After successfully drugging Relena to sleep (its only aspirin! Don't
freak!), Quatre was feeling a little weary. He thought of the events that
had occurred this morning. Suddenly he remembered that he had given up his
kitchen to the two "wild" girls Relena had ranted about. Feeling a little
queasy, and like he was about lose his nice kitchen in a grand-scale
explosion any second now, Quatre scurried off toward the kitchen.
A moment later, Quatre peeked in the door leading to the kitchens. Sighing in relief that it was still there, and not a charred pit with a blown out ceiling, he paused to watch the girl wearing a cherry-print sundress, which was covered in flour and other powdery substances, pound a lump of dough hard enough to hurt. He watched for a moment or two longer, before quietly knocking on the doorframe to announce his presence. She looked up from her vigorous kneading, and smiled in return to his open and welcoming grin.
"Come on in," was all she said, before turning back to her dough.
He walked over to the counter, and watched her, up close this time, mash the sticky mound, then stretch it out, and roll it back up, then pound it again.
"What are you making?" he inquired.
"A pie," was all she said in return.
He smiled when she stuck out her tongue, while obviously concentrating very hard on her pie making.
"Would you like my help?"
She looked up suddenly, then looked as though she was pondering the idea. Suddenly, she smiled and simply nodded.
"I would like that."
He nodded in return, and looked around as if to find something to do. He went to the sink to wash his hands and roll up his sleeves, after she had pointed out that there were still some strawberries and other assorted fruits that needed to be cleaned and cut. This time, it was her watching him, as he thoroughly washed and sliced up the fruits. As he began to hum a small tune, she turned back to her dough, smiling. A while later, he had finished his chore, and was currently looking for another way to help out. After taking some instructions, he went over to check the oven.
"Is 375° ok?"
"That's great!"
Quatre closed the oven back up, and walked over to the cabinets, in search of a pie pan. Finding one, he brought it and the basket of diced fruits, over to where Ariana was currently rolling out the mashed dough. Then he helped her lift the crust into the pie pan. Both sneezed, then laughed as a billowy cloud of flour covered everything, after she patted down the crust.
"Sorry about that," she said as she tried to swat away some of the flour that had collected on Quatre's purple vest.
"It's no problem," he said and just shrugged off the now white vest.
He then began to place the fruits into the pie shell they had made, while she stirred the glaze.
"Um, sorry, but I must of never, um, caught your name." she asked shyly.
"It's Quatre. Quatre Rebarbra Winner."
"Oh! You're the one Miss Dorothy talks about!"
Quatre looked a little queasy. "Uh, yes, I guess so." She smiled.
"I take it that you're not so fond of Miss Dorothy."
Quatre began to look uneasy and flustered.
"Oh! No! It's nothing like that, I mean it's just that… oh, no, well I um, don't really, you know, uh.."
"It's okay. Not many people like her," she said matter-o-factly.
"Oh no! It's not that I hate her… it's just that I don't um, like her…" he stated, as he pulled off an even bigger flustered blush.
"You're intimidated by her, aren't you?"
"NO!" he yelled indignantly, "She's just, well, she's very…" Quatre flushed.
"Intimidating?" smirked Ariana.
"No. Just quite…" he stuttered, still not finding the right words.
"Determined?" she questioned mockingly.
"Yes, that's it. Determined." He let out a long breathy sigh, finally ending his long run of stupidity.
"That's just another way of saying intimidating." Ariana teased.
Quatre blushed, ever so cutely, again. He laughed, then admitted,
"Yes I guess, I guess, it is."
Ariana smiled triumphantly. Then, quickly glazing up the pie, and the two began to make the top layer of the pie. After finishing crimping all the edges, together they carried the pie over the oven. When the pie had made it safely into the oven and the timer had been set, Ariana leaned up against the counter and looked at Quatre with a small questioning smile.
"So those rumors about you and Miss Dorothy…?"
Quatre sputtered and turned bright red, but before he could deny the utterly outrageous ideas that Dorothy must have said about them, Ariana cut him off, laughingly.
"Don't worry, Quatre. She hasn't said anything to anyone about the two of you. Frankly, she thinks that she's the only one who knows about her obvious crush-crush for you."
