay, we need eggs, flour, vegetable oil, baking powder... sour milk. And we're going to need two 8-inch round pans..."

He rummaged through a nearby cabinet, pulling two down. "I'll grease these, you measure those out and whisk all of them together, all right?"

A recipe! She could read a recipe. Much better than pretending she knew what she was doing and creating some kind of awful travesty of baking that didn't taste any good at all.

Chell offered Zouichi a tiny, excited smile.

Before starting on her designated tasks, however, she returned to her pad of paper and scrawled out a question. It would be polite to make conversation, after all.

Do you bake often?

He smiled in return. "No, not really. I used to spend most of my time engaged in some rather unenviably dangerous missions. Besides, there weren't many kitchens around. What about you?"

He was sort of wondering about the no talking thing, but it would probably be impolite to ask.

...also Wheatley generally made up for the silence.

Her eyebrows raised. Unbelievably dangerous, huh?

As Chell measured out the ingredients (it really wasn't so hard now that there were instructions in front of her), she gave another shake of the head, this one a little more despondent. Kind of hard to bake when you were stuck in an underground lab.

"You know," he said, taking the expression as a request for elaboration, "Running around, getting shot at, that sort of thing."

"Well, er... don't worry about it too much. After all, you can do as much as you want now, right? I'm surprised they didn't allow you enough free time to pursue your hobbies, though. It doesn't sound like a very ethical work practice."

Chell would be the first to admit that she'd been exceedingly vague both about her past and about the real nature of her relationship with Wheatley, though she hoped that her thoughts on GLaDOS were abundantly clear.

Unethical was the least of it. Reaching for her pencil again, she scrawled out two words, her lips pulled into a tight line.

TEST SUBJECT.

"Your job was to be a test subject?" That was not even a job what

"How'd they get you to agree to that? Or did they not ask you?" Because the second choice would kind of explain a lot of things.

That answer was easy enough, at least.

No choice. GLaDOS.

Ahh. He hadn't been absolutely sure until now. "And, of course, GLaDOS is alive and well on this ship. An essential member of the crew, even. I've never encountered her myself, but I understand she's rather... unpleasant to deal with."

Unpleasant was a bit of an understatement, and Chell's expression said as much.

She didn't write anything after that, instead turning back to the bowl and filling it with the ingredients.

Cake made everything better.

Understatement was his thing. Zouichi, for his part, began creating a cherry liqueur mix to use for the interior of the cake. This was clearly going to be the best cake.

"Are you about ready to start mixing?"

Looking down at the bowl, Chell decided her ingredients were satisfactory and nodded, reaching for the electric hand mixer.

After fumbling with the cord for a moment, she found the switch and flipped it on, only to fumble and promptly drop it when the beaters buzzed in her face.

"Ah... um. Are you sure you don't want to use a hand whisk?" Zouichi wasn't going to laugh at Chell. That was mean! And rude!

...but it was kind of funny.

Luckily, Chell was undaunted. Now that she knew exactly what the thing did, she could TOTALLY USE IT NO PROBLEM. Totally. She would not cave in the face of danger, even if today, danger was electric hand-mixers.

This time, she put it in the bowl before turning it on. TAKE THAT.

Home is where the tart is [Open]

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