Like magic, at the word 'cake,' Wensley walked out of the kitchens, carefully carrying his masterpiece across the bar while gripping a knife between his teeth. He had spent the better half of the day baking and decorating his friend's birthday cake, and Wensley was damned if anything was going to happen to it now.
Placing her* on a nearby table, he extracted the knife from between his teeth, wiping it on a dishrag. "Happy Birthday, Adam!" he cried, offering him both the knife and the dishrag at seeing his sopping face. "D'you want to do the honours?"
*Around the third hour of being in the kitchen, he had fondly started calling the cake 'Lucy.' In the future, Wensley would pass it off as dementia brought on by the heat, though he knew he was really just being a sentimental bastard.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-08-28 10:53 pm (UTC)Placing her* on a nearby table, he extracted the knife from between his teeth, wiping it on a dishrag. "Happy Birthday, Adam!" he cried, offering him both the knife and the dishrag at seeing his sopping face. "D'you want to do the honours?"
*Around the third hour of being in the kitchen, he had fondly started calling the cake 'Lucy.' In the future, Wensley would pass it off as dementia brought on by the heat, though he knew he was really just being a sentimental bastard.