Baking was a delicate art, and sweets were not necessarily Aurelie's forte. It wasn't often that her day-to-day cooking duties required it, and she tended to make more savory main dishes and side courses. Her snacks were usually salty rather than sweet, as well. So baking, with all the ingredients that needed to be weighed and measured, the prep time, the rising and falling of dough-- she had less experience with these. The cinnamon buns, then, were an experiment, as well as a point of pride. Bernadette had bet her that hers were far, far better than anything Aurelie could ever make some months back, and it had pricked at her ever since. While she would be the first to admit Bernadette was no shoddy baker, to say that Aurelie could never match her in skill... Well, that just couldn't be let stand.

Now they were on baking duty together, and all these old feelings of rivalry had come whooshing to the surface. They'd raced about, looking for the best and most original ingredients for their pastries, all the while trying to dodge notice of the matrons who most assuredly would not approve of any deviations from the standard. Bernadette was one of the few other passives she knew who really loved to cook as much as Aurelie did, and so while this meant they could never truly hate each other, it also ensured that they would be locked in eternal rivalry forever. It certainly made dull baking duty more interesting.

As she slid the last of her trays into the oven, she let herself feel a small swelling of accomplishment. She'd practiced, in secret, during her break hours. The first few batches had been, if not utter failures, then certainly not the sort of successes she would need to make Bernie eat her words. The icing, she hoped, would be the proof of it. While she waited for the buns to bake, she set about starting the cream cheese glaze she'd be using. Nothing, and she meant nothing, would get in the way of her making these.

Dishes. Dishes, dishes, dishes, dishes, dishes. That was just about all Joseph was able to see due to the large stacks he carried; all three of them balanced on a wide silver tray. Having been ordered to carry a large load of dishes to the kitchen for cleaning, Joseph decided he’d rather have it all done in one fell swoop. If there was anything he was more allergic to than servant work, it was making more than one trip to fetch something when it could be tackled in one fell swoop. As a servant, Joseph had few redeeming qualities for the intentionally poor work he did, but he did have an excellent sense of balance.

Arriving at the kitchen with his ponderous load, the plates and silver tray were dumped unceremoniously into the massive wash basin without much thought by the dark-haired passive. However, he listened carefully for the breaking of carelessly handled dishes. Drat, not a single crack to be heard.

He sighed to himself under the noise of the typically busy room. But there was something else present other than the noise of the kitchen. An interesting smell permeated the air above the clingy reek of soap against the insides of his nose. Like a sweet burning something coated in syrup and dipped in a spice that made his stomach feel more hollow than usual.

On impulse, Joseph turned about and tapped a smaller passive girl on the head, making her look up through her giant glasses at him. He barely noted nor cared how her little eyes grew wide, and he asked his question in typical commanding tone.

“What is that smell?”

The girl seemed to chew on the corner of her cheek before answering. “Food or soap?”

Joseph paused a moment, eyes squinched down at her, like he was asking her if she thought him stupid. “Ah…. Well…. Food.”

"Cinnamon buns, Joseph."

Aurelie was just close enough to Jo and the girl in glasses to answer his query, though it was a bit like eavesdropping considering neither question nor answer was actually directed at her. She smiled, a bit tenatively. He had very nearly broken dishes, and while she could mildly approve of other forms of deliberate incompetence, she drew the line when it actually affected her job in particular. It was a wonder he got put on washing-up duty at all, the way he went about making a mess of everything on purpose. She was quite certain every Patron and Matron was fully aware of this, and yet they persisted.

She tilted her head, contemplating. Jo, she reasoned, might make a very excellent guinea pig for the recipe. She usually volunteered Triston for the job, but, well... Needless to say, that option was rather ruled out for the moment. She needed a living, breathing, eating person to inflict her cinnamon buns on, and Jo. Well, he certainly was standing there.

"I made them." Hopefully, he was hungry enough to want one.

Joseph certainly thought it was nice that he didn't call him Joe. Joseph hated being called Joe. He'd take some of the most cursed insults over Joe. It was Joseph or nothing at all. Carefully, Joseph rubbed the scar over his lip. Unconscious habit he had when facing choices.

