8650/Milk and Cookies

Milk and Cookies
Date of Scene:	04 August 2019
Location:	NYC
Synopsis:	Felicia and Caitlin show up at a bake sale; Caitlin claims victory.
Cast of Characters:	Black Cat, Fairchild

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Black Cat has posed:
One of the many community centers, small as it is, is hosting a bake sale in order to raise funds for families affected negatively by the Sentinels. This includes both mutant-kind and non-mutants alike, given this location caters to both rather than having either exclusivity. Already, tables are burgeoning with offerings and little placards beside each plating dictate pricing for pieces, slices, or whole baked goods.

The cake contest is due to start soon enough and Felicia arrives with her own offerings: a tray of lemon bars and her family's angelfood cake recipe. Light, fluffy, delicately decorated, she fully intends to make a showing here today while doing some good for the community.

Well, no, it's more just to make a showing. The trophy's a chintzy little thing, but man, rubbing the win in Mrs. Karen Charleston's face would be damn worth it. Felicia's dressed in a light and airy summer dress, mint-green with white lace trimming on its hems, and wears white driving gloves to match her pristinely-white shoes. With her hair done up, she's the epitome of grace and poise...though the kohl about her eyes only accents their glimmer as she takes up her assigned space at her table. Hmm. No table-mate...yet.

Fairchild has posed:
"Right over here, Miss Fairchild," says an event aide. She waves over a towering stack of cake containers on legs bearing down on Felicia's spot. The cakeplates are set aside and a redheaded woman emerges from behind them. She's in a surprisingly modest dress, precisely the color of aubergines. It's cut quite loosely, but the shoulder-length sleeves and flowing skirt show off a musculature that is usually reserved for the cover of fitness magazines.

"Whew!" Caitlin declares. She seems more relieved to be quit of the responsibility of carrying the baked goods, rather than any effort. Noticing Felicia, Caitlin gives the white-haired woman a quizzical look followed by a beaming smile. "Hello!" she chirps, with a short, effusive wave. "Sorry to just rush up without coming over, I was running late. I'm Caitlin," she says, and offers her hand to Felicia. "Are you in the competition?"

Black Cat has posed:
That...is an act of balance most would be feign to attempt. Felicia's eyes do widen at the arrival of the other young woman to the other half of the table and she pulls her own plate of lemon bars as well as angelfood cake further to her own side as to save them from accidentally getting bumped.

She gives Caitlin's hand a surprise second's of a glance before taking it and shaking it, mindful of her strength in the process. "Nice to meet you, Caitlin, I'm Felicia. I'm in the competition, yes." She gives her own angelfood cake a simpering smile. "This is my great-grandmother's recipe, handed down through the generations. I can't wait to share it."

And by this, she means kick everyone's ass and sneer at Karen Charleston.

"I brought lemon bars too for sale. You...brought a lot. What did you bring?" Caitlin's haul is given a curious once-over yet again.

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's hand has as much give as a granite statue. But it's warm and carefully gentle, fingers curling momentarily. She bobs a nod at Felicia and the motion looks curiously like a genteel little curtsey. "Oh wow, I love lemon bars!" Caitlin declares, immediately impressed. "And old family recipes are the /best/. Everyone's grandmother makes the best desserts, I swear," she affirms.

Caitlin starts unpacking her things. Her little canvas purse contains a thermos of hot water, spare frosting, and baker's tools. Everything needed for last minute assembly of some baked goods? "I wasn't sure what the competition would be so I did a bit of everything. My almond-nut brownies," she explains, and uncovers a delectable looking stack of brownies. "Some pumpkin-chocolate-chip cookies," she adds, and starts laying out the cookies into an attractive, floral-shaped layered stack. "An 'andes mountain'," she says with a giggle, and reveals an... entirely plain-looking chocolate cake. "Oh, and my Pirouette Surprise." The last canister is opened to reveal a tall, freestanding cake that looks almost exactly like a chocolate Pirouette candy.

