Orientation was rough, but as they head into their second week of classes, Grim finds himself cautiously optimistic. He knows his way around the school a bit better now, and his doughboy is no longer in an eternal state of slumber. Things are looking up, and as he files into class, he can’t help but wonder why he was so nervous about coming back to school.

“The name of the bake today is cookies”, Chef Coco says, adjusting the poofy white hat atop his head before affording them all a warm smile. “Chocolate chip cookies to be exact. Now, I’ve left a copy of the recipe on your desks. I’ve gotten a good look of where you all are from your doughkids, but today, I’d like to see how you perform with others.”

A hum escapes Grim. He already knows the answer to that question well before he finds himself sitting on his lonesome at the back of the class. He’s content to work by himself, reaching for the bag of brown sugar and pondering how much butter is too much when someone suddenly clears their throat. He looks up and finds it’s Chef Coco.

He grins, then says, “Working with others can do wonders for one’s skills”. He then pauses, and Grim finds whatever protest he might’ve had dissolving on the tip of his tongue when Angela begrudgingly walks over to them. Chef Coco just grins. “Something tells me you and Ms. Lone Wolf here will make a great pair.”

“Maybe. But I already had an idea for today’s bake.” She crosses her arms over her chest, an annoyed huff escaping her. “And I think I’d have a better go of it on my own.”

Chef Coco just shrugs. “You can do that if you want. But today’s assignment is a group project. I’d be forced to dock you points.” He gives her a pointed look. “Especially if you don’t follow the recipe.”

“...Perhaps we could still find a way to incorporate your ideas”, Grim offers after Angela has come to stand beside him, her brown brows furrowed as she brings an alphabetized binder to sit beside his cookbook.

But she just shakes her head, a huff escaping her as she tears open a bag of flour. She’s just begun to pour it into their mixing bowl when she grumbles, “It was a salted caramel cookie recipe. And seeing as he only wants us to make cookies the exact same way he makes cookies, I doubt we could get away with that”.

“No. I…suppose not.” Quite a few minutes have passed, and Grim’s just turned his focus onto their eggs, adding egg yolk after egg yolk to their mix as he ponders a way to break the silence. In the end, he opts for something that he hopes isn’t too intrusive yet better than asking about the weather. “So. What brings you to the Culinary School of the Arts?”

Angela cuts a quick glance his way, her shoulders going taut as she switches focus to the vanilla extract she’s adding from Grim’s pile. All the while, her doughgirl, with some effort, picks up a spoon and points it at him as if in threat. “Well, um, it, uh, it-it runs in the family.” She clears her throat, shooing aside her doughgirl before looking back at Grim. “What about you? What made you wanna come to cooking school?”

“Me?”, Grim asks after a moment. A small smile climbs to his lips before he shakes his head at himself and adds the baking soda to their mix. With that, he grabs their whisk and begins to whip their dough, settling into a gentle rhythm. “I suppose I am merely fulfilling an old promise.”

Angela raises her brown eyebrows at him, seemingly curious. She opens her mouth as if to ask something, only to then falter, flicking her stare to his cookbook before she says, “Right. Say, you got anything in your book on chocolate chip cookies? It’s…been a while since I made any”.

“I believe so.” Grim turns to where Doughboy has laid out upon the cookbook in question, lifting a finger to tap him lightly. After a moment to stretch and yawn, the doughy creature turns a sleepy-eyed stare up at him. Grim takes in a deep breath. He needs to teach everything he knows to Doughboy. He supposes now is as good a time as any to start. “Pardon me. Can you check the cookbook and see if we have any recipes on chocolate chip cookies?”

Angela watches as Grim opens the book for him, her stare curious as the doughy man begins flipping through the pages. “Well, he’s looking better. You added the yeast?”

“I did”, Grim admits, wavering when Doughboy pushes the cookbook towards her. The page he’s settled upon is one with elegant handwriting and beautifully drawn sketches of chocolate, eggs, and butter. Sadness descends upon him before he forces himself to focus on the last ingredient. “Ah. Chocolate chips.”

Angela gives the tiniest of smiles, a breath escaping her before she cedes, “Right. Guess you can’t really make chocolate chip cookies without the chocolate chips”.

With that, they add the chips to the mix, slapping them into the oven with plenty of time to spare. When at last they take them out of the oven, Grim finds his mouth watering. He’d be delighted to try some if he had a stomach. 

“That was not so bad.” He sets the plate of cookies at the edge of their table.

Angela’s silent for a moment. She then tilts her head to the side and smiles. “I guess not”. She then pauses, her stare returning to the cookies once more. “Did you put some kinda spell on them?”

“No, what makes you…say that?”, he asks, trailing off at the sight of the cookies, one by one, peeling themselves off the tray. He’s about to ask a question when one of them suddenly rushes towards him and pelts him in the head, crumbling into pieces on impact. 

Doughboy lets out a squeak, then rushes behind the bag of sugar to hide. Doughgirl affords him a sympathetic stare before grabbing hold of her spoon once more and standing in front of him, holding back their would be attackers with a fierce glare.

All the while, the remainder of the cookies turn their efforts onto their classmates. Startled yelps abound before Angela shouts, “Grim! What the hell was in those cookies?”

“Nothing!” Confused, he ponders the cookbook once more. “I followed the recipe as instructed.”

Angela glances over their pile of ingredients once more, faltering when she comes upon the vanilla extract. “Grim. Where’d this come from?”

“My sister’s cupboards”, he explains with ease. When Angela just stares at him, he wavers, biting his lower lip. “Is it…past the expiration date?”

She just scowls, her eyes narrowed when she responds, “No, it says it should be good for another two thousand years”. All the same, she shoves the tiny bottle at him before ducking as a cookie goes hurtling at her head. “It says it was made by poltergeists.”

“...Well, of course it was. All the vanilla that comes through the Underworld has to first pass through them.” At her continued silence, he presses his lips tightly together. “Am I to assume that…not how it is done in the Overworld?”

Angela just huffs before grabbing her whisk and whacking it against a flying cookie, a shower of crumbs falling around them in the aftermath. “Yeah, you could say that.”

. . .

Coco frowns, prying one of their haunted cookies from his hair. He sniffs at it for a moment before taking a reluctant bite.

“It’s not bad actually”, he says. “C+.”

Grim just hums to himself, swiping a splotch of melted chocolate off his skull before he muses, “Nice”.

“...It’s not an A.” Angela blows her golden bangs out of her face. “But I…guess I can work with that.”