“Cinnamon?” he echoed. Blinking those icy eyes he studied, over Auralie’s shoulder, where the smell was quite possibly coming from. The oven. Joseph walked past her and tapped his way over to the oven. Leaning down, he peered inside. Those were, indeed, cinnamon buns. Not that Joseph had a strong grasp of such things of baking. He’d never cooked before, really. But a tiny five year old memory in the little tiny back of his mind suddenly made him much shorter. He found himself peering into the window of the oven from a much shorter vantage point, his fists consuming voluminous folds of human skirts as he blinked those same eyes at cinnamon buns. Nanny Julia had always been baking.

“They…look…nice.” He finally commented, though his voice sounded flat and cold. With a harder blink and a straightening of the spine, he looked back at Auralie and his customary voice returned to him. “What have you been ordered to waste them on, might I ask?” he inquired wryly.

A dismissive wave of her hands followed. "Oh, faculty meeting for some department or other." Of course it was for the galdori. Waste indeed-- she was fairly certain none of them would notice or care that their meeting-time snacks were different from what they usually got at breakfast. Even if they did, would any of them really care? Of course not. Unless perhaps one of them took it upon their noble self to complain to the Matron about it.

Jo had always been the strange sort, Aura mused. Not entirely pleasant, Mr. Abernathy, but she'd known him a very long time. Known all of them, really. More family than family, those thousand some-odd passives who lived and worked in Brunnhold's walls. Even the ones she didn't like.

"Would you like one?" Partially, of course, Aurelie just wanted someone to test them out on with less critical tastes than herself. A larger part of it, though, was easily the particular way Jo had looked when peering into the oven. "They'll be ready soon." If she was at all nervous about having someone else try a recipe she herself was not sure of, someone with a temperament less sweet than Triston's, she did her best to bury it.

Try one? Joseph's mouth watered like a bander wolf tempted with a fresh rabbit and his gut growled in response. It was such a typical male response, really, to food. His breakfast had been rather scanty that morning; lunch had been a similar affair and dinner. He hadn't had dinner yet, in fact.

And partaking in something meant only for meeting galdori was tempting. It was nearly sanctioned stealing.

"I'd love one," he heard himself saying, though his voice was as far away as his mind. Joseph blinked back to the present, his countenance momentarily softening, as though he couldn't recall the last time he'd been offered something other than a beating. Which, he was fine with, but it was odd.

He frowned. "I mean.... Yes."

Almost a smile escaped her, but she caught it just in time. Jo, she reasoned, wasn't the sort who really wanted Aurelie smiling at him. Certainly not because she thought it was funny how much sway food held over people, all people. Regardless of any other features of their personality or lifestyle, everyone had to eat. To eat and enjoy it might be different, but most people usually did.

"Good." Here she did smile. Ten years now, and it never stopped giving her that little glow of satisfaction. Oh, if only-- Her thoughts were abruptly cut off. No spun-sugar daydreams of cafes with rose trellises creeping up the side, not for her. She tried to keep them under control as best they could, focus on the present and attainable. Like taking these buns out of the oven.

Aurelie leaned over and opened the oven door. Yes, they did look just about ready to be iced and inflicted on unsuspecting Abernathy. Wrapping her hand in the towel from her apron pocket, she realized with dismay that she could not, in fact, safely remove the trays one-handed. Tocks.

"Joseph," she said without straightening her back, "could you hand me a towel or a cloth? I need to wrap my hands..."

"Towel?" What were those things, anyhow? Did they look like anything he was currently focused on right now? No, probably not. Towels did not look like Aura's skirted end. It wasn't his fault, really. Most people were inclined to look straight at whatever was immediately put forth right in front of them. Completely natural reaction.

But, on to the business tasked to him. Towels? Rags? Cloths. Something to wrap the hand in to...prevent burning? He suspected so. No one had ever been mad enough yet to commission him into cooking, even if they'd been mad enough to lock him up in this place, so he was rusty on the terms of the kitchen. Joseph snagged a cup towel from another passing servant ("Thank you, very much. Oh stop looking angry. You can find another.") and did his best to pass it to her, positioned as she was, without making himself think any more thoughts of skirted ends.

He did still feel a bit off-kilter for it, though.