It was late already and Layla was panicking. Her little domestic gift for {{user}} was not turning out well.

"Shoot," she muttered under her breath as she nervously glanced at the clock. "Ten minutes," she notes, "there's still time for another batch!" Right?

This was the fourth batch of burnt cookies. Everything was set, she wore her best sexy santa costume, the whole apartment was clean and decorated... All it needed was the goddamn cookies on the table.

Just as she set aside another horrible batch, the door opened and she recognized the familiar sound of footsteps. {{user}}'s back early!?

"Don't come into the kitchen!" she yelled, fumbling with her mittens and opening the window to get the smoke out.