The first thing Gabriel chose to open was the fridge, hoping that, perhaps, there might be a sample of exactly what they were supposed to bake. (He was allowed. It was apparently his kitchen. And he was hungry.) There was plenty of food in there, but none of it was in the state of amalgamation needed to make delicious baked goods.

With a sigh Gabriel slammed the door shut and turned to hear the sound of singing. He paused for a moment, head tilted to listen, and then grinned almost viciously, following the voice to the storeroom.

"Three what?" he asked, bracing himself on both sides of the frame and leaning into the entrance. "Three little pigs? Three bears? Three fairies?"

The lad had good nerves. That would make things a little more fun. Gabriel chose to take it as a challenge. "I should have guessed. Peacekeepers always get the short end of the stick," he said with a smirk as he pushed off the door-frame and strolled into the room with his hands behind his back, as if on an inspection.

"Noah," he said a little dismissively in response, examining the shelves and the racks and huffing when he found nothing he could conceivably eat. Oh, wait a minute--

"Hah!" Gleefully he snatched up the package of cooking chocolate and tugged it open with a practised yank. "And your other name, Dario?" He rolled the R a bit, half mocking and half just to play with the sound.

Of course, he wasn't necessarily going to return the favour. The Workers had said not to advertise his 'imaginary' name. Well, he wasn't, was he? They couldn't book him for that. (Even though Noah kind of was, according to some denominations. Who was going to know? Loki would be more obvious.)

"Probably a good thing," Gabriel said with a shrug and a false little shudder. "Without peacekeepers we'd have wars and things." There was still an odd cadence to the man's voice which made Gabriel wish he could read his soul. Maybe 'peacekeeper' meant something else wherever he was from.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, I really think I do." So saying, he fished for a couple of the chocolate pieces and tossed them into his mouth. He let out a blissful, only slightly exaggerated sigh and leaning back against the shelves. "I mean, what's the point in being a baker if you can't sample the fixings every now and then?"

Gabriel smiled darkly. "You wouldn't believe the places I've worked." And then abruptly the smile turned into a sunny grin, the apparent emotional change so fast that it could have given someone whiplash. "Then I decided I'd be better off doing my own thing."

As if to pinpoint his words, he tossed a few more chocolate chips into his mouth and then added thoughtfully, "And it depends on what the wars about and who the players are."

"I don't die so easily," was Gabriel's simple, smirking answer. He wasn't going to let on that he had no idea if that applied here, because he was depressingly human, but at the same time, did it matter? He still knew how to survive, and he'd already died once because he'd ignored those skills. Deliberately, but still.

Although that did say a lot about the man that he expected theft would result in execution.

"About what?" he asked innocently. "About Diamond City, or my 'dreams', or baking or fairy-tales or the Art as Dictated by the Kama Sutra?"

"That might actually be somewhat fun," Gabriel mused. Sure, there was a risk of getting hurt and dying, but he'd already done that once already and even as a human he had some tricks up his sleeves. It was better than the dead boringness of an empty bakery he was expected to fill. (The chocolate chips, at least, were fast disappearing.)

"All of it," Gabriel said unhelpfully. "What do you remember?"

If there had been a sun, it would have continued to soar overhead. As there wasn't, or at least not one that could be seen, the hours just passed from when work-time started. Not exactly uneventfully, however. At least, not for the bakery.

There was a crash somewhere in the kitchen, followed by a curse in a language most people definitely wouldn't recognise, seeing as how it was the language of the angels. A moment later Gabriel's head poked through the door. "Just a minute!"

And then vanished again a split-second later, leaving a puff of flour drifting to the floor.

It was the bowls. And the measuring cups. And ... everything. Forget about the recipes; Gabriel was having trouble with the whole measurements thing. The flour kept sliding out of the package faster than it should, and then of course he'd have too much flour, so he'd have to put more chocolate chips and everything else into it ...

The kitchen had the faint scent of something burning lingering around, though fortunately the fans had taken care of most of it.

Muttering to himself in Enochian, Gabriel snapped his fingers rapidly at the flour on the floor, gave up and got the broom. A few minutes later it was in a neat pile in the dustpan and he was able to shake it out of his hair and clothes. That didn't stop him from still looking a bit dusty as he came out of the kitchen and leaned on the counter, looking the girl over. She was pretty. Then again, she was human. He did tend to try to keep his antics to people more on his level, like gods, or people who didn't really exist at all, like his constructs.

Neither of which apparently existed here in the least. Damn.

"Usually I'd be delighted to render my services to a young lady such as yourself," he said glibly. "But the cook's having some memory trouble at the moment, so if it's actual edible food you want, you'll have to come back in about a thousand years."

At that he gave her another considering gaze. In a week he'd managed to throw off the urge to squint for a person's soul, for the most part, except when he was actually trying to look for it on instinct--like now. So he squinted, caught himself squinting, and rolled his eyes while heaving a sigh.

"That's me. Or so they tell me. Pretty sure they didn't mention a daughter. Or jailbait. Although technically speaking I suppose you're legal, depending on the culture and era."

"Well, of course I'm not." Gabriel lifted an eyebrow and grinned. "I've already got kids, and none of them look like you." Sort of. So to speak. Adopted kids, anyway, from when he started borrowing Loki's name. Hey, he was a shapeshifter; who was gonna know?

... Aside from Kali. And all the gods she told. Who were now dead, so it didn't matter much.

He pursed his lips and hummed a little as if in thought, but then the next moment shrugged. "Doesn't ring a bell. So you're believing this old shtick, are you?"

They'd have to do a lot better than this before they got him to play along. He'd just broken out of his habits of a ... well, not an angel's lifetime, but two thousand years. He wasn't going to be stuffed inside someone else's life again so easily.

"But where would be the fun if I didn't?" he asked with a grin. "Boundaries are my favourite places. You figure out how to push them and where without anyone seeing."

And if someone appeared at his door, he'd know for certain they were spying. Besides, what could they do to him? He was still an angel. Okay, powerless and trapped in his meatsuit, but still an angel, and an archangel at that. He was either already dead or Dad wouldn't let him die again in some warped reality. Right? (He felt a pang of doubt he didn't show.)

Gabriel laughed at the way her clumsy attempt to convey her thoughts, waving a hand. "Oh, please, don't strain yourself. I get your point."

He left vague exactly which point was made.

"I say many things," Gabriel told her, "but I can't guarantee that'll be one of them." Especially if he needed someone to blame. What, he couldn't keep a checklist to point fingers at? If he was gonna prank someone he may as well keep his options open. Throwing them to the wolves might the only means he had.

"I think I'm going to learn to bake a cake," Gabriel said thoughtfully, and gave her a wink that was playful, but not really flirtatious. "Suggestions for the shape?"