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You can't make pancakes without it, huh??

"You the pancake expert now?" Tidus throws up his hands, a hum of resignation. "Alright then, you're the new chef. But get a second pan ready if you wanna do pancakes next. Unless you want our pancakes as big as the pizza wraps!"

Since, you know, that's just what the wraps are called now. But Tidus turns and without any further fuss jogs down to the stores car door, searching for the shelf with the extracts and flavourings for baking. Right next to the flour and yeasts. He takes one, resists grabbing a few of the baking spices and the easy cakes they could make, heading back up surprisingly empty handed for his last run down.

"You wanna make the batter now, or roll out the wraps first? Won't take five seconds if we stick the hand mixer to it."

He plops down the extract bottle onto the side. Lead us, oh mister president of pancakes.

Edited 2020-10-26 17:44 (UTC)

"Not an expert. Let's just say I've got some tricks up my sleeve."

Plus, he's not so ready to take on the mantle of chef just yet! What's one simple little dish like this compared to all the rest cooking before him; out of his reach until Tidus directed him how to do it? A marvel, indeed. For now, Roland takes a second pan, a little smaller than the first. Space to make more than one pancake though, and that should be enough. He also grabs spoons and a ladle, setting those aside for later.

"You and I can split the task. Let me handle the pancake mix."

Roland nods in thanks and begins to prep the bowls as soon as the extract is acquired. The recipe itself, for once, is ingrained in his brain. Routinely, albeit slow as if double-checking if his memory is still correct, Roland starts with measuring the dry ingredients first: flour, a little salt, a little baking powder, some sugar. Then he shakes his head as he does each measurement task with practiced ease.

"The fun part is in mixing it by yourself! Besides, pancake mix isn't doughy like bread. Anyway, this is a great way to get some exercise in, too." He jokes, pushing the dry mix aside for now and focusing on the wet ones. Eggs to be cracked into the mound of white, milk, then Roland starts looking around for butter. In the meantime, if Tidus is on wrap duty - pizza wrap duty! - or puree for the focaccia bread, Roland will mimic his energy and starts to looking around for...more ingredients? He has the bowl against his chest, one hand holding a spatula. Turns back to the younger with an almost uncharacteristic hesitation.

"Err, you don't happen to have any candy or chocolate in your Arms Band, do you?"

Tidus's hum is sing-song, an alright in the noise. He scoops a half a handful of the plain flour and sprinkles his workspace with it. Slicing the dough into the amounts written down, then beginning - once rubbing his dusted hand over the pin - to roll it out. Turning, shifting; the first few rolls always a pain, but the dough begins to comply with his efforts.

He watches Roland less than he keeps his ears open for him, but he does take some looks over to see what he's doing. Not exactly keeping an eye on him than just curious, snippets to take his attention as the once small ball smooths out into a nice flat disk.

It's with his own arms getting a workout with the wrap that Roland speaks up, and Tidus lifts his head. Chocolate?

"What'cha want?" A look at his hands, he sees there's nothing on them, and so doesn't mind stepping back to hold out a hand. Gold glitter welcomes a thin bag appearing from nowhere into his grip, made rectangular and bulky from whatever's inside. Tidus lifts it once. "Try this?"

Inside, once unveiled, are rather decent sizes of milk chocolate slabs, multiples on one another. ....just hanging around inside Tidus's arms band. No big deal.

Why did Roland know that request would somehow follow-through? Nevertheless, he says his thanks to Tidus before he wipes his hands on his apron, picking out a couple of the brown slabs from the bag. He'll turn back to the chopping board, setting the chocolate squares down and smashing them gently with a firm palm against the surface. They break into tiny pieces, though he leaves a couple more that are bigger than the rest.

In two batches, he adds the smaller, almost shaving like chocolate into the wet mixture, alongside a couple of well-measured drops of vanilla extract. Both wet and dry ingredients are finally combined, and thanks to the color of the chocolate, what should have been pale and cream-colored has now turned a bit darker. Though Roland does look pleased. Meanwhile, the other half of chocolate, bigger pieces, are set aside. Butter is placed in the slowly heating second pan as he glances from time to time at Tidus's own workstation.

He'll speak as soon as he notices Tidus's curious gaze at his ask for chocolate in the pancake mix, if at all. He shrugs and casts as an odd look at the whole set-up, as if in a slight daze.

