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[sunbaked_baker]

There are familiar, delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Sunshine is there, her hair up in a small yellow scarf to keep it out of her way, blue apron on over her red t-shirt and purple jean shorts.

There are covered bowls of bread dough by the oven, rising in the radiant warmth as other loaves bake within.

Sunshine herself is working on a bowl of hearty field grains and seeds bread, thumping into the dough as though it had personally insulted her.

Comments

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart finds those delicious smells familiar as well, and hurries to get into the kitchen.

Yes!

"Sunshine!" he says. "You're back!"

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine looks up, hands deep in thick dough, lumpy with whole grains and seeds.

"Yep," she says, smiling wryly. "Can't keep me away, apparently."

[scots_wolf]

"I approve!" Urquhart says. "I'd miss you and your baking!"

[sunbaked_baker]

"Aww," she grins, chuckling as she moves to continue kneading. "That's sweet, wolfman."

"Felt like making bread today. I still made cinnamon rolls earlier, but today felt like a bread day."

[scots_wolf]

"This looks and smells like some good sturdy bread from home," Urquhart says, almost wistfully.

Eventually, he might have to find somebody with a door to Scotland in the future, or within driving distance. Unfortunately, the only people from there Urquhart knows so far are those irritating police people from Manchester.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Let's see, it has buckwheat, barley, rye and wheat flours in it, water and yeast and salt, sunflower and pumpkin seeds, rolled oats, ground flaxseed and wheat bran. Very sturdy."

Nothing artificial, nothing added.

[scots_wolf]

"Yes, that sounds just right," Urquhart says. "And smells right, too."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Good to know," she grins, kneading the dough, turning it in a slow circle until it feels right.

Folding it in half and tucking the edges under, she sets the dough into a large greased bowl, and settles a damp cloth over the top of it. It joins the others in the radiant warmth near the oven.

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart leans on the counter, breathes in deeply, and smiles.

"Oh yes," he says.

[sunbaked_baker]

Rae laughs. "There're some that'll be coming out soon, don't worry."

"Cranberry-sprouted wheat, and a couple loaves of apple-pecan."

[scots_wolf]

"You know," Urquhart says, "if I were able to feel love at all, I would!"

[sunbaked_baker]

Rae doesn't exactly follow. She tilts her head and frowns slightly at him as she takes up her oven mitts. "What do you mean?"

[scots_wolf]

"That was a joke," Urquhart says. "As I can't exactly say 'I love you and your baking' or something like that."

[777thdegree.livejournal.com]

"I feel I should be leaping to the dough's defense." Balthazar is leaning up against the doorway, watching Sunshine beat her dough into submission

[sunbaked_baker]

"Nah," she says. "It's for its own good."

Also, he wouldn't fit into the bowl!

[777thdegree.livejournal.com]

Impossible is just things you haven't really considered trying yet.

"Wouldn't do to have uppity dough." He actually has very little idea how bread should or should not be beaten - pastry making was never part of his education or lifestyle.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Nope," she says. "Have to show it who's boss, or else you'll find yourself engulfed."

The amount of cinnamon roll dough she works with in her bakery every morning could very easily stand in for The Blob.

"...Though perhaps it's not exactly for its own good. It's going to be eaten, after all."

[777thdegree.livejournal.com]

"For our own good, then." Our, yes. There has to be a cinnamon roll in here somewhere, after all. Slowly he saunters into the kitchen, his hands kept firmly in the pockets of his coat.

It wouldn't do to gorge.

[sunbaked_baker]

There may be a small tray with one or two rolls left from this morning, among the crusty, warm, loaves of hearty bread on the cooling racks.

Sunshine doesn't do artificial anything. Not when it comes to her cooking.

"Much better."

[777thdegree.livejournal.com]

Those rolls look lonely and unloved. That just isn't right. The sorcerer helps himself to one before settling onto a corner stool, out of the way of potential baking.

Yes, he already has a payment system set up with the bar. These rolls are that good.

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine lets him take it, smiling slightly as she pulls on a pair of oven mitts. Theivery is second only to licking one's fingers and plate in terms of flattery.

It's clear that the bakery, or in this case, the kitchen, is where Sunshine feels most at home. Her domain, the Cinnamon Roll Queen.

And the lady of the many loaves, today, perhaps. A couple loaves of apple-pecan bread and one of cranberry-sprouted wheat emerge, held securely as she takes them over to the cooling racks.

[777thdegree.livejournal.com]

The smell is heavenly, and her confidence is reassuring. It makes the last couple days, with it's bone-deep weariness, worth it.

"Not a pastry day?"

[sunbaked_baker]

"Felt like making something more substantial, today," she replies, smiling slightly as she eases the loaves out of the pans and onto the rack and flicks a finger against the bottoms of the loaves to check that they're done all the way through.

They are.

"I have to make it count when I venture into the 'nutritional' side of things."

"How've you been?" she asks, after a moment of checking the bowls of rising dough to see which is ready.

[777thdegree.livejournal.com]

"There was a child in Argentina." He says, between bites. It isn't often he goes on the road anymore, but this one had made international news - some were calling him a saint, before he even managed to get himself killed in some gory fashion.

"I managed to avoid eating any Chinchillas."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Glad you managed to avoid eating anything cute and fuzzy," she says.

"'Was' a child?" No luck? her look asks.