meet me where the falling stars live
I will wait for you day and night
Amalia is, unsurprisingly, not in the greatest mood.She's always known the bakery like the back of her hand, been able to navigate it in her sleep. Here is a corner, here is a shelf, here is where she keeps this spice, here is the drawer that holds her pans. Everything accessible, everything in reach.
Except that now, everything is so damn high.
She's ready to scream with frustration by the time Sunjata walks in. She'd wanted to make something comforting and familiar for her first day back, something quick and easy, but nothing is easy anymore. What should have been a twenty minute batch of scones has taken her thirty minutes to simply assemble the ingredients for, because of course countless of them are now out of her reach, and she has to use a system of shifting and long sticks to get them all onto the countertop. Which, she has just discovered, is too high for her to properly knead on.
So now her lap is piled precariously with flour and bowls and spices, ready to be transported to the small table in the corner. It is in this state that Sunjata finds her, a string of "Sweet blood of Mort!" pealing from her lips as her mixing spoon clatters to the floor, and a small whale tittering worriedly by her head. Glancing up at the (incredibly) tall man, Amalia blinks a moment. "Ah, I'm sorry- I don't have anything made yet. Did you want to make an order? There's about a one in ten chance I can get it done by tomorrow." If she's being generous, that is.
Amalia
