[milan] a singular shadow [madeline]

It smelled quite delightful, actually.

The large convention center Johnny Jacobs had found himself in was massive, bustling, and full of great smelling treats. The baker was probably in some sort of culinary heaven, some Valhalla made of chocolate and sugar and flour and beautiful, ripe fruits. Stalls upon stalls upon stalls of ingredients and bakers from all around the world sat next to each other - some, as small as a bathroom and others, as big as a classroom at Hogwarts castle. They had demonstrations, interactive learning classes, stalls one could buy exotic and limited ingredients from, cookbooks - anything a baker could ask for, really. Johnny had made the right decision in taking time off to go to the Milan Baking Extraordinaire. This was something he was never, ever going to forget.

When he'd first entered the arena-like center, Johnny was a kid in a candy store. He almost zipped from stall to stall, purchasing things he'd never seen before and couldn't even pronounce. He could only imagine the possibilities with the ingredients that he was gonna have - Glitter and Gold back in ye ol' London towne didn't know what was going to hit them. The man had already formulated a few pairings in his head that might make the menu - perhaps he'd have a Tikka Masala cake, or even something based around the Alba White Truffle he'd had sitting in his bag.

"Maddie," Johnny's gravely voice had an extra air of excitement as he turned and spoke to his blonde companion, his large hands gripping her shoulders. "This is the best thing I've ever seen in my life. I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life." After letting go of Maddie, Johnny put his hands on his own head, turning around in circles to take on everything the expo had to offer.

"Listen, Maddie, listen to me. You went to culinary school but I never learned half the shite you did, and that means that we have to do one of those demonstration things." The Nigerian-Englishman turned back to Madeline Fletcher, brown eyes wide as he thought about making something new. Sure, he loved making cupcakes - the possibilities with cakes were as endless as one's imagination - but Jonathan could only imagine how powerful he'd be if he knew how to make more than one dessert. Eclaires, pie, creme brulee... the thoughts only went to excite the twenty-six year old further.

He grabbed the hand of his younger friend, leading her through the mass of people that were pulsing through the center. Johnny wondered if anybody in the crowd had the same reaction that he did when he stepped into the room. "What's fun to make, what's good? Macarons? I've never made those before! They have that here, you can learn to make those! Agh, I've never been so happy in my life. What should we make?"

@Madeline Fletcher

Maddie felt like a bit of a pack mule.

Some people liked sunny holidays, others liked rock concerts but the tall blonde liked cookery demonstrations. This, however, was not her first rodeo. She'd come prepared. She'd brought a large wicker shoulder bag with her that was currently weighing her down, full to the brim with ripe fruits and spices and nuts and the occasional whisk.

Like a magpie, she was constantly becoming distracted. In preparation, she'd asked her older brother, Ben, for some cash. It was under the premise that she needed a quick loan to pay the rent on  her Parisian apartment but really, it was so she could go bananas in this vast, sweet-smelling arena. Ben, being the angel that he was, hadn't asked any questions. All he said was that if she was ever in financial trouble, she should speak to their dad. Madeline would rather set fire to her own hair.

"Wait," the baker panted as she jogged after Johnny, almost slipping. "Slow down. Oh no! My nutmeg!" As the taller man grabbed her shoulders, she wobbled, the force knocking a small brown paper bag filled with the finely ground brown spice to the floor. "Eh?" She asked, blinking in confusion as Johnny wandered off again. She frowned a little as she picked up her bag again, mildly offended that he hadn't said that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life.

After all, she'd made an effort. She and Johnny had always been friends but a very small part of her always resented the fact that he never thought of her as a sexually viable creature. He'd made it very clear that he just thought of her as one of the lads.

"It's not shite," Maddie replied primly. "It's haute cuisine and it's taking numerous years to hone my craft. My petit fours are amazing," she added with another scowl. He wasn't the first person to casually pooh-pooh her schooling. There was so much more to making cakes. She attacked it with scientific precision, treating her kitchen like a potions lab. She woke at three in the morning and didn't sleep again until way past midnight. She'd suffered countless burns and cuts and meltdowns in the process. It wasn't just something anyone could walk into it. This was her life.

Suddenly, her demeanour changed. "Do we have to?" She asked Johnny in a very soft voice, gulping as she saw the people cooking along with varying amount of success. Unlike the fellow baker, Maddie wasn't a natural showman. She didn't like the limelight and she wanted to be left alone. Like being wrapped up in a sugary whirlwind, she tripped as she jogged after him, letting him propel her through the crowds, issuing apologies as she went. She gave Johnny's hand an imperceptible tug, trying to pull him backwards as she chewed on her lower lip nervously.

They were in Italy so what could they make? Cannoli? Biscotti? As he mentioned macarons, she was about to tell him that she could already make them. But then she thought on. She was about to get up in front of everyone and she was not about to make a fool of herself. "Macarons might be good," she said as casually as she could manage as she reached up and tied back her curls into a ponytail. She still wasn't keen on the idea but she could make macarons in her sleep, blindfolded and with one hand tied behind her back. Cheater? Absolutely. No one said her moral compass pointed due north.

"Hello," she said to a pretty young woman with long dark hair who passed her a clipboard. Maddie signed her name and passed it over to Johnny as she looked up at the stage. It wasn't huge. There was room for maybe six people, plus the instructor. The instructor faced the audience (thankfully) which was made up of around ten or so people, sitting in chairs. There were two long benches, all complete with utensils and ovens at the edge. With shaking legs, Maddie climbed the stage and took her place, silently cursing Johnny whilst offering a small smile to Frederico, the flamboyant chef with a shock of dark hair, super white teeth and a pink flower behind his ear.