(no subject)
Technically, it's a birthday pie, not a cake, but Duck doesn't expect that will be a disappointment. It's strawberry after all, and in honor of the occassion, Duck's thrown caution to the wind and added a bit of extra sugar, so he doesn't think Geoffrey will mind.
Neither does he expect Geoffrey will protest the absence of a large celebration this year. After the month they've had, a quiet evening together feels more appropriate, and Duck is all but salivating for the chance to just have some simple fun together, to celebrate something without any other complications weighing on them, and on Geoffrey in particular.
He pushes a candle into the center of the pie and puts it on their table, covering it with a cloth. The candle in the middle forces the cloth into a little tented mound, one that Duck will let Geoffrey unveil himself later when the other dishes have been eaten. Those dishes are covered too, but it won't be hard for Geoffrey to guess what's beneath. The slow-roasted chicken(things) took all day, and the smell is likely tormenting the far side of the Hamlet even now. There are yams, too, which aren't quite the sweet potatos he's wishing they are, but close enough, and fresh-baked bread, whose creation in the kitchen had required Duck to temporarily dethrone Eostre as the kitchen's most unholy terror.
He smiles to himself as he remembers chasing Mamet bodily away from the oven, smiling wider when he hears Geoffrey's footsteps on the path outside.
Neither does he expect Geoffrey will protest the absence of a large celebration this year. After the month they've had, a quiet evening together feels more appropriate, and Duck is all but salivating for the chance to just have some simple fun together, to celebrate something without any other complications weighing on them, and on Geoffrey in particular.
He pushes a candle into the center of the pie and puts it on their table, covering it with a cloth. The candle in the middle forces the cloth into a little tented mound, one that Duck will let Geoffrey unveil himself later when the other dishes have been eaten. Those dishes are covered too, but it won't be hard for Geoffrey to guess what's beneath. The slow-roasted chicken(things) took all day, and the smell is likely tormenting the far side of the Hamlet even now. There are yams, too, which aren't quite the sweet potatos he's wishing they are, but close enough, and fresh-baked bread, whose creation in the kitchen had required Duck to temporarily dethrone Eostre as the kitchen's most unholy terror.
He smiles to himself as he remembers chasing Mamet bodily away from the oven, smiling wider when he hears Geoffrey's footsteps on the path outside.