"Just checking to see if I can still remember how to do this." Roland swirls the butter around the pan with one hand, his other resting against his hip. By all means, it almost looks domestic.

"Let me add the Crane family recipe for pancakes to your little spread here. Thought it might be nice." Which is to say, one of the very few things Roland can cook by memory.

If Tidus thought about it, he might have asked Roland -- despite him doing it anyway -- to be cautious about how much chocolate he used. But then, unbeknownst to the president was the amount that Tidus had anyway, of different flavours and varieties. So, again: no biggy, really. He and Inigo did a lot of shopping back on Irivar.

But the sight of Roland at working is certainly something. Standing by the stove, set in an apron and looking content. The Crane family recipe calls it, and it makes Tidus's mind want to conjure up a different kind of view.

"So presidents have time to be in the kitchen back home, huh? Just put you in a button up shirt and roll your sleeves, grey that hair, and I can see it." The humour spreads the ends of his mouth into its grin. Yeah, that's a way more likely view, isn't it? "I wonder what you look like at your normal age of eighty..."

Was that the number they last went with, him and Inigo? Ah. Wait.

"...eighty two?"

"I'm not eighty two!" Roland sighs deeply, but he's so used to their running joke that it's no longer something he lingers on anymore. He should just be lucky neither of them were ranking him up in the hundreds yet. But as he banters with Tidus, hears the amusement drawl out of the teen, Roland finds his hands already moving in muscle memory too. The butter, as soon as it gets to a good sizzle, meets a ladle of the batter. The smell wafting through the air, instant.

It's what Roland does as soon as bubbles appear on the surface of the largest disk of cooking pancake that's interesting. The ladle is swapped out for a spoon, and he begins...shaping things on the pan, with more pancake mix, or by moving the largest pancake around so that its edges bleed out into something. What, right now, one can't tell yet.

This he does while speaking, though Roland will bend a little to level at the pan, studying it like art.

"That's a surprisingly accurate image of the past, Tidus. Except for the part where I had the time to do this, because I definitely didn't." There's a wryness to that response, but Roland is still, more or less, quite jolly about it. "Truth be told, I only cooked this on Sundays when I could afford an easy morning. Will loved it. Or at least, pretended to." He chuckles.

As Roland places the larger chunks of chocolate against the wet part of the pancake, it does occur to him somewhat that this might be the reason why he could afford to talk a little bit more about the life he left behind. It felt...surprisingly, good. Freeing. Like he can breathe because someone sees him for something besides the man in charge of a country, or the second-in-command in case the king is out of commission.

(The pancakes are beginning to form...a face? Was that a snout or a nose?)

Speaking of what things were starting to look like, or what they once did - Roland straightens up and looks as if he just remembered something interesting. It's enough that he momentarily lowers the heat setting on the stove and leans back against the edge of the counter, hand beneath his chin in thought.

"Hm...What I looked like before..." Tidus, make sure that doesn't burn!!

He's rolling out the wraps here to ready, what is he supposed to do!

But it's interesting to Tidus, to hear Roland speak about himself. He's not been entirely a shut book to him - it's just that sometimes, they haven't thought to share about each other. Not certain details about their lives. And what was life like for a man with a family, busy with running a country but also having a son?

And what was that son like, that Tidus barely knew? Just a message in a sea floated off to find its destination to a boy a guy-- did Roland ever tell him his son's age? Tidus collects each of the readied wraps onto a plate, hoping that they won't be a pain to separate once it's their time. Edges somewhat trimmed and made more circular, their remnants made into a smaller, goofier wrap.

Or rather, saved for one of their pizza-wrap attempts. Another of the bases too, the leftover tomato sauce opened spooned out.

... ... but Roland sure is thinking hard about something over there, isn't he.

"Hey, don't forget the pancake. No napping on the job!"

Voidtrecker to Roland over there.

At the light reprimand, he shakes himself out of the stupor and falls back into the routine of pancake making: flipping it so the other side gets an equal amount of cook, despite the melted chocolate. Thankfully, it hasn't burned yet, though the golden brown turns into a deeper shade thanks to the additional sweets. The lowered heat keeps the pan at a careful temperature as his thinking resumes. What he looked like before...

Roland is silent for the most part, though his eyes don't leave Tidus's pizza-wrap-hybrid making station. Hands him some clean spoons, salt and pepper jars too in case he needs those to season the sauce, or whatever he'll be placing on the wraps. Checks on the dough balls too, still resting there and rising quite well thanks to the residual heat of the overall work area. Roland still hasn't spoken, more hums and nods than words coming out of him.

