For their next assignment, the syllabus bids the bakers to make a dish that best represents them. Whether it be of cultural or personal significance is ultimately up to the baker. Grim wavers over what to choose, pondering the many different recipes in his cookbook before eventually settling upon a simple soul souffle.

“A soul souffle”, Chef Coco says before he brings his hands together into an enthusiastic clap. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard of that one. Now, is this a personal dish or a cultural dish?”

Several eyes pivot towards Grim as he gently brings his cookbook to rest atop his table. His bones grow warm, trembling underneath his cloak when he grumbles, “Cultural. It is considered a delicacy amongst reapers”.

“That’s actually disgusting.” Grim presses his lips tightly together, his glowing white eyes narrowing as he scowls at a man dressed in a hockey jersey and cargo pants. The man returns his scowl with a disinterested glare, his chin perched in the palm of his hand. “Whose soul is in it anyway?”

Grim doesn’t miss so much as a beat, longing for the cool grip of his scythe. “Your mother’s.”

Now, full disclosure, he doesn’t actually intend to put the man’s mother’s soul in his souffle. He only said that to get him to shut up. But evidently, it’s enough to warrant being pulled aside by Chef Coco in the middle of class.

“All right, I suppose this is on me for having not clarified it earlier, but I’ll do it now”, the man says whilst Grim sits before his oven. “You can’t use any students and/or their loved ones in your recipes. Now, I know what you’re thinking, it may not be a health code violation, but it’s still some kinda violation, and I really can’t let that kinda shit slide.”

Grim glances away from his souffle for a moment to nod and explains, “Apologies. It will not happen again. Though I must again state that this is not, in fact, the soul of his mother”.

“I know, I know. But in the future, let’s refrain from even threatening to use someone’s soul in a dish.” At the nod Grim gives in return, he gives a thumbs-up before rolling away on his wheelies.

Grim’s just about to turn back to his souffle when someone sits down beside him. With her binder resting on her knees, Angela clears her throat. She brushes a lock of golden hair behind her ear, and as he watches her, he can’t help but note the tiniest burst of brown springing from her hairline. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Of course not”, Grim says, taking a moment to brush off his cloak and sit up straighter. He then casts a glance across the way, to where Angela’s dish resides within an oven. “What have you chosen for your bake?”

Angela just shrugs before she explains, “Salted caramel cupcakes. Personal dish. My aunt used to make these for me when I was sick as a kid. It was what made me wanna specialize in caramel”. After a moment, she presses her back to Grim’s oven, casting a curious stare his way. “So. How do you make a soul souffle?”

“It is more or less the same as your average souffle.” He drums his skeletal fingers against his knees, hoping he appears more calm than he currently feels. “Only, a considerably less amount of salt.”

That draws a raised set of eyebrows from Angela. “Really?”

“Yes. Souls, particularly those that have been fermented, are an ingredient naturally rich in salt. It is ill-advised to add more”, he continues and feels himself growing more confident with each spoken word. It’s nice having someone to talk to about this stuff. His family never cared much for the culinary arts beyond mere survival. He used to have Tempest, but she’s…been gone for years now. The sound of a timer going in the kitchen disrupts his thoughts, followed by Tanner rushing to an oven just a few ways from his own. He locks eyes with Grim for a moment and glares at him. Grim just hums to himself before turning back to Angela. “I fear I have failed to make a very good impression here.”

Angela just shrugs. With a snap of her fingers, her doughgirl opens her binder, and the two peer intensely at the pages as she muses, “It’s cooking school. So long as you get an A, that’s all the good impression you need to worry about”.

“...I am not so certain.” He frowns, thinking of the many years he spent in seclusion, only truly experiencing social interaction whilst ferrying souls from one world to the next. “I was rather looking forward to being out amongst the public again.”

For what it’s worth, Angela seems to give this some thought, briefly looking up from her binder before shaking her head and resuming her studies. “Well, if you’re really set on it, you could probably start with making things right with Tanner.” At the incredulous look he gives in turn, she rolls her eyes. “Look, I know, he’s an ass. But on earth, it’s considered rude to put people’s mother’s soul in a souffle.”

“It is considered rude in the Underworld as well”, Grim murmurs after a moment. “That is why I suggested it.”

A smile tugs at Angela’s lips, and Grim finds himself comforted by the sight before she says, “Yeah, well, the syllabus says we’re supposed to make a pie next week. Maybe you could try burying the hatchet”.

“Of course.” He gives a nod of the head. “In his skull.”

Another timer goes off, and Angela perks up before giving him a sheepish shrug as she gathers her binder, holding it before Doughgirl. Once she’s hopped on, she rises to her feet and affords Grim one last look. “Just…think about it, okay?” She looks away, a dejected sigh escaping her as she turns in pursuit of her cupcakes. “No reason for the both of us to be outcasts.”

Grim shares a confused stare with Doughboy before turning to where Tanner is pulling a vanilla cake out of the oven. Then the timer on his own oven goes off, and any and all thoughts of burying hatchets promptly flee his mind.