"I figured, go for broke, since I'm her for Sacred Heart Church. Our bake sale was cancelled, 'cause of remodelling," she says, expression wistful.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia doesn't want to be impressed -- but the platinum-blonde is impressed, so much that she leans in to peer at this freestanding cake. "Andes mountain?" she echoes, then looking at the chocolate cake. "Like the candy? Mint chocolate?" How badly she wants to reach out and touch the sumptuously-dark frosting, but that's rude...and really, it would mess up her pert little white gloves. A sniff is hazarded nonetheless, to see if her advanced senses can tell if there is any mint in the cake.

"Sorry to hear about the remodeling," she adds. "That's a bummer. But hey, you're here. By the way, the cake to beat is mine." Her red-red lips curl into a grin. "And Mrs. Charleston's cake, which is waaaaay more bland and boring. She did a pineapple upside-down cake. Who eats that." Felicia wrinkles her nose. Blech.

Fairchild has posed:
There's mint. From the smell of it, /real/ mint, too, not a faux-mint flavoring. Did Caitlin muddle the leaves herself by hand, or something? It does look completely ordinary, otherwise, especially compared to the aesthetics of her other offerings.

"Eww!" Caitlin makes a face. "Pineapples? On cake? There are *lines*, Miss Felicia," she agrees, implying said lines shouldn't be crossed.

"That's angel food cake, right? It smells divine," Caitlin promises Felicia. She works with a tidy efficiency, applying frosting to 'patch' the cake and fix any dings or dents in her offerings. "Is that your grandmother's recipe, or is it the cookies?"

Black Cat has posed:
The angel-food cake is given a distracted look, as if the thief had half-forgotten about its presence. She sighs and smiles yet again at Caitlin. "The cake is my great-grandmother's recipe. The lemon bars are something I looked up on recipes.com," she readily admits, not put out at all by this. "I figured you can't //really// mess up lemon bars. I mean, I'm sure you can, but these were easy."

She picks up a placard and borrows a Sharpie pen from a neighboring table to list a perfectly acceptable amount per lemon bar. The cake doesn't receive a placard, given it's to be submitted in the contest starting in three minutes.

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin titters. "Golly. You /say/ that," she chimes. "but trust me, it is not hard to totally ruin 'em. But they're the best cookies for summertime, if you ask me. I like to do 'em with a little lemon preserve, they jelly really nicely when they're in a fridge for a while."

She doesn't put prices up. Just a jar, decorated like a 13-year-old girls' locker. It features in prominent, curvy font: 'TIPS WELCOME'. Caitlin puts a few tens in it immediately.

"Really I'm just hoping I place okay," Caitlin admits conspiratorially. She smooths her dress out and makes sure it's draping modestly. Fingers interlace in front of her thighs. If she wasn't such a towering brick house, she'd look like she's sellign Girl Scout cookies. "I just felt so bad we couldn't have our usual bake sale."

Black Cat has posed:
"I'll be honest with you, sunshine: that cake right there," and Felicia points at the Andes mountain chocolate cake, " -- could beat out my own and I'll be happy for you. It smells divine. How about this..."

The blonde's jade-green eyes linger on Caitlin's face. "You beat me at the cake contest and I'll give you all the proceeds from my own lemon bars. It won't be much, but hey, it's going towards a good cause, right? City's messed up enough right now with the robots up in everyone's grill. A girl can't go get a pedicure without having to detour around one of the stupid things parked in the middle of a neighborhood somewhere making kids cry."

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin pinks at the pointed, challenging stare, and turns a smile down at her table. "Oh, criminey, you're just being nice," Caitlin reproaches Felicia. She laughs and brushes a few stray red hairs back from her brow with the back of a thumbnail, careful not to touch her hair with her fingertips since she's serving food.

"It's all for a good cause," Caitlin agrees. "The church talked about it too. We decided we had to do /something/ about it-- no one deserves to be hounded by giant robots. I mean, most of us. There are some of the old farts-- er, 'scuse my language-- who think that 'authority equals morality', but, they don't run the show anymore. Tell you what, when YOU win, I'll match your winnings with mine, okay?" she offers, trying to be equitable.

Black Cat has posed:
"Sure, it's a deal." Felicia gives the red-head another bright smile. This is a contest she's going to enjoy. Watching Mrs. Charleston still eat crow about her personal assumption in winning this year is going to make her day regardless of who wins now. "Oh," and she steps to one side, looking past Caitlin. "Here it goes. Time for the show."