But when the pancake finishes, set on a plate and looking much like an animal with a face, though distorted from the first attempt, he finally speaks. Pancake plate to the side for now as one hand leans against the edge of the counter, hips to a slant while he faces Tidus.

"I think I can show you what I used to look like. But I'm not sure about it yet." A helpful offering. "It's been forever since I last held it." A vague offering? Roland turns his head and absent-mindedly twirls the plate clockwise, busying himself.

"Did Zanarkand have cellphones? Do you know what those are?"

Edited 2020-10-29 17:51 (UTC)

Never have someone been so reserved about showing themselves off. It gets Tidus thinking as Roland seems to deliberate on the idea. Can he shift himself from young to old? Maybe? Maybe not? Wait-- held what? Tidus has the tomato sauce and the salt and pepper besides him, his small finger dipped in for a taste to decide if he was happy with the flavouring. But-

"Cellphones? Like... in your data-tablets?" The clash of two languages, two worlds, trying to understand each other. "The phone option? Sure. But what about it?"

If they're even speaking the same language here, which they know they aren't, but maybe if they're close? But it's bizarre, since what does a phone have to do with how Roland looks?

(Roland offers him another clean spoon, with only a very light chiding of "Hey, don't use your fingers," though that has very little weight to it too. More important matters are being discussed; just that the habit is hard to break.)

Thankfully, Roland's owned a tablet too, so the technology might be similar in nature even if they're just named differently. Mobile innovations, communication. He nods, the closest Tidus might get to recognizing something from Roland's first world, and decides to busy himself again as he explains. The second batter of pancake hits the pan with a new ladle to the remaining butter, though the sizzle is more gentle now that the fire is low.

"Does a data-tablet have a camera function? Can it take videos and photos and save them in it for later viewing?" Which is where he was going with, really, not so much the texting and calling that other people might have assumed to be his point about bringing up the cellphone. The movement of making pancakes is a bit more fluid now, getting used to the routine. He places three dots in particular against the wet side again, forming another face. The previous spoon used to scoop out and dollop two circles against the top of the bigger circle - ears? Then the spoon molds the bottom half of the half-cooked pancake, as if creating a longer jaw. This he does, eyes focused on the pan, still as he speaks. Multitasking seems to come naturally to him, where it counts.

"...I remember I had my cellphone - or my data-tablet - with me when I first came to the second world. It was one of the first things I checked before things got crazy." A glance to the side, meeting Tidus's eye as his kitchen companion begins making pizza alongside him. The smell of the sauce is admittedly, a strangely complimenting aroma with the sweet pancake in his pan.

"If I'm not mistaken, I kept it in my Arms Band. But I need to think real hard to bring it out, if at all." If Tidus catches his drift; where Roland is going.

( YOU'RE NOT HIS DAD ROLAND. )

Tidus hums to Roland's initially questioning for confirmation, little finger in his mouth, the sauce now sucked off. Uses the back of the spoon spontaneously provided for no reason to transfer the tomato sauce from its bowl and onto the flat dough discs, spreading it out. His ears listening out when Roland speaks.

"You don't want to?" Why skirt around his meaning than just say it? If Roland knows it's in there, then that's not the obvious problem. It's forgetting what you have in there. But he does ask, with more thoughtfulness to it, sprinkling a handful of the peppers over the two prepared pizzas:

"You got other pictures on there?"

(Just use a serving teaspoon for things that might spoil fast!!!)

"...I don't remember, if I'm going to be honest with you." The pancake is flipped in the pan, and it's looking a little bit better than the first pass, cooling on the plate next to him. The heat is cranked up a bit again, his spatula just moving wayward pieces around in the browned butter. If Tidus meant incriminating pictures, then that would be a clear no.

"And it's not because I don't want to. I just..." But really, was it? The phone put on the very back of his mind since it was useless in the second world, then suddenly finding relevance as they discussed the pasts, where their fates might intertwine. Of letting go little by little, acceptance of their lives then, and how they had to move forward now. Maybe Roland just didn't want a reminder, constantly weighing down on his back pocket - the phone his constant companion on every trip, on every job. Not pictures, but messages, an inbox, emails, papers, scripts...Not Roland the Chief Consul, or Roland the Voidtrecker. Roland the president.

