#bsvji

{`feeling a tap to her shoulder, Minji turned around and glanced at the other female in front of her before looking at the scarf she held out. Quickly glancing down at her messenger bag where her scarf had been hanging, she let out a soft chuckle and nodded} It is mine. {`she took the scarf and tied it to the strap of her bag} I hadn't even noticed it had fallen off, thank you.

[/Catches the cookies and throws a couple back at you with a soft smile.] I missed you too.

The boy was tracing the floral patterns on the couch when he heard the door open for the third time. Again, he went into position, eyes squinted as he peeked over the edge. In walked in a fairly young girl, satchel draped over shoulder. She sauntered over to the receptionist, black hair shourding his view from her face. She stood there for a minute or so, carrying a conversation. She finally smiled and strode into one of the halls. Henry didn't know why,must he found interest in her. She wasn't old enough to be anyone's mother. Perhaps a sister? He didn't know, but he guessed he would find out. Quietly, he crawled off the couch and trailed behind her, leaving a large gap in between them, to remain incognito.

I'm actually Chinese but I'm from America. -chuckles softly; Of course, I don't mind sharing at all. -smiles and gets two glasses of milk, coming back to hand you the glass before giving you a few cookies; 

-smiles; Hello Suji. I’m Mark. -he bows politely; It’s nice to meet you too, by the way. -chuckles and takes the pack of cookies; Oh boy, thank you! I can’t wait to eat them. Want some with me? I can get us milk. 

          Oh, yes, I figured that was the case! {--there's another sheepish chuckle emitted from her lips, fingers reaching upwards to try and somewhat cover her embarrassing grin.} Oh dear god, Suji. What to do with you, I wonder? {--she raises an eyebrow.} Maybe I should start shipping you with someone, as well?

[text} whut mission? it's 3 am whta it this?

Of all the different ways I had stolen, hunted and scavenged for food lately, I do pride myself on this idea. Cooking classes not only bought to me a good amount of various, well earned food, but it was always well baked and absolutely delicious. Spock might no have agreed, the occasional cookies or cakes I stole out for him were not all regarded as kindly as meat or even trash was for a dog, but for myself, it was an opportunity for a treat I did not care to waste.  I hadn't really paid too much attention to the other people in the class. The teacher I held with some interest, only when we were learning something new to me. But once you've been around as long as I have and, for the most of my years, self sufficient, you learn to cook well. I was quickly regarded a quick learner and I think that most people in the class excluded me purely because I was unnaturally good. Or perhaps it was the colourless eyes and the paleness of my appearance. Regardless, I didn't mind, for I never made any attempt to converse with any of them, either. That was until this week.  We were learning banana bread today. It's hard to describe the deliciousness of baking bread, but it filled the room with such a sweetness that I feel as though I could probably have wolfed down every loaf of bread baked in that room today. All save one. My bread had already been kneaded and shaped, waiting to be placed in the oven when a flash of white from the girl on the table in front of me dusted up, coating both herself and half of my own table. I blinked at her in shock, before realising she had spilt the flour. With an amused chuckle, I glanced up: the teacher was already busy with a disaster at the front of the room. Well, a bit of kindness wouldn't hurt. Perhaps she would even share her bread with me if I helped her to make it. With this hope, I moved around to stand beside her, regarding the lump of dough and the spilled ingredients about her messy, flour-coated table, with mocking dismay. I lifted an eyebrow.  "I think you've used a little too much flour."