ArchivedLogs:Fifty Shades of Cake

Fifty Shades of Cake
Dramatis Personae Hanna, Tag	2013-06-04 Hanna and Tag and pastry pigments. Not actually risque; sorry.
Location <NYC> Happy Cakes Bakery - TriBeCa
Happy Cakes Bakery is a cheery little spot of vintage charm amidst the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan neighborhood, a refurbished pair of row homes that hardly resemble their previous selves - the front walls are almost entirely gleaming glass, with the logo of the bakery painted onto the top, and rainbows of cupcakes dancing along the edges. Eclectically styled, it seems homey and welcoming - if the cross stitched sign by the door wasn't obvious enough - "All are Welcome!" it reads, with the "All" underlined in a sparkling bubble gum pink and yellow dotted line, with the logo of the bakery, a cheery smiling pink and white cupcake, beneath the lettering. Once inside, the walls of the combination bakery and coffee shop are covered in crisp clean white ceramic tile, with the occasional randomly placed tile with an color engraving of a tropical flower, or tile made of reclaimed China. Ambient music reminiscent of the Big Band era plays through the shop, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to make conversation difficult. Tables and chairs in a variety of sizes, colors, and styles fill one side of the room, none of them quite matching each other, but all of them seeming to work together. The other side of the shop is a long series of gleaming glass and chrome bakery displays, filled with colorful sweets and treats of every description. To one end of the counter is a gleaming chrome espresso machine with far more tubes and bobbles than is really necessary, but producing excellent espresso beverages. At the other end is the old style cash register, a chrome and cherry wood relic from a bygone age that dings cheerily with each sale. The wall behind the counter is covered in photos of a tropical island, as well as a pair of shops that look like a smaller version of this one, several including a pair of dark haired women. The door opens only just wide enough to admit a short, colorful wisp of a man from the sunny street. He wears a woven white t-shirt over an in-tact one in garish bright tie-dye, and torn blue jeans decorated with curling violet fractal vines. The neon pink sneakers on his feet have rainbow laces that are untied yet startlingly clean. His hair is a deep shade of blue that might have been mistaken for black in the dark, and his face betrays an expression of simultaneous bewilderment and intense concentration. He spends a good long moment staring around the shop as though he has never seen anything like it before, then finally notices the counter and approaches it with entirely more caution than seems warranted. “I have no memory of this place,” he blurts out, to no one in particular, as his--purple? Yes, purple--eyes wander over the contents of the display cases. The slightly sedated jingle of the silver bells over the doorway draws Hanna from the back room, arriving from through the swinging chrome doors like something out of a 1950s calendar. Her curvy figure is swathed in a brilliantly pink house dress with pale yellow lapels and blue buttons at the collar, over an insanely ruffly raspberry colored crinoline, paired with relatively sedate sky blue mary jane kitten heels. Her glossy black hair is braided into a rather impressively ornate bun, topped with a pink hibiscus flower pinned into place as a final touch. Swinging along in time to the music overhead, Hanna bustles towards the counter, her crinolines swishing merrily as she does. “Hi there, welcome to Happy Cakes Bakery,” Hanna says with a cheery smile, genuinely spreading to her golden brown eyes, “We haven’t been open for quite that long, since I’m relatively new to the city, but word is starting to get ou.” Leaning against the top of the cases, which are filled with a rainbow of sweets and cupcakes, to look at the young man curiously. Hanna grins, “What can I get for you? If you’ve got any questions, just ask, and I’ll happily make up something.” “This is...amazing,” Tag mutters. For a few beats, it seems as though he might not have noticed the proprietor who just spoke to him, but his eyes suddenly focus on her. “I’m sorry, I can’t even know how to begin. How do you...” He trails off, gesturing at the baked goods and blushing a shade of pink that does not seem physically possible on Asian skin. “How do you make these things so colorful...I mean, with just...technology?” Hanna chuckles, shaking her head, “Technology, I suppose you could say. I do what I can to use naturally occurring coloring and just mix and combine them to provide the bright colors. There are some that, ah, are admittedly enhanced with the miracles of modern chemistry - if you’re concerned about that, I can point out which ones have the chemical colorings in them.” She gestures through the glass at a few of the more neon colors, but the vast majority of the pastries seem to be natural, “We also have vegan goodies, and with the exception of the bacon maple cupcakes, they’re vegetarian.” The bubbly woman gestures towards the other end of the counter, where the coffee and espresso station is, manned by a lithe young woman with brilliantly grass green hair and earthy toned skin. “And, if you fancy some coffee or other beverage, Jayna can help you out with that,” Hanna says with a cheery smile. “Wow...” Leaning over to put himself at eye-level with a row of cupcakes, Tag still cannot seem to cope with the sheer variety they present. “Could I have one...with /all the colors?