He takes the pancake out of the pan, puts it on top of the first piece, and the pan is removed from the heat for now. An intermission. He grows quiet again, closing his eyes and feeling his breath, in and out, in and out. It's not for anything, he reminds himself. It's just for a photo. Just to see; a mirror back into a past that had no magic, no soulmates, no void trains and all.

His right hand opens, palm facing ceiling, and he thinks harder. The year, the model, attempts to remember its shape and its color. Goes back to the first memory of holding it in an alien land, then again when he receives his first Arms Band. There - that's it, that's what it latches on too. Gold sparkle, familiar and true, successfully summoning what he didn't think to ever use again.

A modern day cellphone, scratches on the back, a slightly cracked screen but nothing too damaging. Roland is in slight awe, leaning back against the counter as the device is studied like a foreign object.

A little cheese is added, sliced mushrooms and the block of billy bear meat brought to the side to dice that, all the previous lot chopped up already added to Roland's rice. They'll need more, and it's getting a knife into that atop one of the cutting boards that Tidus notices the break that Roland's taken. He cuts into as much of the meat he thinks he'll need, cuts some way into it - but he's admittedly distracted. Taking glimpses at Roland, how long he's actually taking. Maybe he was being serious when he said he wasn't sure he could recall it.

And he starts to grow concerned, 'Roland?' on the end of his tongue when finally - the familiar glitter and gold, and there's something in his hand. Small and... thick? Thick for a data-tablet, even a phone! And from his section of the kitchen he stares, quizzical, unable to tell much about it from where he is, but-

"That's your...data-tablet?"

Why does it look like a brick.

Roland shoots Tidus a strange look, eyebrow quirked up as the phone is held up for him to study himself. "Yeah...Wait, what do they look like in your place? Is it a lot different than what I was expecting?" Not really too aware that Zanarkand was in fact, much more advanced in technology than Earth was despite being thousands of years - worlds, even - apart. Still, there's some recognition there so it's not a complete loss in translation.

He'll glance at the pizzas being assembled as his fingers find the indent in the side of the phone. A hard press to the button, a futile effort really, but it's something he wants to see for himself. He does this all the while watching more meat being cut, peppers and mushrooms being put on top of the meals. Roland's itching to ask who they're making it for, are they leaving it out for the train, but honestly he wanted pancakes for sentimental reasons. Who was he to judge? "Ever heard of pineapples on pizza?" Roland adds to the lull in the conversation, seeing as how many toppings were coming onto the board. He'll give up trying to understand the ebb and flow of this cooking session - not really caring anyhow. The company, the skill demonstration; it makes him happy to be a part of it.

The phone in his hand remains unlit and defunct. He shrugs and pockets it out of habit. "It's out of juice, so I'll charge it one of these days and show you. I'm pretty sure the pictures I kept here are still intact." And with that, the matter is sort of settled, Roland's conflicting feelings about finding what can be considered a relic at this point buried back beneath the activity, the hustle and bustle of making more food together. He won't return to the pancake station right away, assessing what he's made with a keen eye.

Eventually, Roland will clear his throat and show Tidus both pieces from the plate, like an exhibition. One was more well put together than the other, but overall, seemed amateurish at best.

"You said the Ronso are kind of like cats too, right? Any resemblance here?" Ah. Good attempts, though he may have given each too many emphasized feline features. And the fact that he's got nothing but his imagination to guide the pancake art...Yet Roland is compelled to try anyway. They can maybe taste it after the judging.

"Well, they're like..."

Wow, way to ask a question with too many questions. He raises his hand with the SCA.

"Some of them are just a wristband like this? Or you can install a pen to it, or an earpiece? Or even a ring version. And you just use whichever one and boot it up front of you."

He makes the shape of a square, a rectangle - is Roland getting the idea at all? And there's so many questions about how Roland's own data-tablet apparently works, but asks the question first while he finishes off with the bear meat.

"Pineapple? Uhhh... no? What's a pineapple?"

He doesn't know, Rol.

Tidus comes over however, with the two pizzas carefully plopped onto trays, ready to be put into the oven (along with the wraps themselves left bare), and Tidus looks at the -- faces? Yeah, faces, an astonished scoff leaving him before Roland even speaks.

"Uhhh... dunno. Not quite as chocolate-y around the face?" He grins, then, to carry it on: "Are you gonna eat your King Evan, Roland?"

