[center] [h1] [color=d72525] Sergio della Gherardesca[/color] [/h1] [/center]

[color=d72525] "Abele, I know what an egg is." [/color]

He holds it like he was showing a child something - I half hope he has a muscle spasm and crushes it in his hand.

[color=7B68EE] "Yeah? I was worried all that living with these fancy maids made you forget." [/color] He spins it on a fingertip, olive features smirking smugly at me.[color=7B68EE] "In any case, this, fratello, is your best friend." [/color]

[color=d72525] "I suppose it talks less than you do." [/color]

He finally frowns, cracking the egg and pouring its contents into the clay bowl on the table in front of us, using the edge of the bowl to make the crack.

[color=7B68EE]"Without this you have nothing, Sergio. Your desserts for your belladonna, they will fall apart without something holding them together. This is the glue to keep that dream alive."[/color]

My eyes are halfway rolled into my head - I wonder if my lectures are as flowery and pretentious as his. The yellow blob in the center of the clear slime surrounding it bounces as Abele slams his hands on the table to try and grab my attention.

[color=7B68EE]"I am deadly serious, Sergio, listen!"[/color] He clicks his fingers at me, an azure lock dangles in front of his face.

[color=d72525][i]Fine. I'll humour him.[/i][/color]

[color=7B68EE]"Now, in a lot of ways baking isn't so far from making love to a beautiful wo-"[/color]