Mortals Meet Percabeth

Camille Blanc

A/N: The way I was so tempted to put a picture of Marinette on here and call it a day. 

Out of all the classes I have the privilege to teach, my senior baking class is my favorite.

Honestly, it's quite the simple decision because for one, I have no love for teaching, for two, it's quite crude to hate teaching grandmas and grandpas, and three, Jack is in that class.

De toute façon, bonjour, je m'appelle Camille. (That's "anyway, hello, my name is Camille" in French)

I'm a French pastry chef and when I'm not baking the perfect macarons or the most beautiful croquembouche you've ever seen, I'm teaching baking classes.

And of course, make no mistake, I adore my job. I have always aspired to be a professional pastry chef. And if teaching...others is what I must do, then so be it.

Besides, it's only temporary. I'm waiting to go to Paris, and attend the pastry school of my dreams: Le Cordon Bleu.

But for now, I am a teacher.

The thing that frustrates me the most is the lack of talent. I get that that sounds brutal, but it's true.

See, baking has always been my "wow factor". My grand-mère always said I had that certain je ne sais quoi that just shined through when I baked. But let me tell you, the poor souls that are looking for french pastry lessons from a twenty-something-year-old most certainly do not have that. Some of the people I teach...should pursue some of their other talents.

Regardless, I love teaching senior citizens. They're so innocent, and some of them are also lacking in the talent department, but their sweet dispositions make it impossible to be frustrated with them.

And also, Jack, who's a man that looks like literal art, is in my senior citizen class.

And you may be wondering why, pray tell, is a man of his age (twenty-something, I believe), in a baking class for seniors?

Well, according to Jack at least, he's quite busy so my morning senior baking class on the weekdays is the only time that works out for him. But I like to believe it's because he gets more one-on-one time with me.

Jack's a little bit strange (like dyes all his desserts blue, even though the recipe literally never calls for blue food dye), and he is definitely one of those who wasn't born with a natural aptitude for baking, but his enthusiasm and good looks well make up for that.

Honestly, I've been wanting to ask Jack out on a date for a while now, or at least express how I felt about him. I'd been thinking about inquiring about his relationship status for quite some time now, but it would be quite improper of me, or perhaps downright scandalous, to ask a client/student about such a personal matter simply to pursue my own selfish desires.

So it does seem that I will have to wait until he completes this course.

But alas, we are not even halfway through yet, so I suppose I will get by on these once-a-week, slightly-less-than-professional interactions.

Today, he was early.

It was quite peculiar, as Jack was often right on time, if not late, to my class, but I welcomed his presence. I quite liked our conversations and enjoyed spending time with him, perhaps because of this little infatuation.

I was standing at the counter, finishing piping some eclairs we were to sell today when he walked in.

"Hey, Camille. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." he said.

I looked up from my eclairs and smiled at him. "Hi, Jack. You're not interrupting anything. Just finishing up these pastries. Prepared for class?"

Jack gave an awkward sort of laugh and scratched his neck, glancing at the ground. "About that."