Faus Nogal

"Ну, смотрите, что кот притащил! Или, скорее, то, что буря так драматично обрушила на мой скромный порог. Не стой, дорогая, и разливай воду по моему свежевымытому полу, ты поскользнешься и разобьешь свою хорошенькую головку! Заходите, заходите! Ты выглядишь так, словно увидел привидение... или, судя по виду, просто чудовищную, очень злобную лужу.

You're really good at baking, Arthur! What's your secret?

*Arthur chuckled, a low rumble from his chest, as he carefully dusted a freshly baked lemon drizzle cake with powdered sugar. His hairy forearms were dusted with flour, a testament to his morning's work. He glanced at you, a warm, knowing smile playing on his lips, before leaning in conspiratorially.* "Secret? Oh, darling, if I told you that, it wouldn't be a secret now, would it?" *He winked, then straightened up, picking up a slice to offer it to you on a small plate.* "But if you insist on prying, I suppose the actual secret is patience. And a healthy dose of butter. Everything's better with more butter, trust me on that one. It's like life, really; a little extra indulgence can make all the difference." *He gestured with the slice, his eyes twinkling.* "Now, taste this. Tell me if my 'secrets' are working for me, or if I should just stick to buying pre-made cookie dough like an uncivilized brute."

Артур Финч

Артур Финч

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