Bunny gives him a blob of sourdough starter. Jack calls it Steve. Steve the Sourdough Starter. He also gives him vague instructions for a bread recipe that Jack hurriedly scribbles on the back of a receipt. On paper—pun definitely intended, the recipe steps are very simple. In reality, the whole thing requires some flavor of technique Jack hasn't quite mastered yet. Steve is fed and ready to be bitch slapped into shape, but he can't figure out what comes next.
On another piece of paper, he tries to figure out in which order he should do each prepping step. And also math how much waiting time each step will require. It's not going well. He groans, reaching for his phone so he can request Bunny's assistance.
But then Elsa comes back inside and he quickly cancels the call before it can even connect.
"I have a gift for you," the woman says, a basket full of vegetables held against her hip. She puts it on the floor and tosses him a red ripe tomato.
"Aw, thanks, lady." He winks. "I have a pretty great family recipe for marinara sauce."
"Cool," she mumbles, articulating the word slowly like she's a preteen cussing in front of adults for the first time and awkwardly looks away.
"Perfect timing, actually." He slides Steve's jar over the counter. "How do you feel about sourdough?"
She seems to hesitate for a second but then picks the starter up and rotates it in her hands. "Delicious bread. Goes great with butter or olive oil. Why?"
"Wanna help me figure out this recipe? I'll give you a loaf if it works."
She hums, pulling the two pieces of paper closer to analyze Jack's chicken scratches. The focused expression on her face makes him a little self-conscious the longer she keeps staring at all those floating half-sentences.
"Alright," she says at last and goes to the sink to wash her hands. "But if it works, I want some of your starter for myself."
Jack gasps, a hand over his heart, shocked. "You wanna share custody of little Steve?"
"Who's Steve?"
He simply points at the jar still in her hands.
"You named—never mind." She rolls her eyes, but the hint of a smile is there. "Do we have a deal or not?"
"Poor Stevie." Jack sighs. "These are the sort of things that can traumatize a little one for life, you know?"
"I promise to be a good guardian." She puts on her apron, adjusts its straps, and then smooths her bouncy little ponytail neatly. Looking at him from over her shoulder, she asks, "He'll have plenty of screen time, a cozy bed, and all the organic flour he can eat. How's that?"
He smirks with his chin in one hand. "How could anyone say no to that?"