Anon - “hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell cooking
burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this”
The god awful smell of something burning wafted into Oliver’s apartment as he sat on the couch watching the Hawks take on the Kings that evening. Dinner had been eaten and cleaned up over an hour ago, and now he was free to enjoy the game with a beer and the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. A weekend free of responsibilities awaited him, and he was going to enjoy it, damn it!
But that smell… Dear god, it was terrible! Oliver stood up, setting his beer down on the coffee table in front of him, and went to investigate where it was coming from. There was a distinct odor to it, one of burnt eggs possibly? It definitely wasn’t wood, he was sure of that. No, this was food. As he followed the scent trail to his front door, it got stronger. Then he realized it was coming from one of the apartments down the hall.
Opening the door, Oliver stuck his head out to investigate. The scent became stronger, and as he glanced around, he saw wisps of smoke coming from the apartment across from his. He immediately ran up to the door and knocked. After a few moments, it opened to reveal a tiny little blonde woman with glasses and blue eyes, a spatula in her hand. Her clothes were covered in what had to have been flour while there was a smudge of something brown on her chin.
“Hi, we’re neighbors and… Oh, my god! Are you alright?” Oliver asked as soon as he took one look at her. “I could smell something burning from across the hall in my apartment.”
“Oh, this is so embarrassing,” the woman replied, slapping her free hand against her forehead as she closed her eyes. Her face contorted in a mortified frown. “I’m so sorry,” she added, her eyes still screwed shut. “I swear, I was just trying to make breakfast for tomorrow, but I have failed horribly and now I don’t know what to do because everyone’s bringing something to the office potluck and I can’t cook to save my life!”
Oliver glanced around her apartment, spotting the remains of what appeared to be a burnt cake sitting on top of the kitchen counter. Glancing down at the woman and seeing that she was now looking down at her toes, he decided to take pity on her. Besides, if there was one thing he could do well, it was cook. “Step aside, I’ll handle this,” he said, brushing past her and stepping straight into her kitchen.