She cuts her slices of cake for the judges when they walk by and they sample the slices. Two older women, one gentleman, they muse aloud to themselves and make notes on their sheets. Felicia just beams and even awards the gentleman with a shameless, fetching wink. He blushes just a little before the group moves on to Caitlin's side.

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin flashes a beaming smile somewhere in the megawatt range. She bounces once and waves, a tight gesture of her palm near her shoulder. "Oh hi there! Thanks so much for having me," she says. In her effusiveness, the Midwestern accent comes out a bit more noticeably. "I'm Caitlin, I came over from Sacred Heart-- Terry invited me," she clarifies. "I hope you like what I brought!"

Caitlin starts pouring little two-ounce glasses of milk for the judges as a palate clenser. Each is served up a bite of the cookies, then of the Piroette. The rich hazlenut-chocolate interior looks like she wrapped a pastry around a roll of Toblerone, though it cuts effortlessly with a pass of her baking knife.

"And the Andes Mountain surprise," Caitlin says finally, and cuts into the brown-frosted cake. Contrary to the plain exterior, the *interior* looks like a cutaway of a jawbreaker. Seven colorful layers arranged like a rainbow, with a decadent layer of white chocolate between each one. She offers a slice to each judge and sends them on their way once they're done tasting.

"Oops, cut too much. Would you like some?" she inquires of Felicia, and offers her a plate with some snacks on it and a friendly, solicitous smile.

Black Cat has posed:
The judges are eyed in turn while they sample Caitlin's fares. Felicia's mouth parts in surprise at the interior colors seen in the Andes cake and despite herself, she smirks: alright, fine, she can accept being beaten out by something that visually pleasing this time as long as it tastes good.

This time.

The judges go off to their corner to confer and compare notes. Karen Charlston across the room looks far too pleased with herself. It makes Felicia's pert nose wrinkles. "Hmm?" She glances over at Caitlin upon realizing the young woman spoke to her. "Oh...geez, twist my arm." Grabbing an extra fork, she first tries the Piroette cake. "Mmm, not bad," opines the thief before she takes a bite of the Andes cake.

Her eyes roll up into her head. "Ohmygahd, Cait." Swallowing the mouthful, Felicia then draws in the red-head's direction with her fork. "Girl, I have one word for you: food-gasm."

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's ears turn a rather salmon shade of pink and she titters, looking away in embarassment at the praise and Felicia's colorful language. "Oh gosh, it's just mint chocolate," she says after a moment, and ducks her head in a failed attempt to hide a pleased grin. "It really helps blunt all the chocolate flavor though. I mean, I think," she adds hastily, as if worried she's offended Felicia's sensibilities. "I like chocolate as much as anyone else, I just worried white *and* black all in one might be too rich. You can get away with it in brownies, but in cake it just seemed like..." Hands flop helplessly. "Y'know?"

Cait tracks Felicia's gaze, though she's discreet about it. "Uh, is she a friend of yours?" Caitlin asks, timidly gesturing in Karen's direction.

Black Cat has posed:
"If you call a backstabbing, suburban, vacuum-riding wannabe 'Perfect Patsy' a 'friend', then sure," Felicia opines without a hint of compunction. She forks up another bite of the Andes cake, having demonstrated a preference for it over the Piroette sampling. "She's substituting for something and I can't figure out what except she's not getting laid with her bad attitude." The blonde shrugs. "Anyways, she's not my problem."

Then comes the announcement of the winning cake. To no one's surprise -- well, at least to Felicia's utter lack of surprise -- the blue ribbon goes to Caitlin. Second place goes to Felicia's angel-food cake, and the pineapple upside-down cake somehow gets third place. "Told yooooooooouuuuuuu," Felicia sing-songs of the blue ribbon.

Fairchild has posed:
Felicia's casual rebuke and mention of Karen's lack of sensual fulfillment provokes another flushing reaction from the straight-laced redhead. Caitlin fusses with her area to keep it tidy, even as the rest of the crowd descends. She's sold out in pretty short order, even despite the hefty offerings she'd brought for the cause. Sure, everyone's there to donate money by buying baked goods, but Felicia and Caitlin are sold out long before everyone else.