/ Can technology do that? I mean, of course technology can do that, but I mean...” He stops abruptly, shaking his head. Blue hair that had been tucked behind his ears fall across his eyes; it looks a brighter shade blue now than it was a few minutes ago, though that may have been an optical illusion. “I mean a rainbow one. All swirly-like, maybe. Unless you really can make one that is all the colors at once, /without/ being swirly, but I don’t think /normal/ optics works like that. I’m not worried about chemicals that much. Maybe...I should be.” When he looks up and quirks a smile, his eyes are the blue-green of a leaf beetle’s carapace. Pausing to ponder the question for a moment, Hanna stands upright so she no longer leans on the case, her coffee colored eyes scanning the case and looking at the colors she has, “Ah, hm. I don’t think I have anything quite like that in the case right now. I’ll have to consider it - I bake everything fresh every morning, so I can see about mixing up something colorful like that.” She looks through the case again, considering, “Well, if you want colorful, I’ve got the spring cupcake which has little rainbow sugar flowers and green icing - cupcakes are a raspberry chocolate. Or, we’ve got some that have pink and purple icing - cupcakes are a yellow pudding base, though.” The color change in Tag’s eyes gets a slightly quirked eyebrow, but Hanna doesn’t address it, “I don’t think I can do anything that’s all colors at once - not really how stuff works, and black baked goods aren’t really an appetizing thing.” She wrinkles her nose and shrugs, “So, what’ll it be?” Tag wrenches his gaze back from a lazy sunbeam reflected on one of the glossy tiles. “Spring! I love spring...and rainbow sugar flowers. Can I have that one?” He starts digging in his pockets, only locating his wallet--covered in a glittery multi-colored moire pattern that looked like it moved on its own--after several false starts produced only slightly crumpled origami creatures. “All the colors at once. I wish stuff worked like that. I bet it’s just a matter of knowing /how/ to do it,” he muses, handing over a ten-dollar bill. “I’ve learned how to do new colors before. Or do old colors better. I mean...you didn’t always know how to make rainbow sugar flowers and green icing, right?” Hanna smiles, and pulls one of the suggested cupcakes out of the case, setting it onto a colorful China plate, setting it onto the counter for Tag to take. “Here you go. One super springy cupcake. Didja want anything to drink? I swear, Jayna makes a rather awesome blueberry latte that has been pretty popular this week,” the baker says, accepting the cash and making change, handing it back to Tag. “And yeah - I went to pastry school instead of normal college - but I’m always making improvements on my technique - playing with icing colors is always fun,” Hanna grins and chuckles, “It’s an ever evolving art, if nothing else. And I get to eat the failures.” “Thank you!” Tag rotates the plate, admiring the cupcake from every angle as though it were a fine sculpture. “I should probably steer clear of caffeine for now, but if I could get just blueberry flavored milk substitute, that would be /sweet./” He smirks, and all of the colors on her person seem to grow brighter as if someone had applied an image filter. “‘Sweet...’ Anyway, I bet pastry school is way better than normal college. I did that, and all it ever gave me was insomnia and a nervous breakdown. Now I make art, too, but unlike yours, my failures are not delicious.” Chuckling and shaking her head, Hanna offers a cheery smile, offering a nod, “Fair enough - you can go ahead and sit down - I’ll bring your drink over for you.” Jayna has already started getting the beverage together, although she calls over to Tag, “Ah - you have a preference on milk sub? We’ve got soy, rice, and coconut today.” Depending on Tag’s response, the green haired barista gets the beverage ready as requested, humming merrily as she does. The whole thing is put into a twisted colored tumbler, and topped with soy whipped cream and a single little blueberry balanced on top, with little chocolate leaves on either side of it. Handing the drink over to Tag, Hanna shrugs, smiling a bit, “My breakdown was in high school. Baking was my solace then, and it still is.” "Oh, coconut, please." Tag lifts the plate gingerly and carries it to the shiniest table in the shop. He is still staring at the cupcake when Hanna arrives with his drink. "Thanks. Yeah, high school was pretty terrible, too. I had my art then, too, but it didn't come as easily." He tilts his head far enough so that his curtain of cerulean blue hair falls to one side. "If you ever need anything painted--especially if you want it painted more than one color--I'm your man." To demonstrate his point, Tag plucks the blueberry from the shake, and the mountain of whipped topping upon which it rested blooms with vaguely organic swirls of color. "I do mean /anything/," he adds brightly, popping the blueberry into his mouth. “High school had a lot of angst and typical teen drama for me. It got to be too much and,” Hanna explains with a cheery smile, though she doesn’t really seem to do much else, “well, it got to be too much. And I’m really not a pleasant person to be around when I’m in a bad mood.” The colorful change of the whipped topping gets a