Cookies -- Miss_Sanguine
Mai was used to waiting for long periods of time having been brought up in the family that she had, so when Zuko told her to stay put while he went back into the kitchen of the Jasmine Dragon, she did so without any real complaint. At first she just watched as the last customers of the night came and went, but that grew boring very quickly and she soon settled into a comatose-like stare at the table as she fondled the sharp blades of the knives tucked away in her sleeves.
It was when a whole hour had passed that her boredom grew to intolerable levels. The tea shop was now completely empty, Iroh having closed up twenty minutes prior, and she was left alone in the quiet of the spacious room. Noises had been coming from the kitchen for the last half an hour, the clattering of pans and other kitchen appliances, along with the occasional curse from her husband.
Honestly, she had no idea what he was doing back there. He’d given no hint when he’d sat her down and told her not to move. The only thing she could think of was that he was trying to make her some tea, but it made no sense, really. He may not have inherited the tea-making skills his Uncle had, but he had learned to make a decent cup in the last year. It never took an hour to make tea.
She was just about to get up and go see what he was doing, when a strange smell suddenly hit her. Something was burning, and she had a good idea as to who was responsible. Following this there was a curse even louder than before. Before she knew it, clouds of black smoke were billowing out of the back room. She rolled her eyes and got to her feet, and as if he sensed her approaching there came the sudden yell, “It’s okay! Don’t came back here, Mai! Nothing to worry about!”
Moments later, Zuko emerged with a blackened tray that had neat little rows of ash piles laid out on it. He looked very disgruntled, a large frown on his face. His robes and face were black and little tendrils of smoke trailed out from his partially-lit sleeves. “I tried to make you some cookies,” he said. “Aang gave me the recipe and I thought I’d try it out.”
She looked to the tray, then back up at him. She was reminded of the time he’d dropped the snow-cone in her lap on the beach, but she felt it better not to make him feel any worse than he did. It was actually really sweet, his attempt, despite his having made her sit around for an hour.
She walked up to him and smiled, wiping some of the soot from his face. Soon the tray lay forgotten on a table and the two of them were making love behind the counter in the back. Screw cookies when you had a great husband.
It was when a whole hour had passed that her boredom grew to intolerable levels. The tea shop was now completely empty, Iroh having closed up twenty minutes prior, and she was left alone in the quiet of the spacious room. Noises had been coming from the kitchen for the last half an hour, the clattering of pans and other kitchen appliances, along with the occasional curse from her husband.
Honestly, she had no idea what he was doing back there. He’d given no hint when he’d sat her down and told her not to move. The only thing she could think of was that he was trying to make her some tea, but it made no sense, really. He may not have inherited the tea-making skills his Uncle had, but he had learned to make a decent cup in the last year. It never took an hour to make tea.
She was just about to get up and go see what he was doing, when a strange smell suddenly hit her. Something was burning, and she had a good idea as to who was responsible. Following this there was a curse even louder than before. Before she knew it, clouds of black smoke were billowing out of the back room. She rolled her eyes and got to her feet, and as if he sensed her approaching there came the sudden yell, “It’s okay! Don’t came back here, Mai! Nothing to worry about!”
Moments later, Zuko emerged with a blackened tray that had neat little rows of ash piles laid out on it. He looked very disgruntled, a large frown on his face. His robes and face were black and little tendrils of smoke trailed out from his partially-lit sleeves. “I tried to make you some cookies,” he said. “Aang gave me the recipe and I thought I’d try it out.”
She looked to the tray, then back up at him. She was reminded of the time he’d dropped the snow-cone in her lap on the beach, but she felt it better not to make him feel any worse than he did. It was actually really sweet, his attempt, despite his having made her sit around for an hour.
She walked up to him and smiled, wiping some of the soot from his face. Soon the tray lay forgotten on a table and the two of them were making love behind the counter in the back. Screw cookies when you had a great husband.