The next day, in Felicia the head cook's own house…
She still remembers the directive Zach gave her last night.
"Our dessert offerings are a little stale. Can you please spice them up? I don't care what desserts you'll be adding to the menu, as long as they don't look out-of-place in our establishment."
"Y-Yes, sir."
Essentially, she's now brainstorming for ideas.
Even though she isn't given a deadline, she still feels the pressure.
Because if she screws up, she'll possibly take down the entire establishment with her.
Her mind then wanders to her own past, where she, as a young kid, used to wander around in the kitchen alongside her mother and aunt, who were excellent home cooks and were her main sources of inspiration.
Their combined skills were second to none, and none of their dishes were bad. As in... horrendously bad.
They especially excelled in desserts, and whatever country that dessert came from, they were always prepared with the greatest love and care.
And with that mind wandering, she finally finds several inspirations.
One of those inspirations is a specific cake recipe she inherits from her aunt, and she's not afraid to put her own spin on it.
With the various kitchen equipment at her disposal, she's ready to make the desserts that will be breakout hits among the customers.
She also stares at a well-used but still beautiful plate, which is a keepsake from her aunt, to remind herself of where she came from.
"I hope I won't disappoint you," she vows.
***
After our performance tonight, we chill out at the bar.
And look who's making a comeback.
It's Susan Sonora and her pet chihuahua Ronald.
We three, as well as Laurent, all greet them in coincidental harmony...
"Welcome back!"
She preemptively explains the reason for her comeback.
"Oh, I just wanted to celebrate the promotion of my husband. He's now the managing director of Juandale Kiriringle, Inc., a local snacks company."
Leigh asks her, "Congrats to your husband! Where is he, by the way?"
"Oh, over there," she answers while pointing at a table on the second row. "Just celebrating with good old booze alongside his buddies."
"Well then…" Laurent cuts in, "your ever-loyal chihuahua must celebrate alongside you and your husband only in a way he can. With his favorite low-alcohol martini, shaken, not stirred, as usual."
And as if like clockwork, the bartender presents the drink.
As Ronald is happily drinking the martini like it's no one else's business, I ask Susan.
"Well, besides the promotion of your husband, anything else you want to talk about?"
"Ah yes, Mister Fred. It's about those road restoration projects happening here in Atlanta. Let me summarize it for you, loves. Civil engineering is superior to architecture."
"Why's that?"
"Oh, it's just a social media post from my civil engineer friend. But that's because he has a good-enough reason to say that. He's now part of a project that will transform Atlanta into a bike-friendly city, not just a car-friendly one."
"Tell me more about it."
"You know the thing about Amsterdam and other Dutch cities? They're now the epicenter of bike activity in Europe. And with that, human interaction is at an all-time high, which greatly reduces people's feelings of loneliness and all that nastiness that comes with it."
As we are still talking to Susan, there is something developing.
From the table nearest us, we can hear an argument that is gradually heating up.
"You're dictating them on which candidate they prefer. And that's your style. So why shouldn't you poke your nose into their own private lives, huh? I'll be honest with you: The problem with the likes of you is that you're too self-righteous. You see someone who doesn't support the candidate you're simping for? You automatically dictate them as morally wrong, and they need to be punished."
"What dictate-dictate? I chose with my own conscience the one I'll vote next year! I'll vote anyone but that scion of the country's most-hated political family, who faked his degree and sniffed on cocaine!"
"And who will you vote for instead? That woman lawyer? With allegations of vote buying when she was still a senator, plus subpar vice-presidential accomplishments?
"That boxer? Education is a very big question. Plus, all those injuries he sustained from million-dollar bouts should make him ineligible for jobs that require great amounts of thinking.
"That former police chief? The controversy where he was involved in the brutal killing of several gangsters is the greatest skeleton in his closet...
"That mayor? Very close to a communist terrorist, and is politically inexperienced?
"Come on, it is easy to say that you stole something... But the burden of the truth lies with the accuser… It's a VERY basic principle in law, you know.
"If my preferred candidate wasn't implicated in the budget appropriations issue, shouldn't he be convicted in the first place?"
As the other party just falls silent after that long-winded rant, he comes up with a response less than a minute later, now laced with beer breath.
"How much did they pay you?"
"First of all, I'm a licensed architect. I don't need money that came from thieves, and I haven't decided yet whom will I vote in the elections. Are you really that shallow-minded?"
"Sure, you puking hell-hated pigeon-egg. I believe what you say. If you're really a licensed architect, then my girlfriend is Liza Soberidge. No one can confirm if that's true… heh heh heh heh."
"Oh, that mouth of that lawyer is so big, several flies can fit inside it."
"Grr! How can you insult my chosen candidate like that?!"
"Don't you see in the papers and in photos online? She really has a big mouth, that not just flies fit inside it, but also bats."
"Gragh! Now you're really asking for it, you pathetic anti-yellow!"
"Hey, the word 'yellow' is outdated already. Use instead the magic word... 'Karen'."
Again, the table falls silent as the man who was referred to as a "Karen" is raring for a beat-down.
Aurora's reaction to that boiling-point argument?
"Hmph. Doesn't this just beat all? Customers arguing over politics. Meanies."
The situation at the table is getting more tense...