How anyone could possibly be this charming without even trying was more than Caradoc could comprehend. He listened to her babble with rapt attention, every rambling a word a treasure that he wanted to pocket forever. She seemed to fill the whole room, the whole world, with the silly magic of fairy tales and wishes.
Caradoc was half-certain he would die when he kissed her. No one could survive that much perfection.
Caradoc listened and talked as he grabbed a pre-made pie crust from one of the cupboards– this was hardly his first kitchen rodeo, after all. “I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman right now, but all I can think about is jokes about my crown jewels needing polished,” he said, shooting her a grin. He started layering in the pumpkin pie filling. “Oh, the Warrior Princess, huh? Of course she was the start of our grand adventure. And for the record, I’m pretty sure there are people in at least half of the suits of armor. The real question is– are they on the side of the heroes or villains? I can’t decide which would be better; having them as a sidekick, or getting to kick their asses.”
He looked around as she whispered the warning about the House Elf, tense seriousness in his movements and eyes wide. After all, what was the point in creating drama if you didn’t live out every moment of it? And there was something so delicious about getting caught up in it, caught up in her.
“I’m on it,” he stage-whispered across the island, carrying the pie over to the oven. “I just need to initiate the heating process, and then we’ll be ready for Phase Whipped Cream.” He tilted his head towards one of the cabinets beside her. “Are you up for a most important and possibly deadly mission? I need the red and white bottle from that cabinet, but you must resist the temptation to sample its contents, or else something very bad will happen.”
There was just something incredibly attractive about a person who could bake a pumpkin pie on a whim... Maybe it was the implication that they would have the culinary skills to keep you well nourished when you were lacking in said department. But that they also had the quick wits and creativity to make a meal out of whatever should you inevitably end up on a deserted island with no frying pan. Mary had the creativity, sure-- it was more the 'culinary skill' area she found herself lacking in.
She laughed, loud and guffawing as he shot her that grin and watched eagerly as he continued on with the pie. She looked thoughtful at his comment before chiming in.
“Okay, good point as per. And thank you, I'm glad I'm not the only one. First of all, very hard to tell given their stoic, unwavering expressions or lack of. You'd never know what they were thinking which would make them the perfect assassins if their suits weren’t so clunky. So pros for being the good guys: stoic, tough as metal nails, probably know everything there is to know given people pay them no attention when they're going about their top secret business. Cons: the clunky metal attire. But on the other hand we have the pros for them being bad guys: yes, totally the time of our lives kicking their asses. The puns, of course. The cons really boil down to the fact that if you stub your toe on them while in battle, it's gonna hurt like a bitch,” she concluded tapping the final finger to finish her points.
Mary's grin brightened as he turned suddenly tense and serious, eyes wide and she quickly rearranged her features to match. Her brow furrowed as she nodded to his Plan, her eyes following to the cabinet beside her and she met his eye once more. She shook her head a little, eyes wide, lips pursed before she let out a breath.
“Okay, okay I can do this,” she touched her fingertip to her ear as if they were on comms together, “I'm headed towards the package-- no wait, that's almost as bad as crown jewels. I'm going in. The locking system seems to have been successful disabled... I have the target in sight, I sure as hell hope you got the lasers disabled before we got here or we're gonna be having some words once we're back at HQ. And-- Got it! The asset is secured,” she chimed, jumping back up with the can of whipped cream in hand. But then suddenly she stopped, her hand gripped around the can and her eyes once again wide while the room filled with faux tension. The viewers on the edge of their seats.
“I remember... I remember what the contents taste like...,” she looked panicked, shaking her head again, “The sugary, soft, creamy... The scooshy sound... I- I don't know if I can do this. I don't--,” and then before she could stop herself she'd pointed the can towards Caradoc and swiftly and rather successfully drew a curly whipped cream mustache on his face.
“Phew okay. Crisis averted.”
