fandomhigh | Home Ec, Tuesday, Period 1

"Right." Eliot clapped his hands. Too much had happened in too short an amount of time -- again -- and he was full of tightly controlled manic energy. "Today's project takes for freaking ever, so we're going to jump right in." He dropped a box onto the teacher's desk and pulled out a sack of flour, a canister of salt, a packet of yeast, a bowl, and a mug. "We're makin' bread."

He looked over the ingredients and rolled his eyes, then picked up the mug, spun it once around on his finger, and tore open the flour. "Nevermind that this process is so goddamn time consuming that almost no one in the modern era bothers doin' it themselves unless they got a machine or they get paid for it." He scooped out two and a half mugs full of flour and tossed them into the bowl. "At least the recipe we're workin' with is dead simple. It's also real specific that this ain't the kind of bread you punch and slam around when you're kneadin' it, but if that's what you're feelin' today -- I ain't gonna blame you a bit." He added the salt, yeast, and water and stuck his hands in. "You can use a spoon for the mixing if you like, but honestly, this stuff is gonna get all over your hands later anyway. Might as well dive right in the deep end right away." He looked up from the dough and around at the students. "The ingredients are on your tables, guys, get to it. Sooner you get it mixed, sooner you can goof off half the class while we let it rise. Then maybe I'll show y'all how to whip up a nice bruschetta to put on this stuff once it's all done."

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Hyacinthe was going to raise an eyebrow at that. Because, c'mon, Eliot. You could apologize better than that.
'
"I'd say 'twas less cryptic and more...not immediately obvious," he observed. "And I never promised the dromonde to be easy. Sometimes 'tis even misleading."

It wasn't his part to explain, only see.

Eliot reminded himself that he was not here to argue semantics. "Anyway. Thanks. We managed to get her back, and I ain't seen Hardison so happy in months."

That was fine. Next time, Hyacinthe would charge him double for it.

"I'm glad then, 'twas useful," he said. "Your friend was in trouble?"

Double nothing was still nothing, kid.

"She got herself stuck in a bad situation, yeah. We'd all but given up on her."

He had. Hardison had refused to. Words couldn't express how glad Eliot was to be wrong. Even if part of him wished it was Kathy who'd been on the other end of that portal instead.

And a tiny part of Hardison resenting Kathy for putting Raven into that situation in the first place.

"I'm glad she's made it home now," Hyacinthe said. "And that the dromonde could help, even in some small way in making that happen."

"Me too. I'm sorry I assumed you were scamming me."

There. That was a proper apology.

. . . He really wanted to throw 'but we had just been talking about scamming people' on the end of it. Because even when you were forty, sometimes you ended up a little bit twelve.

Which made it a terrible time to launch into a scam! At least without knowing the mark better first.

"'Tis of no consequence," Hyacinthe said. "Not an unusual conclusion to come to when dealing with a Tsingano."

"I ain't --" Eliot hauled back on the knee-jerk 'I'm not racist' response. "One of my partners got hurt by a guy doin' a cold read on her, while back. It's . . . a little bit of a sore spot sometimes."

"A charlatan." Hyacinthe's lip curled. "There are many tricks we will play on the gadje to part them from coin, but no Tsingani would debase the dromonde so. We have little enough to call our own as it is."

Home Ec, Tuesday, Period 1

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!

Re: Make bread!