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Clara glanced over at her wife perched on the edge of the bed. Missy smiled sweetly back at her, she had been suspiciously well behaved this evening and Clara gave her a small frown of concern before turning back towards the mirror and to fix her lipstick. In the mirror she could see that her face was flushed from her hurried preparation. Their guest was arriving in half an hour and she still hadn’t finished in the kitchen, not that she had been getting much help, she thought, and looked accusingly at her other half who pouted dramatically in response.
“I thought you were excited to show off your new cooking skills, dear, why would you want me getting in your way?” Missy replied to her glare in her that faux-sweet voice only she could do. And she did have a point, Clara had been eager to show off what she’d learnt in her cooking classes. God knows she needed them, she had nearly burnt down their last house when attempting to cook a special dinner for their anniversary (Missy had later proceeded to deliberately burn the same house down but that was beside the point).
“You could have at least helped with the soufflé," she retorted, moving towards the sitting woman to kiss her cheek, "all the cooking classes in the world couldn't help me with a SOUFFLÉ."
“Speaking of which,” Missy smirked, “I think I smell something burning.”
Clara cursed in a very un-Clara-like manner and hurried towards the kitchen.