(no subject)
Annie'd been busy at home for hours, but there comes a point in time when even the most dedicated baker staving off anxiety pangs has to stop what she's doing. That point, last night, came when the doorbell rang and a middle-aged woman with the EPOC cap badge turned up on her doorstep. She did a lot of driving last night after that, and does not much want to do that much driving again for a long, long time.
But that's over now, thank God, and she's home... and there's still no one to eat half the stuff she made in her fit of anxiety. So she's grabbed some of it- several fruit pies and a pile of different flavours of biscuit- and brought it with her to the Bar, where she can wait for the coffee she had to drink to drive safely last night to wear off. The pies and such are arranged on the table in front of her, but all she managed to write on her sign today is "MADE MORE PASTRY THAN I CAN EAT - GUARANTEED NO MAGIC INVOLVED".
But that's over now, thank God, and she's home... and there's still no one to eat half the stuff she made in her fit of anxiety. So she's grabbed some of it- several fruit pies and a pile of different flavours of biscuit- and brought it with her to the Bar, where she can wait for the coffee she had to drink to drive safely last night to wear off. The pies and such are arranged on the table in front of her, but all she managed to write on her sign today is "MADE MORE PASTRY THAN I CAN EAT - GUARANTEED NO MAGIC INVOLVED".