Quatre's shoulders sagged with a relieved sigh. Then he looked back up at her.
"You know, I still don't know your name."
Ariana blushed, and quickly stated,
"Ariana. Ariana Gylgayton if you want to get technical."
A moment later, Quatre peeked in the door leading to the kitchens. Sighing in relief that it was still there, and not a charred pit with a blown out ceiling, he paused to watch the girl wearing a cherry-print sundress, which was covered in flour and other powdery substances, pound a lump of dough hard enough to hurt. He watched for a moment or two longer, before quietly knocking on the doorframe to announce his presence. She looked up from her vigorous kneading, and smiled in return to his open and welcoming grin.
"Come on in," was all she said, before turning back to her dough.
He walked over to the counter, and watched her, up close this time, mash the sticky mound, then stretch it out, and roll it back up, then pound it again.
"What are you making?" he inquired.
"A pie," was all she said in return.
He smiled when she stuck out her tongue, while obviously concentrating very hard on her pie making.
"Would you like my help?"
She looked up suddenly, then looked as though she was pondering the idea. Suddenly, she smiled and simply nodded.
"I would like that."
He nodded in return, and looked around as if to find something to do. He went to the sink to wash his hands and roll up his sleeves, after she had pointed out that there were still some strawberries and other assorted fruits that needed to be cleaned and cut. This time, it was her watching him, as he thoroughly washed and sliced up the fruits. As he began to hum a small tune, she turned back to her dough, smiling. A while later, he had finished his chore, and was currently looking for another way to help out. After taking some instructions, he went over to check the oven.
"Is 375° ok?"
"That's great!"
Quatre closed the oven back up, and walked over to the cabinets, in search of a pie pan. Finding one, he brought it and the basket of diced fruits, over to where Ariana was currently rolling out the mashed dough. Then he helped her lift the crust into the pie pan. Both sneezed, then laughed as a billowy cloud of flour covered everything, after she patted down the crust.
"Sorry about that," she said as she tried to swat away some of the flour that had collected on Quatre's purple vest.
"It's no problem," he said and just shrugged off the now white vest.
He then began to place the fruits into the pie shell they had made, while she stirred the glaze.
"Um, sorry, but I must of never, um, caught your name." she asked shyly.
"It's Quatre. Quatre Rebarbra Winner."
"Oh! You're the one Miss Dorothy talks about!"
Quatre looked a little queasy. "Uh, yes, I guess so." She smiled.
"I take it that you're not so fond of Miss Dorothy."
Quatre began to look uneasy and flustered.
"Oh! No! It's nothing like that, I mean it's just that… oh, no, well I um, don't really, you know, uh.."
"It's okay. Not many people like her," she said matter-o-factly.
"Oh no! It's not that I hate her… it's just that I don't um, like her…" he stated, as he pulled off an even bigger flustered blush.
"You're intimidated by her, aren't you?"
"NO!" he yelled indignantly, "She's just, well, she's very…" Quatre flushed.
"Intimidating?" smirked Ariana.
"No. Just quite…" he stuttered, still not finding the right words.
"Determined?" she questioned mockingly.
"Yes, that's it. Determined." He let out a long breathy sigh, finally ending his long run of stupidity.
"That's just another way of saying intimidating." Ariana teased.
Quatre blushed, ever so cutely, again. He laughed, then admitted,
"Yes I guess, I guess, it is."
Ariana smiled triumphantly. Then, quickly glazing up the pie, and the two began to make the top layer of the pie. After finishing crimping all the edges, together they carried the pie over the oven. When the pie had made it safely into the oven and the timer had been set, Ariana leaned up against the counter and looked at Quatre with a small questioning smile.
"So those rumors about you and Miss Dorothy…?"
Quatre sputtered and turned bright red, but before he could deny the utterly outrageous ideas that Dorothy must have said about them, Ariana cut him off, laughingly.
"Don't worry, Quatre. She hasn't said anything to anyone about the two of you. Frankly, she thinks that she's the only one who knows about her obvious crush-crush for you."
Quatre's shoulders sagged with a relieved sigh. Then he looked back up at her.
"You know, I still don't know your name."
Ariana blushed, and quickly stated,
"Ariana. Ariana Gylgayton if you want to get technical."