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Jeff, God of Biscuits, Sunday afternoon

It was possible that Jessica's new-found interest (or, increasingly, obsession) with cooking was making her insufferable. At least, that's the way the staff at J,GoB probably felt as she tried to decide on a snack. She would point at something in the display case, then ask questions about the ingredients, how it was prepared, how it was presented in the display, and then decide that the total package didn't sound appealing so she moved onto something else.

The clerk probably wanted to murder her. But since Jessica still had her spider-sense, she knew she was in no real danger of anything but starving herself and everyone around her if she couldn't pick just ONE THING that somebody else made.

"What about the glazed donut?" Jessica asked before the clerk started headcountering.

[OOC: Open? Why of course!]

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Victor watched her order from the table holding his light afternoon snack of ... okay, so he'd ordered a dozen pastries, but if any were left over they were breakfast tomorrow, right? It just made sense to buy in bulk.

He waved to Jessica with a cherry danish in one hand.

"If you just want something good the cinnamon Boston creams are amazing. Also, hi."

"Hey, Victor," Jessica said, looking over. "I can't argue with a recommendation like that. But if it doesn't live up to the hype, I will be forced to hold that against you personally. Maybe forever."

"Fine, but 'amazing' is low-end for hype," Victor pointed out. "I didn't say it'd ruin you for all other pastries for life or anything."

"I felt it was implied," Jessica noted. She turned to the clerk and ordered, "One Boston cream that will ruin me for all other pastries for life, guaranteed by that guy."

"That is not what I said," Victor called to the clerk, shaking his head for emphasis. "It may be true, but it's not what I said."

The clerk ... did not seem overly interested in this, strangely enough.

The service was actually quick at that point, probably just so they could get Jessica the hell away from the counter. Jessica took her pastry and - without asking if it was okay, because why wouldn't it be? - took a seat by Victor. "I don't come here enough to know the best stuff, so thank you for the help. Especially since the clerk could barely answer a couple dozen preparation questions about anything." Look her her eyes and how they rolled at that.

"No problem. I'm glad I could help somebody out," Victor said, before he became curious about the impressive eyeroll.

"Did you just go vegan or something?" he wondered. "'Cause Boston cream's really not gonna help with that."

"No, I just picked up cooking seriously, so I wanted to know how they did things," Jessica said. "But from what I was hearing, I bet that if you give me a week, I could make some of their stuff better than they can."

"I always thought this place was pretty good," Victor said, but idly. "But cooking's cool. Actually, you cooking's sort of great for me if you share. I think I'm moving into a growth spurt or something."

Because cyborgs had growth spurts all the time.

"I'm a giver. I make, then I give. That applies to food, too," Jessica said. "Have anything in particular you want me to take a crack at?"

"Deep-dish Hawaiian pizza with ham and pineapple?" Victor suggested. "Please, if you're cooking anyhow? It's awesome, and the pizza place on the island doesn't always have pineapple."

Edited 2012-11-19 00:25 (UTC)

"Sorry. As a brand new culinary snob from New York, I'm morally opposed to deep dish 'pizza,'" Jessica said, air quoting all over that Chicago staple. Sigh, Jess. Sigh. "The rest is no problem at all."

"I can survive thin crust," Victor said quickly, because that was still better than having to make it for himself. He polished off the danish and licked the glaze off his fingers. "So did anything prompt the interest in cooking, or is it just one of those things?"

"Just one of those things over the past week or two," Jessica said. Technically she was only lying by about 6 days. Considering she claimed to be 16 when she was actually 1, this kind of time fudging barely counted as a lie. "I tried it out and found out, hey, I'm not poisoning anyone! Maybe I'm not too shabby at this."

Victor nodded, his vague curiosity as to whether this was a power switching thing or not deferred. "Hey, not poisoning is an excellent place to start," he said. "And if you want to do more than scramble eggs and heat up leftovers, you're ahead of me."

"I made pancakes for a bunch of people yesterday. I have to say, probably my finest work," Jessica said. "I just wish you had been around to clean up some of the remains."

Victor shrugged, waving it off. "Too bad, but I managed to fend for myself okay. And you should try the Boston Cream so we know if I'm right or wrong."

Jessica gave a nod and then took a bite of her pastry.

She chewed and thought about it for what she hoped was a ridiculously long time, just to drag it out a little longer.

After swallowing, she took another moment to think it over. And then, finally, "It's pretty good."

"Dude, some of us are in a rush. Hurry up."

Olive thought she was hilarious.

"You can't rush perfection, Speedy," Jessica said. "Well, you could, but then it would probably not be perfect."

"I bet I could," Olive said. "I bet I could rush perfection and it'd still be perfect, and also, this is a pastry we're talking about."

"A potentially perfect pastry, providing me with ponderous perceptions," Jessica said. "And see? I was forced to rush without superspeed, so there were three non-P words in that sentence. QED."

"No one forced you," Olive refuted. "That was your own fault. No QED. Pick out your perfect pastry, god."

"I was forced!" Jessica reaffirmed. "And I'm not the pastry god. That's a different J-name."

"At least you're still punny, even if you're suddenly a pastry perfectionist," Olive said, tapping her foot about four times as fast as she normally'd be able to and smirking.

"You realize that now I'm doing this to mess with you more than I am to get the right thing, right?" Jessica teased.

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Jeff, God of Biscuits, Sunday afternoon

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