You may have stolen me
- Locked due to inactivity on Nov 26, '22 3:54am
Thread Topic: You may have stolen me
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(They just magically transported from her house to Nickola's without any driving lol)
"It's one of his smaller estates," the blonde woman said. "Now before we go in, I need to talk to you," she said as she turned to Dahlia. "My brother has been talking and wailing about you nonstop, and frankly, I'm tired of it. But I understand your position. So if you'd rather instead of delivering it to Nickola himself, bring it into the kitchen. But on the condition that you teach the cooks how to bake a decent cake, they're absolutely horrible at it." -
Dahlia coughed, trying to cover up her laughter. "That works for me. Teaching is one of my strengths," she smiled, readjusting her grip on the box. "So do I just, walk in?"
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"Come with me," she said. Opening the doors of the grand mansion, she stepped inside, walking with confidence.
"Marco," she called. A man with light brown hair came up to her. "Porta la signorina Dahlia in cucina. E non dire a Nickola che è qui."
Marco nodded. "Capisco," he said.
He then looked at Dahlia. "Mistress Cristina has instructed me to lead you to the kitchen. Follow me." And with that, he turned and started walking. -
Dahlia pursed her lips before nodding and following. She wished she had known what they had just said. Why had she skipped Italian so much in school?
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(They don't really teach you Italian in school. Spanish, French, and Latin are the usual ones, I think.)
The way to the kitchen was a long one. It was a wonder how the food got to the dining room without getting cold.
The kitchen was abuzz with voices and delicious smells. It was only 11, but lunch was anywhere from 11 to 1.
"Giuseppe," Marco called above the loud noises. A blonde man, presumably this Giuseppe, walked over to them. His white clothes were covered with splatter stains, a sign that he tasted his food, but also a sign that he was rather clumsy with a spoon.
"Yes?" Giuseppe asked.
"She's brought the cake," Marco said.
"OH Perfect," the cook said with a big grin on his face. He pointed with his finger. "Put it on that counter over there." -
They'd don't?? But it's Italian!!))
Dahlia obliged and set down the cake. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the strangers, but this newcomer-Giuseppe had they said? -seemed like a very pleasant man. He reminded her of the cheerful bakers in the childrens' books that her father used to read to her. -
(I could easily be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure the main three are Spanish, French, and Latin. Sometimes German, I think.)
Giuseppe peeked inside the box and gave a nod of approval. "Wonderful," he said. He then turned to Dahlia. "Have you eaten? We could easily fix something up for you." -
Dagnabit that's odd))
"Oh no, no, that's quite alright," Dahlia said with a polite smile, although her stomach grumbled in protest. "I don't want to be a bother." -
"No, no, I insist," Giuseppe said, waving his hand in a dismissal way. "What would you like to eat?"
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Dahlia hated accepting help, or being in someone's debt. Clearly though, she wasn't going to be able to worm her way out of this one. "Surprise me," she said, her eyes dancing with intrigue.
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(Don't forget she's supposed to give them advice on cakes.)
"Very well, then!" the chef said with great vigor. "Alessia!
Fare una porzione di coniglio alla stimpirata!"
Somewhere in the kitchen there was a shout of, "Si signore!"
Soon enough, there was a delicious-looking plate of coniglio alla stimpirata in front of her.
"Dig in," Giuseppe said. -
Oke doke!))
Dahlia smiled pleasantly, taking her spoon and taking a bite. Flavor and saliva instantly flooded her mouth and her eyes widened slightly. "Thish ish-" she paused, recalling that it was rude to talk with her mouth full. She swallowed her bite quickly. "This is wonderful!" -
A huge grin made its way to the chef's face at her approval. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "It's one of my favorite dishes."
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She beamed, before recalling the deal she had made with Nicola's sister. "It really is delicious," she gushed, her curly ponytail swinging a little as she moved. "Have you made any cakes recently?"
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"Ah, no," Giuseppe said with a frown on his face. "When we try, it doesn't go very well. So we don't."
Then his face brightened up with a brilliant idea he had.
"Would you do us the honor of teaching us how to make a good cake?"
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