Cupcakes

[Tabs]

May 22nd

Tabs remembered when he first volunteered to be propagandist. Not assigned, volunteered. So clearly he must have been willing and ready to help out at one point. Though it had been such a minuscule amount of time ago, only a few months, Tabs felt like it’d been ages since he felt that way. Maybe, he thought, it was something to do with him not feeling much of a bond to most of his contemporaries. Well, he did with a few, but they weren’t around anymore.

He figured, maybe, just maybe, he might be able to capture that lightning in a bottle again; find someone he connected with. His anxiety, which had recently reared its ugly head again to vex him, constantly whispered to him otherwise. Oh no, he wouldn’t mention his anxiety to anyone -- those were just stupid, unnecessary conversations best avoided. But he would pursue his goals in spite of it.

The creature did love to entertain. When he first pitched himself, he exercised his ability to spawn objects. Unfortunately, his ability to spawn food only extended as far as coffee and donuts. Which, while he did provide those, Tabs felt it would be noticed if he went a step beyond. Hopefully.

He was in a small kitchen outside of a private dining room just for the higher ranking Blackblood officers. Though Tabs scarcely remembered any instances where he’d cooked before, he wanted to provide something other than his usual fare. Apparently, he had intended on baking cupcakes. A pastel pink apron which appropriately read “kiss the cook” was dangling off the entity’s skinny frame. He moved in a delicate, feminine manner as he approached the oven to open it up. Upon being greeted by a billow of black smoke, all delicateness vanished as he backed away, waving his claw and cursing.

The smoke and smell of burnt pastries swiftly exited the kitchen even after the oven door was slammed shut by a hoof.

[Nasira]

Nasira was not sure what to make of Tabs. He had proven to be an invaluable ally as propagandist and overseer, but she did not really know him all that well. They did not speak to each other outside of work despite having mutual friends. It had been that way when she was an overseer, and it was like that now. Nasira had never really thought about it...until today.

It all started when Nasira heard the oven door slam, which was almost immediately followed by the pungent smell of something burning. She reluctantly got up from the divan she had been reclining on to investigate.

"Hey, is everything-oh." Nasira abruptly stopped at the threshold as Tabs struggled to dispel a big black pall of smoke. Whatever he had been baking was no doubt ruined. What a shame.

Then one of the smoke detectors Shiloh installed went off. 

A muscle in the necromancer's jaw twitched. If Nasira had heard a more grating noise before, she could not remember it. It was the feeling of screws being drilled into her skull while every hair on her body was being pulled out at the same time - in sound form. She wanted to simultaneously dive beneath the couch cushions to escape the unholy piercing wail that would make Iblis weep and burn the city to the ground. Oh Shiloh did explain how to turn it off, but damned if she could remember right now.

Unable to bear the incessant assault on her ears a second longer, Nasira ferociously ripped the disk from its nail and chucked it out the nearest window.

[Tabs]

Tabs was occupied for a minute or two trying to dispel the smoke by waving a hand, clearly irritated by it. He stepped back away from the clearing fumes enough that he was no longer so irritated as to not notice the repeating noise. The creature was fairly well versed in human things so it didn't take him long to realize what the sound was. A claw was lifted to disable the device, but a second later, the sound had vanished.

Tabs rounded to notice the smoke alarm was missing. It was also just then that he realized Nasira had appeared. Normally, he would offer some sort of greeting, but was distracted by other emotions: mostly embarrassment. He gave a small whine as he ran a hand over one of his faces. Why did he have to be a complete failure at everything?

He moved back in the direction of the oven, meanwhile gesturing with a claw and causing a barn fan to appear to one side. He took the door, that was now dented thanks to his hoof, and peered in. The fan turned on by itself to further air out the smoke. Apparently not liking what he saw, he took a few steps back again, this time clawing the glass of his face harder.

“No. Why?” he muttered.

Tabs turned to face away, visibly dejected, before he lifted a few pairs of eyes in Nasira’s direction.

“Good afternoon,” he said, apparently wanting to ignore what just happened.

Though Tabs tilted his heads slightly, hovering in the direction of the wall the smoke alarm had been on, wondering where it went.