(Hope he likes rave music. Because that's what's going on. Electronic dance remixes, because, of course, it is. Once that's done, she puts her phone aside and takes a little look over Julian's shoulder, setting her chin on it as she reads.)
Yeah? I'm the one who runs groceries, I basically raid everywhere's kitchen.
( or close enough. sophie leans on him, but his attention stays down on the cookbook itself. green telekinetic energy opens cabinets, sifts through boxes, bags, whatever looking for the ingredients listed. the fridge opens, and out comes the milk bottle and a couple eggs, which get gently set down on the counter beside the sink. measuring cups are removed from another drawer, as well as a large mixing bowl until they've got everything they need out.
(Simpleton, it does not. Bubbles, Jules, bubbles. Sweet. Bitter. Hello.
She'll let him do his thing, her own TK bringing keeping the fridge open so she can get the champagne from it and float it to Jules to take care as she jumps off the counter. She has no idea where they are, but she'll totally pretend she does.)
Somewhere.
(Nailed it. She's opening all the drawers at once for a lookover.
( champagne bottle for him it is. julian takes it in hand and just - yanks the top out. normal human limitations of strength don't apply to him, he's not hurting his fingers any, may as well pop it out himself.
with the lid removed, he takes a drink from the bottle itself because - why not. )
(Honestly, it is a little bit of a rave? A pink-green rave, but that's still cool. The pop startles her, she wasn't expecting it at that exact time, but then she looks at him and... Okay, fuck glasses, she can get behind that.
She's back only to take the bottle back for her own swing, a small hop of delight from her before she gives it back and checks all the ingredients.)
Mum would have a heart attack if she saw that.
(Her drinking from the bottle. It's always expensive tall glasses with her and the Cuckoos โ hence why she will do it again.)
What she doesn't know won't hurt her. ( well. ) Probably. If she wants to bitch over it, she can always show up.
( please don't actually, emma, because julian doesn't want to deal with that on top of everything else. sophie gives in to peer pressure and also decides, fuck fancy glasses, and julian's mouth spreads into a grin. )
We got all the crap out. Now it's just shove it all into a bowl and mix it, right?
(She's who she is, literally, thanks to Emma. Genetics, power, a lot of her morals, personality, and insecurities? Emma. She taught the Cuckoos everything they know. It's not like Sophie doesn't like Emma, you know. It's just... She wants to be better. Avoid falling into the same traps, the same shit.
It'd get exceedingly difficult to do that when she's the only one here, and would be on a 'but she needs me' mindset.
... Guess he's right on how to proceed, because she's literally about to do all that, but like, zero measuring. She's following her heart.)
Let me see. I texted you because I was bored out of my mind, and then you asked me about men, and then you said 'why don't you try cooking?', and now we get to regret it together. Hopefully, drunk, so chop chop.
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julian slides himself up onto the counter and takes the cookbook. flips through the pages a bit until he finds whatever's labeled cake. )
Preheat the oven to 350. ( he says, but the oven's dial is turning itself as he voices the instruction. he's got this from the counter, thanks. )
We need AP Flour, white sugar, unsweetend cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, kosher salt, espresso powder - do we even have half this crap?
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Yeah? I'm the one who runs groceries, I basically raid everywhere's kitchen.
...
Hellion, wine or bubbly?
no subject
( or close enough. sophie leans on him, but his attention stays down on the cookbook itself. green telekinetic energy opens cabinets, sifts through boxes, bags, whatever looking for the ingredients listed. the fridge opens, and out comes the milk bottle and a couple eggs, which get gently set down on the counter beside the sink. measuring cups are removed from another drawer, as well as a large mixing bowl until they've got everything they need out.
probably. )
Do you know where the whisks are?
no subject
She'll let him do his thing, her own TK bringing keeping the fridge open so she can get the champagne from it and float it to Jules to take care as she jumps off the counter. She has no idea where they are, but she'll totally pretend she does.)
Somewhere.
(Nailed it. She's opening all the drawers at once for a lookover.
She has no idea.)
... Nope.
no subject
( champagne bottle for him it is. julian takes it in hand and just - yanks the top out. normal human limitations of strength don't apply to him, he's not hurting his fingers any, may as well pop it out himself.
with the lid removed, he takes a drink from the bottle itself because - why not. )
no subject
She's back only to take the bottle back for her own swing, a small hop of delight from her before she gives it back and checks all the ingredients.)
Mum would have a heart attack if she saw that.
(Her drinking from the bottle. It's always expensive tall glasses with her and the Cuckoos โ hence why she will do it again.)
Okay. Ready?
no subject
( please don't actually, emma, because julian doesn't want to deal with that on top of everything else. sophie gives in to peer pressure and also decides, fuck fancy glasses, and julian's mouth spreads into a grin. )
We got all the crap out. Now it's just shove it all into a bowl and mix it, right?
( and, well. ) Why are we doing this again?
no subject
(She's who she is, literally, thanks to Emma. Genetics, power, a lot of her morals, personality, and insecurities? Emma. She taught the Cuckoos everything they know. It's not like Sophie doesn't like Emma, you know. It's just... She wants to be better. Avoid falling into the same traps, the same shit.
It'd get exceedingly difficult to do that when she's the only one here, and would be on a 'but she needs me' mindset.
... Guess he's right on how to proceed, because she's literally about to do all that, but like, zero measuring. She's following her heart.)
Let me see. I texted you because I was bored out of my mind, and then you asked me about men, and then you said 'why don't you try cooking?', and now we get to regret it together. Hopefully, drunk, so chop chop.