[There's always a lot less fast, emphatic hand movements happening when she makes bombs, which she hasn't made in a long time since here. Or more like, never since she got here. It's good; she was never one for making bombs, even if she knows how to make all the things go boom.

Can doesn't always mean I want to.

She looks up at him to find him focused on her whisking, and decides to test the cake mix for taste, at least.] Oh, it's my cake now? I thought the invitation had been 'come let's bake a cake' not 'let me loom while you bake yourself a cake'.

[She dips her pinkie finger inside the batter, scoops some up and licks it clean. It's good.] Local bakeries have all kinds of froofy-looking icing on cake.