Anyone would take great pride in mastering a few skills or so in the art of homemaking. Lola had great teachers throughout the years. Between her Mom who was a Southern transplant, to her late father who was a Jamaican immigrant that managed to find what his version of the American dream was, passed along dishes and stories from their respective backgrounds. Both helping in patching together a missing source of what identity would mean to her. With biological similarities in her parents paralleling to the adoptive couple who raised her, she felt that as an adult, especially during the years of charting unknown territory when it came to figuring out where she was and who she wanted to be, the luck of the draw came with self-discoveries that not only inherit the customs for which she once did not appreciate as well, but the new ones that came from a lineage that was not fully her own.

A woman of direct African ancestry lived in her mind, spirit, and had part of her physical form for the longest. A pair that were both their separate selves but all one in the same. The chase for knowledge that went beyond the borders she lived through all of these years, came together whether in the garden, the office, kitchen, or sitting in a shared couch with a child passing down the same. It lived through the hands that were fierce enough to command elemental forces and soft enough to mold a piece of dough. For which was one of the simpler lessons in the baking of a pie. Not that she wanted to toss Theo to the culinary wolves with a complex dish, it became a study of general do work and how the basics could be shifted into a source of other foods that brought an honest worth and warmth to the belly.

She let the dough rest, wiping off the excess flour that had already marked the workspace. Moving down to check on the pupil of the time being, hands fell to the back of her hips, looking over with squinted eyes more than anything. "Don't overwork the dough too much. After it rests for a bit, it'll be blind baked. Meanwhile, we'll get all the veggies, chicken, dairy and extras together to build the filling." She had on a borrowed apron that was an extra accent from the regular cooks who worked the floor of the kitchen. A place that got busy during the open hours. It was near 6pm, just three hours since the place closed for the day. Only to re-open the following morning for preparations and the early morning shift. There was some faith that belonged to a diner that had been open for a month. Discovering what worked and did not on a daily had been one of the few challenges she looked forward to but also setting up a devout set of regulars that could appreciate what dedication, love and reflection of various parts of heritage she wanted to share.

There were clean kitchen towels thrown over the resting dough, and she made sure to push them to the side while making use of the area. It was an appreciated effort to get a kitchen that was helpful in not only hosting the cooks that worked the earlier shifts but also for the classes that were held once a week. It meant a lot to be able to provide a proper space to let culinary skills to persist and to bang out the best of what Al's had to offer as far as the menu was concerned. Since they needed the veggies, the deep fridge wasn't far away. Some of the veggies were prepared from previous prep work that went unused, making the process easier to deal with.

A large pot was on one of the open eyes not far across from the station they were working from. "I do." Was more than what she wanted to say. Not going into detail of how she came into it as the deed along with other important documentation, setting off an exploration of what to make of the diner that was once dated interior now renewed. "It's a great space. No complaints from the cooks. They feel like they can do real good work around here and I want that for them. The food comes out well and the customers so far enjoy it. What can I say? A lady is hashtag blessed." She smirked and showed the way.

Not wanting to take long after rummaging through the walk in fridge, she made sure to keep the door open after pointing to what was required that wasn't a pantry item. "This part should be the easiest."

"Taking your time will make the steps easier to handle. I promise you," and it was one she would have to heavily assist. Long enough not to cause anything to really burn or worst, blow up. Not that she was prone to doing any of those things, the kind of resolve she had for patience and obtaining a level head while cooking, came with trying to keep the lid on her own pot so to speak. When one small and minute thing had the ability to drive her over the edge. She declined. Fighting for that degree of control so that the region wouldn't see their version of a tsunami rising over the bay. Gathering near the workspace, where boards were present along with the veggies and other ingredients in their containers.

She stood at his side with some space in between. Offering to pass over the supported vegetables for the filling of the dish. "You should. Chopped, so as bite cubed size as possible. It would be easier with a bag of mixed frozen veggies, but it doesn't taste as great." It wasn't until she would began with the onions to limit the tears exposed while he got to the carrots, and squinted at the lack of release from the knife in hand. "Here, let me." For someone who only heard about the symptoms Theo was experiencing, she sure did know how to access some remedy for it. Cautiously, she reached for his hand to hold. At least as careful as she could since he was weidling a sharp object. "Breathe in deep and exhale. Close your eyes. Relax."

The way to relax was from person to person. And where she had answers that ranged from mentally forcing it to actually finding relaxation aides, they were up for sharing most of the time. Like clockwork and on time, her asking of him to take his breathing cautiously or at least leave the pressure where it deemed unwelcomed as the least that she could do. But unbeknownst to him, the climate controlled air was having a moment. The mild but comfortable temperature was thanks to the walking thermostat right near him, as the molecules in the air seemed to dwindle a bit. Slowing down just enough to create a mild like climate that lowered just under 65 degrees. Usually with the ovens in preheat mode or the stove having been used not too long before they took over the kitchen, the heat in the kitchen rose just over 70 and sometimes higher depending on what appliance was on or how many bodies were in. When the release wasn't making headway, she twisted her head a bit.

Eying him with some form of suspicion but it was clearly to clasp on the psionic link between matter of an elemental force and generating what was be the perfect source of climate for someone to better mellow out. "Just breathe with me," she requested with the embrace of a gentle wind. "Counting backwards may also help but please refrain from going into a panic. There's a sharp object in your hand and explaining away an unfortunate accident may not um make a case." As deeply as those words could ring more true for herself because of multiple reasons, it made sense as a forewarning to drive home the severity of what he was wielding and without the option of putting it down. She stepped away just enough, not wanting to be a smothering cloud. Yet still very much orchestrating from the subconscious of the way the room was shaping up to be climate wise.

Praying and wishing that this man's hand would release was a very long mantra that she had in her mind. The multiple occurrences of tasking one thing over the other, was poetically orchestrated. How she did it day in and day out was unprecedented and never once was she steered further and further away from the light. The Big Brother of her kind had much to explore and discover for understanding, but that alone fell into too many questionable and morally corrupt directions that steered her very clear from letting the world catch her fully slipping. Lola had patience, more than she cared to but this was a precarious situation that could turn many ways if one mistake had shaped in poor favor. She would have hate to send a charge right through him, especially with metal in his hand despite the handle being of plastic. Just to let it go in the event a slip occurred. Her eyes gave a soft narrow. Virtually suggesting to continue onward or at least give into the might of the air that had the most comforting effect. Even being as close as she was there was a fragrance of ozone and elements at its most natural base drifted off of her being.

Lola wondered how it felt to be a negotiator or worse, just general authority trying to talk someone off a ledge. When that ledge looked like it would swallow someone whole with a scoop of the wind, the outcome tore at her with no mercy. She followed the drop of the knife on the workstation and tried to brush her hands against the apron to do away of the sweat that was revealing itself on her palms. A sign of stress mounting and a fail could snap the control right out of her to act on a whim faster than lightning. Her eyes rinsed in a blink, widening at the success at which he was freed from being a natural adhesive to anything he touched. While the idea worked, she wasn't ready for the sudden hug that leapt from him. "Oh..no. You did, you did it!" Carefully relinquishing self into the hug. She gave a generous squeeze and patted his back, then pulling away to hold him by the arms in a celebratory way. "No one was injured and that was because of you!" She guess the cutting would be left to her. "You're wearing gloves from here on out."