The joke was over. It was way, way past over. Okay, Gabriel could appreciate something that was put together well, even if he was the butt of it. There was something to be said for style in a prank.

This was not stylish.

Gabriel stared at the shiny metal counters. For once he felt flummoxed. Almost flummoxed. Not actually flummoxed. He didn't get flummoxed. You know, except when he got shoved into a dimension where he was human and had been in stasis for one-hundred-fifty years and oh, by the way, was supposed to be some kind of genius baker except for the fact that he didn't know how to bake.

Which meant that work had ostensibly started an hour ago and Gabriel hadn't even opened a drawer to get out so much as a stirring-spoon.