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Marco was always expansive. If he was interested in something, everyone around him had to be interested in that thing, at least until it stopped keeping his attention.
That was, somehow, how Luchist got into pastries. Not just general baking, but pastries and confections. At first Marco was happy to lap up the results of his experiments, but then it got too subtle for him. Marco was… everything but subtle.
Still, it was nice to make cakes and treats for the church, and the people living around them.
And when the little bird came, it was nice to give her things to wonder at, too.
She crept into his kitchen when she thought the noise of the hood would cover her footsteps. He played the game, too. He stayed near the counter, eyes on his hands, and carefully continued whatever he was doing.
This time, lucky for her, he was preparing crêpes. No cooking yet, just making the dough. She had perfect timing, didn’t she? So, instead of turning, he continued to stir the dough, and she sneaked from the door to behind the table, and then scurried around, and then stood at his elbow, silent as you please.
“Can I try?”
He had to be careful now. He had to follow the rules of the game.
The game, he had come to realize, had very precise rules. If he showed surprise, or looked at her before she got to his sleeve, she would flee back to her rooms. If he mentioned it elsewhere than the kitchen, she would pretend she had no idea of what he talked about.
No, the right way to play was to nod, and if safe, to cut off a bit of his preparation and give it to her.
If it was hot, he needed to blow on it first. Then she would take it.
“Sank you,” she would say, her English still very much French, and then she would try it. He knew her tastes now, which were: everything. As long as it had sugar in it, she would eat it.
This time he didn’t have to wait for her agreement; he knew she would like it. Still…
“Do I have your stamp of approval?”
The little girl frowned slightly. “Stamp?”
Luchist pressed his finger into the dough, showing her. “Stamp.” He repeated it in Italian, and then in his beginner French. She seemed to get it.
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Do you want a real stamp?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Once his dough was finished, he put a cloth on it and put it away. Then he rummaged through the cupboards and fished out her smaller apron, as well as the big googly goggles and the gloves.
She knew that meant Experiments, so she was patient as they outfitted her. Then Luchist drew her a chair, and she very royally sat in it.
“What are we making?”
“Sugar bowls. Want to help me pick colors?”
She nodded with a smile. Not that she understood everything he said. No matter.
After careful consideration, Jeanne picked a cute lavender, and a turquoise blue, and then she decided for a lovely gold.
Meanwhile, Luchist unwrapped a little package of balloons and started filling one in water. Soon enough he was getting odd looks from Jeanne.
She made a question noise towards the balloon he was now placing on a bowl.
“This will help, I will show you. For now, can you fill me two other balloons? Not too much, just like this one,” he explained, and she looked closely at his balloon before nodding. She carefully rolled up the next balloon up the tap and filled it.
“Fini,” she said when it was about the same size. Luchist put his hand underneath to support it as he unrolled it from the tap and carefully closed it. “See? Not too small and not too big. Your bowl will look great.”
“Your bowl,” Jeanne repeated. She watched him place the balloon down on a bowl. And soon they had three.
“Stand back, this is the dangerous moment. It could pop,” he explained.
“Pop?”
He mimicked an explosion. “Boom.”
“Oh!”
They pushed her chair a little way away so she could watch from a safe distance. Then he carefully poured the heated syrup over the first balloon. It looked like pale purple lava. Jeanne drew her hands to her hair, obviously worried… but it did not pop.
“It did not pop!”
“No. How lucky, right? Do you want to touch?”
Trusting, Jeanne held the bowl Luchist now gave her. It wasn’t even warm anymore, and she was careful not to drop it. Luchist guided her to the sink.
“Hold it carefully,” he told her. Then he cut a small hole into the bottom of the bowl, and helping her hold the bowl they watched the balloon deflate and then fall down.
Luchist grinned and placed the bowl, face up, on his baking sheet. The drips looked like ethereal stalagmites, or perhaps like a water drop had been frozen in time.
“It is so pretty!”
“Isn’t it? I took the idea from a magazine, it is nice to see it work,” he said, half in Italian. It was just easier to speak in Italian, even as they tried to make her learn as many languages as they could.
Then they made the turquoise one, and then a gold one.
“Now we can put sweets in it.”
And just like that Jeanne’s eyes lit up. Opening a seemingly old biscuit box, Luchist revealed many glistening pieces of candy. Grabbing a handful, he dropped it in the bowl.
“Here.”
“More!”
He looked at her.
“More candy?”
“More candy, s’il te plaît please,” she insisted.
He obliged.
“More candy, please!”
He obliged.
“More candy, please!”
He obliged, and the bowl broke into pieces.
“Oh no,” she said, using an admonishing tone. “That was too many candy!”
“Really?”
“Really! Too many!”
He chuckled, and shook his head. “Alright. Too bad for the bowl.”
The nice yellow shards were nice to look at, but they couldn’t make a bowl. “We’ll just have to make another one. Would you like that?”
She nodded carefully, and Luchist started measuring for another bowl, and Jeanne selected the colors. He drew her chair closer. “Do you want to put the color in?”
“Yeah!”
“Good. Careful, the sugar is going to be very hot.”
When the syrup was ready, he turned off the heat and moved it towards her. “Now put it in.”
He watched her drop some more gold, and then a little red.
“I won’t mix it all,” he said. “That way we can see both colors in the end.”
Jeanne nodded in a way that made it clear she didn’t understand all the words. Then she got to watch him pour the mixture on the last balloon and she delightedly clapped her hands.
The sugar looked just like molten flames.
"Fire,” she commented quietly, and her smile said she liked it.
Luchist tried to not react.
“All done, now.”
He put away the supplies and they looked at the three bowls, lavender, turquoise and fire.
“Are we put candy in it,” Jeanne asked.
He thought about it. “Actually, I have a better idea. How about ice cream?”
The way her eyes lit up told him that was the right answer, and soon, he had each bowl filled with scoops of ice cream and a few raspberries.
Jeanne was almost jumping with excitement.
And that was just one afternoon of fun. Marco, if he noticed anything off with the colors of Jeanne’s bowl, didn’t mention it. It had just been… a beautiful handful of hours, and there had been other moments just like that. Little drops of happiness.
Until he left the ship.
Behind him, he left a son, a daughter, and little sugar leaves for a project he wouldn’t finish.