(Untitled)

[broken_brushes]

Let me tell you something, being alive is no walk in the park. Not if you want to do it right, at least, and given that I was on my second life, I kind of wanted to not screw it up. Being dead affords a person some serious perspective and I like to think that I carried some of that back with me when I found myself suddenly alive again, but the

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[irisewiththesun]

Zuko's been roaming the island, and it just continues to get weirder. He doesn't really recognize any of the animals, except one that looks like it could possibly be the boarcupine's smaller, spine-less cousin. He ends up outside the building he's told is the compound, and decides to go in to check out the place.

Many people find the smell of something burning unpleasant, but to Zuko it's almost like an extension of himself. It's a sensory reminder of the destructive power of fire, a power he himself has exercised on more than one village in his time. It's not all fire is, though, which is something he's only recently come to realize.

There's a girl in the kitchen when he walks in - at least he thinks it's the kitchen, but he doesn't really recognize anything in it, aside from the furniture. She's pulling something out of a box-like thing with a door, which seems to be the source of the burning smell. "Oh, that's too bad," he says lamely, mainly for something to say instead of just standing there.

[broken_brushes]

I glanced up and pulled an apologetic face. "Yeah. I can make more, but the Compound is still going to smell like ass for awhile. Sorry about that."

Sighing, I crossed to the trash bin and shook the burnt cookies from the pan. Not surprisingly, several were reluctant to let go, and I pointed to the counter by the oven.

"Could you pass me that spatula?"

[irisewiththesun]

Zuko has no idea what a spatula is, but there's not much to choose from in the direction she's pointing and he takes an educated guess based on what he figures she's gonna do with it. "This?" he says, hoping he's guessed right as he hands the spatula to her.

[broken_brushes]

"That's the one, thanks," I replied, and offered him a wan smile as I accepted the spatula. "I haven't seen you before," I absently added as I set about scraping the remaining cookies free from the pan. "I'm going to guess that means you're new." Looking back over my shoulder to him again, I smiled a bit brighter. "This isn't much of a welcome, sorry about that."

[angriestman]

As a man who's been living along for a while, in a motel no less, Raylan's not exactly picky, but something smells revolting. He came up to see if he could scrounge some stuff for lunch with Rachel but stops in the doorway, fanning the air in front of him with his hat.

"Wow," he says, grin slowly spreading across his face. "Anything I can do, Shari?"

[broken_brushes]

I lifted an index finger to point Raylan's way in warning. "You can not start, that's what you can do. I can tell you want to, but I don't need any comments from the cowboy peanut gallery."

Looking down to the pan in my hands, I made a frustrated sound low in my throat, then dumped the cookies unceremoniously in the garbage can.

[angriestman]

"I'm not sayin' a word," says Raylan, dropping his hat on the table and giving Shari a wide personal space bubble as he heads for the fridge. He glances over his shoulder at her.

"Seriously, though - you need a hand?"

[broken_brushes]

"You could turn on the exhaust fan," I replied with a nod over my shoulder toward the oven. "There's a switch on the wall over there next to the oven. And you can go ahead and close the oven door, too. Thanks." Sighing, I continued trying to pry the last cookie from the sheet. Burnt or not, there was always one that refused to come off easily.

[rhymingdevil]

"I'm pretty sure that baking usually implies an edible result."

I was kind of a smart-ass in my first life and it looked like on life number two it was shaping up to be more of the same. In my defense, I was never a smart-ass when someone was being sincere, and if Shari wanted to, I'm pretty sure she could put me in my place about it.

Shari? Could also be a little bit of a smart-ass.

"Need help?"

[broken_brushes]

"I am not above beating you with this pan," I replied with a syrupy sweet smile and an exaggerated bat of my eyelashes. The cookies were a completely lost cause, and after a passing thought of using them as hockey pucks come December, I crossed to the garbage and tilted the pan to deposit my failed baked goods into the trash.

[rhymingdevil]

"I wouldn't think any less of you if you did," I confirmed, giving her tone right back to her. Score one for the smart asses.

I paused, and when I spoke again my tone was a little more sincere. "Do you need any help?"

[broken_brushes]

"There's not much to do," I pointed out with a wrinkle of my nose as I guided the cookies into the trash. "You can turn on the exhaust fan, it might help the smell a little bit." Pausing, I pointed my mitten-covered hand in the direction of the switch on the wall.

[c_thomas_flood]

Somebody who hadn't been through what Tommy had, couldn't fully appreciate food the way he could. Tommy found himself reveling in all states of food - even the disastrously cremated dishes, beyond rescue.

Tommy drifted into the kitchen, beaming, and approached the girl looking down at the mass between her oven mitts, hurt by its appearance. "Smells great."

[broken_brushes]

Had this guy not looked so completely earnest about it, I would have assumed he was being a smart ass. To be fair, I probably deserved a little sarcasm in return for my culinary flub, but no, one look at the guy's face and it was obvious he was either completely serious or deserving of an Oscar.

"You a fan of blackened dishes, then?" I asked, my own face pulled into a moue of disgust at the scorched scent still wafting from the cookies held before me.

[c_thomas_flood]

"Well, lets just say I'm not picky when it comes to food," Tommy shrugged, moving closer to peer at the tray. "What was it supposed to be?"

[broken_brushes]

"They were cookies, before I zoned out and let them get burnt to a crisp," I replied with a sigh as I carried the pan over the to garbage, where I began to shake the cookies loose. "Trust me when I say you don't want them, even if you're not picky. There should be some others in one of those Tupperware containers on the counter, if you want some that aren't charred."

[provincialbelle]

Belle liked to be objective about things and people, but when she saw the baked good come out of the oven, she couldn't help but wince. "Maybe if you slather it utterly with something?" she offered, trying to be optimistic about something that she feared was an utter lost cause.

[broken_brushes]

"I don't think there's any saving them," I all too readily admitted to Belle's suggestion. When wasting a dozen cookies was held against my reputation, pride was always going to win out. "I don't think there's anybody on the island I dislike enough to inflict these upon, even under a mountain of icing." Frowning, I moved to slide the scorched cookies into the garbage can.

[provincialbelle]

Belle winced as they went, knowing that they had to go, but that it didn't reflect poorly on any skills. It was simply just...well, they just weren't right, just this once. "Would you like help in starting over?" she asked, trying to be helpful.

[broken_brushes]

"Sure, if you're looking for something to do," I replied as I carried the now-empty pan back to the sink. Belle was always very sweet, so her offer wasn't that much of a surprise, but I did wonder if there was more to it than the idle politeness of a teenage girl.

"If you look in the fridge, there should be some dough already made," I added as I set about scrubbing remnant of charred cookie from the pan.