"That's about the only thing Crowley and I can agree on." Scarlett spitting out his name with disdain. It was going to be a long while before she'd ever be able to hear that name without the urge to hit something.

She supposes that's something at least, that he has enough of himself to want some kind of revenge on them. There aren't many people here that she would say are better off dead, but he might be one of the only ones to change that view for her.

"It's not as hard as you'd think. Just some flour and - milk is better but water will do. Butter if you have it. Oil will work in a pinch if you don't. A bit of salt." He'd catch the small smile that crooks the corner of her mouth, another memory playing through her mind. "My Dad - he'd... send me out into the woods with nothing but a handful of supplies. I'd always hunt or find what I could but that didn't always work out. Damper would keep me from going hungry. You mix it up, wrap it in foil and chuck it on fire."

She hesitates at the sink then glances back over her shoulder. Looking at him without fully meeting his gaze. "I can teach you if you want."