surprised gasp from Hanna, and this time it is her eyes which change colors, flashing to a brilliant green-gold in pleased surprise. “Oh - that is simply glorious,” Hanna coos, grinning broadly, “Is it entirely edible? Is it a chemical change, or just a color change? Does it alter the taste at all?” She looks between Tag and the whipped cream, “You aren’t by chance looking for a job, are you? Because, seriously, if you are an artist, and you can do that? Holy cupcakes - you could make some absolutely gorgeous decorations on cakes.” As she is geeking out over the color change, her eyes have shifted to an almost indigo blue in excitement. Tag puffs up just a little at the praise, his hair turning violet from the roots down as if blushing. “It does not change the taste, and is edible. I did a bit of actual lab work with it once, and it doesn’t seem to alter the chemical structure of the substrate at all.” He shrugs, picking up one of the chocolate leaves to reveal that the topping is still white underneath. “So it’s just a surface color change...but /how/ it does that is pretty much a mystery. Though...” A fey smile. “...I guess it’s not /that/ mysterious, compared to teleportation and shapeshifting and stuff.” He nearly bounces out of his seat at the mention of work. “Boy, am I ever! I just came from an interview, actually. It wasn’t what I thought, but the guys were nice enough and we...hung out some.” Then he dims a little, sticking the chocolate leaf onto the cupcake. “But honestly, I am kind of an unreliable employee. Kind of reinforces all those awful stereotypes about artists being flakey, I know.” He rolls his eyes a bit self-consciously. The purple has taken over all but the tips of his tousled hair. “On the other hand, I really, really, /really/ love making art! That really isn’t even work to me. If you would give me a chance.” Hanna watches with amusement as Tag explains himself, resting against a nearby empty table as she listens. “Huh - so it is essentially painting, of a sort, just immediately, and with no drying time like normal paint methods,” the woman muses, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at the drink, “Damn - usually if I’ve had to hand paint a cake or a batch of cookies, I’ve got to wait a few hours before the color is entirely set and won’t smudge. Even just the single color washes takes forever.” Thinking for a moment, Hanna looks back into the case, “I don’t mind the flakiness - I’d be willing to work with you on commissioning things, so you aren’t tied to a baker’s schedule or anything. We make do with just three employees right now, just fine.” She looks back to tag, her eyes having resettled into a warm golden brown color as she smiles, “Would you be willing to come back and do a test run tomorrow afternoon? I can have a batch of blank canvases - white icing cupcakes, some iced cookies, and possibly a mini cake covered in fondant. You can have at it - however you want to paint them. Consider it an interview, of sorts. If the stuff gets a good reaction from the customers- I’ll see about contacting you to do more of them, as you’re available?” She grins, though, and glances down at the table, with the mostly untouched baked good and beverage, “I should let you enjoy your food, though. Sorry for being an over excited goof - it’s just, well, damn that’s a nifty ability.” Hanna grins and stands up, neatening her dress once again, “I don’t think I caught your name, though. But - if you leave your name when you head out, we can get back in touch with you tomorrow? No rush though, sweetie, enjoy the cupcake and blueberry milk at your pace.” Tag nods vigorously, purple hair flopping back down into his eyes before he shakes it out again. “That would be utterly rad, thank you!” He stands up and extends a hand--his fingers are slender and stained here and there with what looks like actual dried paint. “My name is Tag.” He grins widely and picks up a napkin with his other hand. The letters t-a-g in rainbow cursive appear on the napkin, and beneath them a telephone number. “This is my...er, tag, and number. You might see my art here and there, sometimes.” Hanna smiles genuinely, accepting Tag’s handshake with her own hand - possibly the only part of the woman that doesn’t seem to be soft and squishy, marked with calluses that form from years of baking and working in food service. “Wonderful. Thank you, Tag,” she says with a smile, accepting the napkin, “Stop by any time after noon tomorrow, and I’ll let you sit and work on the blank baked goods.” She fishes out a card from a hidden pocket in the side of her dress, holding it out to Tag - it is a standard business card in white, with Happy Cakes Bakery written across the top in block letters, the overly cheery cupcake logo grinning below that, in swirling cursive letter it has her name, as well as a website, e-mail, and phone number. Written at the bottom of the card, in small but legible pink letters is the phrase, “All are welcome.” Smiling at Tag, Hanna nods towards his food, “Go ahead and sit back down and eat - I’ll let you be, and we will see you tomorrow, ok?” She starts to move back towards the main counter, still smiling that same cheery smile. “Okay!” Tag plops back down into the chair and attacks the spring cupcake with tremendous enthusiasm, doodling in the whipped topping of his beverage as he drinks it. Every so often, he stops and just stares out of the window, then smiles a smile of childlike wonder and returns to his food.