Baking When Nervous
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back against the counter and watch Andrew bustle around the kitchen. We never tied him to a chair, and it might've been a bad idea if it was anyone but Andrew. He wouldn't try to run. He's too scared of me. Besides, he's also too busy making cookies.
That's right. Andrew is making cookies in my kitchen.
He was whining so much about being bored, and I really didn't want to slap him 'cause I'm not big with the violence, so I asked him what he wanted. He said - get this - that he bakes when he's nervous. Well, he must be extremely nervous because he's making enough batter for an entire army. Or just enough to feed me and Xander, 'cause we eat like an army.
I stare at Andrew for a while 'cause, okay, I'm bored too, then the light on the oven turns on. "The oven's done pre-heating," I inform him. I know I shouldn't encourage him, but he's useless otherwise, and hey, cookies!
That's right. Andrew is making cookies in my kitchen.
He was whining so much about being bored, and I really didn't want to slap him 'cause I'm not big with the violence, so I asked him what he wanted. He said - get this - that he bakes when he's nervous. Well, he must be extremely nervous because he's making enough batter for an entire army. Or just enough to feed me and Xander, 'cause we eat like an army.
I stare at Andrew for a while 'cause, okay, I'm bored too, then the light on the oven turns on. "The oven's done pre-heating," I inform him. I know I shouldn't encourage him, but he's useless otherwise, and hey, cookies!