And in the oven the trays can go, to cook off what are hopefully their successful attempts at wraps and pizzas.

Well, it's not hard to imagine that kind of tech existing in his world either - where mobile phones were linked to wristwatches and the like. If he's not mistaken, a lot of his counsel wore them too, bluetooth technology and all of that jazz? It's the ring version that gets him to make a face, imagining it and how convenient that would be. Perhaps it would be holographic tech then; how else would you call and type on it?

The pineapple bit though, receives not so much an incredulous look, but a shrug of one shoulder, an understanding that Spira just was not quite like Earth. In some ways similar, in other ways not. "It's a fruit. Sweet, tart, and yellow. Caused quite an uproar back home because some people liked it as a topping on their pizzas. Jury's still out if I'm a fan or not, though."

He sets the plate of pancakes down as the oven is put to use, and tears off an ear. He raises his eyebrows once as he eats, a sign of a challenge received, and chews a little more dramatically than is expected. A slight smirk resting on his lips, amused. "He'll understand. The needs of the people demand a taste test." He holds back a cough right after, and what might be the start of a laugh as he looks away, covering his mouth.

"...I can't believe I've still got it." Roland says, tearing off the second ear and offering it to Tidus. "It's just as bad as I remember it."

Too little sugar, which one might think the chocolate offsets, but the salt and the flour ratio was not doing it any favors either way. Now if this was a bowl of cereal...

...Did Roland really just pull an Earth injoke on him? Tidus blinks at his answer, mumbling in confirmation, but also realising there was an attempt to drag him into something he didn't get. Should he ask if there's any pineapples on board? Does he want to?? Please, Mister President!

He's got the non-pizzafied wraps to stick on the heat though, and with those still on their own tray, Roland fiddling with his pancakes, Tidus takes a second to make the transfer into the secondary frying pan not used for the chocolate, savoury treat. The cough of a laugh getting him to look over, between Roland and the grimmelkin...? now without an ear.

Two ears, with the second offered to him. He takes it, but eyes it and Roland.

"That's supposed to get me to eat it." Does he really dare? Really?

...

...

…of course he's doing it, he's holding it, he can't resist!

"Ugh!"

And there goes Tidus's face, scrunching in on itself, the back of his wrist covering his mouth as he chews. Barely.

"That's rank! Did you forget the sugar?! Ugghhhh-"

Does he have to swallow this?!

See, it's that reaction in particular, and the fact that Roland is already processing the aftertaste that gets him to laugh completely. It's softer than his chuckle surprisingly, and is the lightest his felt in a while. The only other time he's laughed, during the Purple mixer, but that was a lifetime and a half ago at this point. He turns his face away, eventually sounds reverting to silence. Lasting for a couple of seconds before he wipes his hand down on his apron, facing Tidus again as the final remains of the pancake is swallowed.

"Such honesty. Thanks for not...sugar-coating it." He shakes his head, and goes in for another piece??? Or just the crumbs left on the plate right now, nibbling on more chocolate than the actual pancake itself. How could the butter on the frying pan fail him too? The mystery continues.

"I always forget one or two ingredients with this. One time, I forgot baking soda, so the pancake just looked like the wraps we're making now. It never bubbled or raised." He shakes his head. Maybe the second pancake tasted better? Sorry for tearing your jaw off, Mr. Ronso! This one is eaten too, but it's really no better. Only more chocolate on it, melted and the last saving grace to a failed batter. "The other time, I forgot flour altogether and used cornstarch. It was a complete disaster."

See what we mean here! For someone so good at keeping track of things and listing down when he can, Roland's ultra-focused attitude makes him prone to kitchen mistakes. Plus, a lack of overall experience, unlike Tidus who had developed some form of intuition for cooking even as he freestyled recipes.

He's actually eating another piece!! Which isn't that surprising, he's sure eaten some lacklustre recipe results, but that isn't going to stop Tidus from suggesting- "You don't wanna pour sugar on that first? How about some syrup."

Anything to give it a taste other than blergh.

But Roland can be happy to know Tidus didn't spit out his bite, indeed swallowing it. Next to him the wraps start to heat up, quiet as it cooks.

"I think I'm going straight to the council to ban you from the kitchen. From cooking ever again. That's got to be a crime." He gestures over to the pancake. "I mean, you didn't even get it to stick! That's usually the hardest part about a pancake."

