An Expert In The Baking

”Clean” was not usually the word one would use to describe Fenn’s apartment.

Right now though, against all odds, it was actually edging closer to that descriptor. The floor was swept, the battered futon was made, and all of the sticky stains on his counter had been wiped away in a hasty, half-panicked blur. Sure, there was still that pile of laundry over there. Sure, he couldn't really do much for that coffee-burned spot on the carpet. Sure, he might’ve stuffed a few loose books into the closet, where they were sure to take on… smells. But hey, he’d hauled the trash out! That was something.

The unusual occasion was a guest. Not just any guest — not a “client”, not his old Courtfather, and not even his landlord. No, the half-hearted sticky notes Fenn’d slapped on the wall of the MCC had actually gotten an answer. He was going to learn how to bake properly.

Garbed in a baggy sweater and old sweatpants, Fenn buzzed around the little kitchen. All of his bakingware was laid out on the counters. Most of it was a mismatch of cheap plastic, but some was ceramic — everything that had to go in the oven, and would otherwise be made of metal. Jii was bringing the ingredient-stuff for this lesson. Still, as he kept his ears directed at the door, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was forgetting anything. Maybe it was just nerves.

“Preparing for houseguests seems like almost as much work as actually having ‘em over,” he heaved through a sigh, leaning his head against the counter.

@Goblin

The knocks at the door were rather gentle, but Fenn’s sharp ears picked them up easily enough.

It certainly sounded like he’d expect her knock to sound. Just in case, the fae fluttered over to peek out the peephole. Never could be too careful. He caught glimpse of white hair and large lavender ears. Yep, that was Jii. The door opened with a rattle of the lock and a nervous chuckle out of Fenn. “Hey, uh, merry meet,” he greeted her, radiating a nervous hopefulness as he glanced over his shoulder.

Specifically, he was hoping that the lemon-cleaner had done a good enough job of clearing out the “herbal” smells from the bathroom and the closet.

“Don’t mind the place, guests don’t come a-knocking real often. Looks like you came prepared!” As he hummed aside to let her and her hefty bags inside, his antennae flicked up hungrily. “Mmm. Them’s apples that I’m smelling?”