[There's a smudge of something across the bridge of Xion's nose; it looks like it's batter or cookie dough or something. She has her sleeves rolled up, her hair is pulled back from her face in two very tiny pigtails and her cheeks are flushed. Behind her there's all sorts of cooking detritus in the confined space of the apartment kitchen, including
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How about- um. Cinnamon rolls!
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Great, there's a recipe for them in here too. Where do we keep the cinnamon?
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[And she's off on a rummage through the cupboards and then-]
Oh shoot, we're almost out.
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