Red Hood

31. It's Time for Round 2

Jason watched as Danny sliced the apples like a champ, her ease with the knife only comparable to his in speed, tossing them in a pan with browned butter and spices. She let the spices warm and release their smells before doing so, the nostalgia and comfort warming him inside and out.

"This should totally be a candle," Danny inhaled contently, Jason doing the same, "I know I'd buy like, at least three of them. That's childhood right there."

He agreed, watching the mixture bubble and begin to caramelize, "Sure seems like a good childhood to me if you were eating this every fall."

"You have no idea," she chuckled, stirring the apples gently with a grin while Jason began creating the dough. He mixed the flour and cold butter with a little bit of salt, easily combining it by hand just as well as any food processor.

"I should be making your muscles do all the work all the time," Danny watched, holding up an arm as if flexing herself.

Jason rolled his eyes, "You've worked out in your garage for how long?"

"Since I was 14, basically 6 years," she rolled her eyes back, "why?"

"Have you seen the muscles you gained from doing that and martial arts all those years?" He sassed, pointedly staring at her lean and toned form, "if anything you should be doing the heavy work," he joked.

"I do look good," Danny gloated, although her upturned nose lasted only a second before she dissolved into laughter.

"Yeah, yeah," Jason smiled, their conversation lulling as they began doing more tasks, looking at the time left.

Beginning to roll out the crust of the pie, the dough malleable under the rolling pin, the rhythmic push and pull left Jason's thoughts to wander, the scent of flour and cooking apples sharply playing against his keen sense of smell.

You must roll it out evenly, Master Jason, an elderly and warm voice sounded in his head, turn and fold to layer the butter throughout and make a flaky crust. As I say; A flakeless crust is no crust at all.

Why he was called 'master' Jason could only wonder, but his body relaxed, remembering the man was the grandfatherly figure he never had, a person he highly looked up to.

I know, Alfie, he heard his own voice, but you should know how hopeless of a case I am.

A chuckle sounded, you are not as hopeless as your brothers, don't tell them I said so. Besides, you have done well with the brisket and other meats we have done.

The voice caused his memory self to laugh too, Meat's a whole nother ballgame where all you do is season and measure the heat, all the while dessert is more difficult than stopping a bomb half-blind.

Something you know all about, I'm sure, the voice sassed.

Jason grinned, finishing as he folded and rolled the dough one last time, the memory filling his determination bar up even higher.

I'll do you proud, Alfie.

You can count on it.