The Basement VII

Mike wasn't remotely adverse to chocolate cake, but it seemed a shame to be the one to cut it. Not that his hands weren't pretty careful - any big guy quickly learnt that if he wasn't careful, he'd end up falling over himself. It was just that it was really, really nice looking.

The decorations were really damn pretty.

"Baker cuts the first slice," the Athlete said firmly, before glancing at Daysha and shrugging. His bloodshot eyes and tense posture screamed a thousand words.

"I'm not too bad. Still waiting for the kid to call. Which pretty much figures. How're you?"

At Daysha's joke, Harlowe snorted and shook her head. "A healthy chocolate'd taste like shit," she pointed out. And frankly, with how much she worked out, eating a slice too much was not exactly something she had to worry about. If it was, her life would practically be stress-free. And somehow, she doubted that the detective needed to worry about calories much either.

"Ain't an occasion for it though. Felt like being artistic, had a few ingredients lying around," Harlowe shrugged mildly. "It's a decent enough distraction."

She brandished the knife expertly, and sliced the cake. It was quite clear from her handling, even in the midst of doing something so mundane as cutting up a cake that it was a weapon she was used to.

It didn’t surprise the Detective that this was just a weird conicedence. She rarely celebrated her birthday anymore. Well, other than family. She remembered the days where she’d go out and do shots all night… but that was long ago and far away.

“Seeing your kids Ryan? That’s pretty great.” Daysha still remained upbeat despite that this wasn’t planned.

She held no qualms about Sara cut the cake. Wasn’t her decision as it was. “Such a shame to cut such a masterpiece.” She chuckled in a short blurb. "Find out anything else about that Mike?"

“Distraction from what Harlowe?” Daysha asked casually, although she could probably guess the answer.

Ryan smiled at Daysha's reply, then chomped at the end of his slice of pizza before closed the box so the rest didn't get cold. He was going to make sure to get in on that cake; as nice as a pizza pie was, homemade cake was a trump card.

Anyone who thought otherwise was wrong.

Standing up, Doc Marcus headed over to the cupboards. He washed his hands quickly, using some paper towel to dry off before grabbing forks and plates for the cake. He remained quiet as the others chatted; he was pretty preoccupied with the concept of food right now. Plates and forks were stacked neatly nearby for Sara's use.

Mike shook his head, glancing up at Daysha from the delicious baked treat that was currently permeating the Basement with the most wonderful scents he'd ever had the pleasure to experience. At least, in a long time. It made him think of being a kid, and watching his grandmother at work in the kitchen.

He missed her, sometimes.

"Just waiting for the call. Who knows what'll happen? No more mysterious fires though, which has got to be a good thing. Damn, I don't know... maybe the kid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time after all,"the huge Athlete shrugged after a moment. "Maybe just a coincidence. Maybe not. Sometimes this game is a waiting game."

Harlowe speared some of the cake with a fork, and idly gestured with it to Mike as he effectively answered Daysha's question for her.

"That," she stated bluntly. "If y'stand starin' at the phone waitin' for a call, you're gonna go fuckin' insane."

Which was rich, coming from someone who routinely had appointments with a shrink.

Fuck, I need to reschedule next week.

"This made a pretty damned good distraction." And her hobbies were few and far between.

The Detective shook her head after Mike's frustration. She'd been there plenty times before. "It's the waiting that sucks ass." Tapping the table then pointing to the air. "No news is good news though, right?"

"Maybe we should all take a cooking class if it's doing this good for you Harlowe."

"Or cake decorating." Daysha really couldn't help but oggle the cake, it was fucking amazing.

Ryan nodded understandingly to Mike's words. Could it be that the kid wasn't responsible, if there were no more fires? That was a relief of sorts... but if not the kid, then what was?

New questions, always, on the Vigil.

The Doc grinned at the chatting about cooking. "Hell, I'd take a class just to be able to cook and bake like that for sustenance, much less a distraction," he said with a chuckle as he nodded toward the cake. Ryan Marcus was many things, but a manly gourmet American Bachelor Chef he was not.

It seemed Ryan was not very chatty on the Hunter front tonight. A little mental break to enjoy a cake with friends... such as it were.

"Sounds like an excuse to put on a couple of pounds, and then spend the rest of your life in the gym," Mike said, a man who lived his life perpetually in the gym or on the couch.

Or passed out drunk.

It was slowly occurring to him that he lived an oddly monotonous life for a man who almost got eaten quite a lot. He dived into his cake slice.

"Oh my God, this is..."

Harlowe looked pretty damn relieved that the cake was going down a treat; even if she was being entirely too critical of herself. But then, she was a woman who would always find fault in her own capabilities, and work to surpass them. Even if it was just a cake.

"Y'think my teaching skills would be up to scratch?" she shot back, but sounded a little amused. "I'm a hard taskmaster," Harlowe warned.