Caitlin walks up to accept her prize, and there's a bashful amount of smiling and a modest hefting of the award-- she's sincerely trying not to make anyone feel bad, Felicia included. One of the judges seems to invite her to speak and Caitlin demures, skittering out of the welling applause to meet Felicia again over by her table. The 'Tips' jar has been seeing quite a bit of action and she peers into it to gauge how much remains. "Golly. I think I just got lucky," Caitlin assures Felicia. "I thought your angel food cake was their favorite, I think you should have gone ahead of me so they could really enjoy it without all that strong chocolate taste."

Black Cat has posed:
"Oh nah, not lucky. Like I said before: food-gasm. My angel-food cake never stood a chance. It's fine. Believe me, I'll be...you have a business card? I want to order one of those Andes cakes for myself. Well...not //all// for myself, I'll share it, but most of it's going to be mine." Caitlin gets another red-red grin.

"Besides...I'm content." Glancing around, she then leans in as she places her earnings into Caitlin's tip jar and whispers, lips close to the red-head's ear, "If I can beat out Karen Charleston with a cake I bought from a bakery over in Brooklyn, I've made my point."

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin squirms when Felicia's breath dances on her ear, but then her eyes go wide in shock at the STUNNING ADMISSION. She laughs abruptly and claps a hand over her mouth to cover it, though the sound's too late. Broad shoulders shake with the motion and she clutches her stomach with her other hand.

"You're /kidding/," she gasps in shock. "That's /awful/, the whole point is to--" she blinks. "Well, the point's to raise money, I guess," she concedes. "Still, it's not very sportsladylike," she chivvies Felicia. "Though I guess it's not a big deal in the big scheme, right?" Caitlin starts packing up her tools and things, as neatly as they'd been delivered.

"I wish I could make you something but this really was a charity thing," Caitlin apologizes. "I'm not a professional or anything, I just... I make a lot of food. For friends, a lot," she amends. "I wanted to help out." She looks at Felicia and her face twists as if distraught to decline such a polite request. "I could make you one anyway, though," she offers, timidly. "But I couldn't possibly charge you for it. I really do just make 'em for fun."

Black Cat has posed:
"I'm going to pay you regardless of whether or not you want me to, Caitlin. You put time and effort into the cake, you should get paid for it. In fact, here." Reaching to her purse, Felicia pulls out a few more bills and stuffs them into the tip jar on the red-head's side of the table. "It's for a good cause along with my taste-buds' appreciation," the blonde says with a smirk.

"Besides, losing a cake competition isn't the end of the world. She got a ribbon. I might not join next year and she can have second place or something. Maybe she won't do pineapple cake again." The thief has all of her things packed away, given the plates were cleaned but for crumbs, and she gives Caitlin another smirk.

"Do I get your number so I can call and check on my cake?" she asks, tilting her head coquettishly to one side.

Fairchild has posed:
"No, that's--" Too late. Caitlin gives Felicia rueful look of mild reproach. "I'd turn it down, but it /is/ going to a good cause," she allows.

Hands are dusted on a cloth and the whole assembly collapses down into a neat stack and a single bag. "Oh! Well... sure, I don't mind," Caitlin allows in surprise. She digs her phone out of a small pink clutch that doesn't quite go with her outfit, and looks all the tinier against her towering frame. It's apparent as she walks around the little table that she's in plain slipper-style flats. Her number's displayed on her unlocked phone and she shows it to Felicia to do the ol' digit swap.

"I'm not sure how sure you'll need it, but I can't guarantee it'll be soon," Caitlin cautions Felicia. "Between my day job and my volunteer work, I just don't know if I can do anything on demand."

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia types the number into her phone and then flings a text to it, dictating: //This is Felicia, we met at the bake sale, you had that mint-chocolate cake that was a food-gasm.// The number is saved under 'Caitlin Maker of Andes Cake'.

"It doesn't have to be right away. I'll text you in a few days...maybe a week. I'm content for now." A subtle roll of her shoulders accompanies the thought. She slips her phone away into her clutch and gives Caitlin another winning smile. "I'm pretty busy too." A specific chime can be heard from her purse and her lips curl into something more pleased yet. "I'm being hailed. Nice to meet you, Caitlin. Enjoy your ribbon." With her own second-place ribbon in-hand, the thief then departs from the community center in a soft clickity-clicking of her heels and sashay of hips.