#askthepiemaker

She'd worked what she might say for hours on end. From the moment she'd discovered his tie to her family--or, rather, her tie to his--she'd rolled every possible phrasing of anything she could say in her mind, picking her favorites and throwing out the ones that weren't necessarily acceptable in polite conversation. 

But no matter of preparation could have ever prepared her for the moment her gloved fingers had pressed against the door of the Pie Hole. All she had to do was walk inside and...and what? Somehow pinpoint the man, waltz up to him and say, 'Hi, sorry to bother you, but you're my brother--okay, have a nice day'? Somewhere along the line she'd thought this would be a good idea...to unite their two halves and perhaps gain some answers for the both of them. It had simply never occurred to her that he might not want answers. Telling him anything could potentially turn his world upside down, and, worse, ruin how he saw his father. 

+askthepiemaker

Jehan had been baking since he was young. He had never really considered himself a baker or anything of the sort- it was simply a hobby, something he'd learned to do when the other children were out playing.

He'd been searching for a new job for a couple weeks now after the flower shop he'd been working in had to close. He'd been on his way home from a rather unsuccessful interview, when something caught his eye- a shop in the shape of a pie. It made the poet laugh, something he hadn't done in some time, so, of course, he decided to go inside. It was a cute place, the color scheme, the lights made to look like cherries, every bit of it was sweet and welcoming. Jehan sat at the bar area in the front on one of the stools, admiring all the different flavors. And that was when he noticed the 'help wanted' sign.