Ugh, and worst of all- "I even let you waste my chocolate on it."

Just lock this guy up now.

"Hey, the chocolate and candy is always the finishing touch!" He says in mock offense, a finger pointed at his direction, not quite wagging but it's the play-acting that makes it obvious. "In fact, it's so integral to the Crane family recipe that it's the only parts Will eats when he can't pretend to like it anymore."

He can't believe his son knew how to lie at such a young age - but maybe that was the fun of it all? The fondness was there, before the worst of times came. That's what he clung to. He takes the bowl of the batter, halfway done now, thankfully the ratio just right that he didn't waste too much of the dry ingredients, and motions at it while they watch the wraps continue to cook.

"You think you can help me fix this before you ask our local politicians to ban me from this place? Come on, you're a pro here too, right?" Roland offers it up again, with both hands around the body of the bowl like he's asking for a treat. Tidus was a multitasking fiend in this kitchen, don't tell him he won't do it while the wraps were being done too!

"And pass up seeing you in the slammer for your crimes?" He's taking the bowl as he says it, not worried about the wraps - all they need is the heat and to be turned over now and then. "I'm doing this for the pancakes. Not you. Never ask me for chocolate again."

And with such a severe-toned statement given, Tidus walks over to where they've left the sugar, winging how much they'll need to safe the mix. But he has a vague idea of what pancakes usually take, isn't afraid to get some stuck in there and then whisk it together, rattling the sides of the bowl as he walks back over to the stove and Roland.

"Will'll thank me one day. I'm gonna get you a book on pancakes. Nothing but pancakes."

A pause.

"Well, and brownies too. And cookies."

"...I didn't know you felt so strongly about seeing me chained up behind bars, Tidus." Roland quips sarcastically, but allowing Tidus full reign on rectifying the recipe. It's all in his hands now - and goodness, was it right to add that much sugar to pancakes? Was that what Roland was missing all along? A heavy hand on sugary treats? For shame.

"Maybe baking might fare better with me. It's an exact science, right? Can't go wrong when you follow the steps and measure correctly." Which is where the spirit of cooking lacks, at least for him and all the little ad libs Tidus is so comfortable doing that Roland has forgotten about his own habit of taking down notes for later reading. Forgotten that as they began this whole thing, he was already itching to measure everything from the start.

"At least take back what you said about the chocolate." Roland stifles a chuckle, and turns his attention to the wraps while they switch places. Heated just right, so he transfers it out for another cold one. Motions for the dough - the focaccia - with a tilt of his chin. That one's ready, thereabouts? "I'm in such a sorry state of finances that I can't even afford the common candy treat at the store." Pity him. Woe is the broke president.

Stop being a stiff about the sugar, Roland!!

The pancake mix is quick and easy to stir, and with it looking about ready, Tidus gives some grease to the pan for it. Bowl set down to the side, while he uses a ladle to pour out the batter into the pan waiting, stirring it around to make it into a circular shape.

He gives Roland a quick 'in a sec' regarding the bread dough, while he checks out this pancake. A small snort as the man continues on with the dramatics of a pointless soul.

"You got a spending problem there, pal? There's people who like to buy-buy-buy... you need someone to take away your ticket from you? Maybe I'll..."

He hums, watching as the pancake begins to form a body, the liquid gone.

"...give you it back, at bed times. Then you have to give it to me for the rest of the day."

Is this a new type of jail? Also, watch Tidus get ready for a cool flip--!!!

--and make his pancake fold in half. GUH. Nearly!! Let's just straighten that out...!

He reaches for the dough ball anyway, just so it's closer to them now. The texture ultimately changed, now softer and more airy, done with its first rise. Not that Roland would know if took more than one rise to get bread to a perfect consistency when baked, but for now it's there and Tidus has easy access to his focaccia in the making.

This would also be quite the perfect time to scoff at Tidus's similar antics, but he's not the type to go that far. Instead, Roland just replies with a tinge of amusement, a loud breath exhaled. "Did you just threaten to ground me?" Who's the old man, now??? "Funny."

Roland's words aren't as sarcastic as they were intended to be though, because when he has that window, he stares at the first attempt to do a flip. Then the second, if it comes right after. Tidus isn't quite doing it like the cartoons, pancakes flipped into half-crescents instead.

"...That's cheating, by the way." He remarks. Can't straighten them out like that, dude! Do it right!!

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