dizzy_land | No shivering of timbers. Not here. (Not again.) (Reply)

There were times when having a habit of talking to yourself had definite benefits. Sunshine had no sooner started muttering to herself as she started in on the days baking before she realized she'd just referred to her pantry as "the bung hole," and froze in horror.

Last year, the whole thing had struck her as funny, right up until it led to things...happening between her and her closest friend in the park. And while she herself would have been willing to try to laugh the whole thing off, Fett's reaction hadn't exactly been in line with that course of action: it had pretty much been The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak for months now.

The idea of it happening all over again? No. Sunshine headed immediately back to the storage room that served as her bedroom and went and put on the baggiest, least alluring t-shirt and jeans she possessed, went and hung the "Closed" sign on the restaurant door, and then, mouth firmly shut, set about baking a pan of Bitter Chocolate Death. She had a feeling she'd need it.