13. Absurd Requests
The reference photo attached to the cake order was the ugliest thing Isaac had ever seen. The client had managed to pick the worst possible combination of colors, then proceeded to take that awful combination and lay them out in a way that perfectly highlighted how ill fitting they were. He was half tempted to reject the order solely because he wasn’t sure he could handle staring at the hideous design for that long without clawing his eyes out, but it was a rather large cake with three tiers, and aesthetic mental damage aside, it was relatively easy to decorate compared to other cakes in that price range.
He typed out a confirmation message before he could have more doubts, then turned away to continue decorating his current order. He’d deal with that monstrosity later.
Isaac picked up his half cut bubble straws and snipped off all the ends so that they were equal in length to the cake’s height. He then stepped up to the bottom tier of the cake he was working on (already fully covered in butter cream and smoothed to perfection) and carefully inserted the straws in a circular pattern at the cake’s center. Once he was satisfied with their placement, next came the nerve wracking process of stacking the second tier. The cake board shook a bit in his hands as he slowly lowered it until his fingers were almost touching the bottom tier. Then, he quickly released the cake board, and the top tier sank fully down so that it was resting snugly atop the bottom layer.
Isaac took a few moments to squint at the cake, not celebrating just yet. Once, he’d set the top tier down and it had seemed fine. The moment he’d turned away, the board had gone crooked, one of the straws bent, and the cake had gone crashing to the ground. That was back when he’d used regular straws; the bubble straws were, thankfully, much more sturdy.
Once he was satisfied that the cake wasn’t about to topple over and that the top layer was indeed in the center and not crooked, he reached for his piping bag. When his hand was an inch away, a sudden shrill ringing made him jump. He spun around, reached over, and hit the glowing screen of his tablet that was lying on the other end of the counter. One second later, Lilith’s cheery voice filled the small kitchen.
“Yoo-hoo, how’s my favorite Traveler been?”
“That’s not a compliment when the only other option is Fable.” He grabbed his piping bag and stepped back over to the cake. The tablet was always on speaker. This wasn’t by choice, but by design.
“Well, I think it’s quite high praise, so you should be grateful!”
Isaac rolled his eyes as he began piping rosettes, slowly covering the bottom tier of the cake. “What do you want? Another request?”
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“No, actually. It’s even better!”
Isaac hummed to indicate he was listening.
“You see, I’ve been getting some complaints lately. Absolutely preposterous, I know.“
“So very preposterous.”
“Exactly! Anyway, people keep saying their fight results aren’t accurate because their charm or whatever isn’t factored in.”
Isaac paused, frowning. “What does that even mean?”
“It means, silly, that one of the titans sent me a very passionate letter claiming there was no way she would lose half her fights because she’s, I quote, ‘so charming most of these bastards couldn’t even hit me.’ Now, she’s not the first one to say something similar, and after some consideration, I thought: well, clearly the citizens of the Underside are unhappy with the current system, and being the benevolent god I am—“
Isaac didn’t like where this was going.
“—I decided I ought to fix this! And so, I’ve decided to add a Charisma stat!”
Isaac choked, followed immediately by a swear when he ended up squeezing too hard on the piping bag, leaving a large lump of butter cream on the cake. He hurriedly grabbed a paper towel and carefully wiped that part off, releasing a relieved sigh once the spot was clear again. He picked up the piping bag again, this time squeezing much more carefully.
“How would that even work? Don’t we already have skills for that?” Lucius, he remembered, had some sort of charisma skill, and he wasn’t the only one either. There were a whole slew of them in multiple different variations.
“We do! Unfortunately those are only for the top of the top, the most charismatic of the charismatic, the charmingest—“
“Okay I get it.”
“Yes, well, we might as well make it universal. Isn’t this exciting! You must be bored doing updates all the time, right? Consider this an opportunity to flex your wings, expand your horizons!”
Isaac frowned and straightened as he finished the last rosette, eyeing the covered cake critically as he scanned it for any empty spaces. He didn’t see how this was any better than what he usually did; he would still be wandering around tracking people down, only this time he’d have to talk to everyone.
“And how exactly are you planning on judging people’s charisma anyway?”
“Ah. You see, Isaac dear, I was going to leave that to you. Figure out a measurement system, report it back to me, and I’ll implement it! Easy, right?”
“No? What the fuck?”
“Oh, and this is urgent, so I expect you to come up with a solution within the week.”
“Listen—“
“I can’t wait to hear back from you!”
Isaac spun around just in time to see the tablet screen fade back to black. He stomped over and tapped it, aggressively scrolling to Lilith’s name and hitting the ‘call’ button. A minute passed—no answer.
Groaning, Isaac stared mournfully at the half decorated cake sitting innocuously on the counter. He spent the next hour finishing the rest of the piping as slowly as possible, savoring his last moments of peace and quiet before he grabbed the tablet, shoved it into his coat pocket, and stomped his way over to the subway station.