๏ผ bones is about to learn that itachi takes direction about as seriously as a heart attack.
itachi, as it happens, is very, very good at being precise. terrifyingly good, actually. like, 'this is not a normal level of precision to bring to a cake-making event' type of stuff. honestly, the entire clan is full of weirdos, itachi is not an outlier.
while his clone focuses on clean-up, itachi takes the bowl. and the butter. every time bones gives him another ingredient and its necessary measurement, he is immediate in getting that very thing in that very amount.
sugar is painstakingly measured out by weight. even the tiniest overage has him adjusting the amount until he's satisfied. every subsequent ingredient or step (creaming the butter! mixing the dry ingredients before adding them to the main bowl!) is treated likewise, and after much direction and whisking and breaking of eggs and general shenaniganry, the batter is done. itachi is eyeing it critically, as if daring it to somehow be Incorrect. when it does nothing more onerous than sit viscously in its bowl, he finally asks: ๏ผ
( it's... a relief? yes, actually, a relief that itachi takes to it so well, with such intense precision. should it be at all surprising? no, not really.
by the time the batter is ready, the preserves are cooling on the counter, and he hands off the empty pot to the clone. )
Butter the pan, ( the one he places on the counter at itachi's elbow, ) and dust it lightly with flour until it's all coated. Then the batter goes in, and it's ready to bake.
( and he's getting started on hot water for tea, while they wait. )
๏ผ these instructions are also obediently followed. the pan is greased, the flour dusted, the batter poured.
the clone takes the bowl once it's empty, and itachi then gestures to the oven. ๏ผ
Is it heated appropriately?
๏ผ he knows a little, though baking of this nature is hardly an area of expertise. all he really has are fragments of childhood memory, the smell of his mother's baking filling the house. there was a period, while his father was away on business, when she was of middling pregnancy with sasuke, where she'd baked nothing but sweets for a week. he remembers her and kushina giggling together like schoolgirls over a platter of butter cookies, warm and fond in each other's company. ๏ผ
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no subject
itachi, as it happens, is very, very good at being precise. terrifyingly good, actually. like, 'this is not a normal level of precision to bring to a cake-making event' type of stuff. honestly, the entire clan is full of weirdos, itachi is not an outlier.
while his clone focuses on clean-up, itachi takes the bowl. and the butter. every time bones gives him another ingredient and its necessary measurement, he is immediate in getting that very thing in that very amount.
sugar is painstakingly measured out by weight. even the tiniest overage has him adjusting the amount until he's satisfied. every subsequent ingredient or step (creaming the butter! mixing the dry ingredients before adding them to the main bowl!) is treated likewise, and after much direction and whisking and breaking of eggs and general shenaniganry, the batter is done. itachi is eyeing it critically, as if daring it to somehow be Incorrect. when it does nothing more onerous than sit viscously in its bowl, he finally asks: ๏ผ
What is the next step?
no subject
by the time the batter is ready, the preserves are cooling on the counter, and he hands off the empty pot to the clone. )
Butter the pan, ( the one he places on the counter at itachi's elbow, ) and dust it lightly with flour until it's all coated. Then the batter goes in, and it's ready to bake.
( and he's getting started on hot water for tea, while they wait. )
I'll show you how to make frosting once it cools.
no subject
the clone takes the bowl once it's empty, and itachi then gestures to the oven. ๏ผ
Is it heated appropriately?
๏ผ he knows a little, though baking of this nature is hardly an area of expertise. all he really has are fragments of childhood memory, the smell of his mother's baking filling the house. there was a period, while his father was away on business, when she was of middling pregnancy with sasuke, where she'd baked nothing but sweets for a week. he remembers her and kushina giggling together like schoolgirls over a platter of butter cookies, warm and fond in each other's company. ๏ผ