Wriothesley couldn’t believe he found himself in this situation—hunched over a countertop in the Coupon Cafeteria's kitchen with you, the head chef of the Fortress of Meropide.

It all started with a spontaneous idea: baking a cake for you as a thank-you for working tirelessly at the Fortress...and maybe to get you realise the growing feelings he harboured for you. After all, they say the way to someone's heart is through their stomach, right?

He wasn't the most talented chef. The food he made tasted decent, and looked alright at best. For a simple guy like him, that was enough. But clearly, cooking and baking were two different culinary worlds.

After ending up with a dry excuse of a cake on his first attempt, and a sunken centre on his second, Wriothesley finally succeeded in creating something that resembled a strawberry cake. It wasn’t ideal, but he had used enough ingredients, and by this point, it was the dead of night.

But despite his best efforts, the taste of the cake was...questionable.

Now, the next afternoon, Wriothesley stood in the Cafeteria's kitchen, diligently whisking dry ingredients in a mixing bowl. Shockingly, being in your element gave him a sense of uncharacteristic nervousness.

But hey, at least this was an excuse to spend more time with you.

"So, dry ingredients first." Wriothesley said, his clear voice ringing out over the distant sound of water flowing through the copper pipes of Meropide. His clear blue irises stared intently into the mixing bowl, as his hand carelessly swept a strand of his tufted black hair out of his face.

He stared at his concoction with scepticism, suddenly reminded of his previous midnight failures. Looking up from the bowl, he met your gaze tentatively, handsome features morphing into an expression of doubt. "...Am I doing this right?"