Perfectly round, perfectly baked, lifted with meticulous care from sheet to cooling rack. Each cookie as perfect as the randomized folding of chocolate chips would allow, as perfect as could be made by hand without an industrial machine involved- though she could, in a moment of vaguely embittered realization, consider herself an industrial machine.
"Yes, dear?" She's always been perfectly, acceptably affectionate. Distantly fond around Reginald as was his expectation, only ever more...motherly, more loving in private. Now that detachment has filtered into even these moments- a man intangible with a constant eye on the occupants of the house, on her? Could see if she deviated. When she deviated. "Oh, this?"
Muted surprise and she's never truly understood how much she dialed everything back until she no longer had to. Until she had to be careful her smiles weren't too warm, her laughter too bright. "I thought I should fill the dessert case."
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"Yes, dear?" She's always been perfectly, acceptably affectionate. Distantly fond around Reginald as was his expectation, only ever more...motherly, more loving in private. Now that detachment has filtered into even these moments- a man intangible with a constant eye on the occupants of the house, on her? Could see if she deviated. When she deviated. "Oh, this?"
Muted surprise and she's never truly understood how much she dialed everything back until she no longer had to. Until she had to be careful her smiles weren't too warm, her laughter too bright. "I thought I should fill the dessert case."