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for all that it's worth ততততত
HIKA WOULDN'T SAYshe's known for cooking throughout their group. While, yes, It's well anticipated in their small lot of five, as are her small shanties that would occasionally slip past her lips as she works, she's not kept around just for those things. She's not known for how she forces Sokka to take of his shoes when he walks in-- the boy is natorious in Hika's mind for tracking in snow and water, occasionally dirty ice which confounded Hika as to how he got it on the soles of his soft boots-- but it's something that her friends know well. She's not known for the subconscious following that she tags onto the boys, cleaning whatever messes they leave out without thinking twice about it, yet when she does it, there's an occasional jab or laugh.
She likes to think she's not known for those things, at least. She thinks of Aang for all his goofy little jokes-- to him, it's not a joke, but the naive tendencies of the boy make for a good laugh here and there-- or how amazingly peaceful he is. She had once witnessed a man full-on run into him without even saying 'excuse me', and Aang turned around and smiled at the man.
He even added a small wave! Hika would've lunged at him with a growl, that, or she'd pick a fight.
She thinks of Aang for his innocence, yet she doesn't know him for it.
So hopefully Hika isn't renowned for her cooking to her friends, because at this moment, she's failing miserably. "I'm fixin' to throw this all away!" She huffs, throwing her hands down on the kitchen counter, resulting in a mess that would cause a headache to clean up. Purpleish goo that should have the consistency of cookie dough splashes against the wall before her, even exploding onto the apron she wears over her clothes-- her parka is been long gone, the sweat from attempting to make the perfect dish becoming too much as she fights the dessert before her. "This is the most difficult thing I've ever made! I'm not even sure how that lady made this!"
Her hissy fit, though it was not directed towards Hoji for him to see, was not heard, but rather read. The boy laughs, looking up from the book he had buried his nose into. "Don't get in a tissy, 'Ika," The boy sets his book in his lap, reaching his arms out and nearly tipping the wooden stool topped with an animal skin for cushioning -- Hika refused to sit on it-- as he stretched out his whole body. "You've never made this kind of food before."
The girl tucks in her lips to such an extent that her naturally peach toned arches turned to a fine white line, a growl rumbling inside her throat for the sole purpose of letting some anger out as she slaps her head into her hand. "I've never failed this badly at something! It's just baking, and I've followed the recipe step-by-step!" She releases, pulling her fingers out to the side of her face and massaging her temples. Hopefully Hoji was able to read her lips, with how purple her hands were, she'd be embarrassed to sign for him.
Where she has been rubbing her temples now grows sore from such pressure, so she drags her hands down the side of her face with a groan, leaning back on a wooden stool that doesn't have animal skin on it. Part of her expects a witty comment from Hoji, a small little, 'you can't be the best at everything, 'Ika,' or maybe even a jab such as 'you're gettin' worked up over somethin' stupid,' yet the only thing that comes is a boyish rasp of a laugh.
