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He could b***h all he wanted about having less breathing room in his slacks, but there was an undeniable appeal to a giant cake. First of all, Gilbert was a man, and when you put the word "giant" in front of anything he was automatically intrigued. Secondly, he did love cake, and the fliers being posted all over the place with a crudely drawn cake were more than enough to draw him in. Had he realized when he arrived at Leo kitchens that they didn't actually have anyone to bake the damn thing yet, he might have been singing a different tune. However, he'd been ushered into the kitchen by a couple of enthusiastic but generally hapless people, cooking-wise, and then they'd disappeared once they'd thrust an apron at him and five boxes of cake mix.

It wasn't that Gilbert couldn't cook, just that he didn't usually. He was the kind of guy who would rather pick up something on his way home from work and then torture himself in the gym the next morning to make up for it. His cousin kind of cooked, but in the way that it looked all right but gave you a stomach ache later, which was... sort of to be expected. Two single men living in one apartment? Yeaah. Sometimes he got the single ladies around the complex to take pity and make him something nice and home cooked, but he couldn't very well rely on that. So: Chinese take-out.

He didn't think he'd ever actually baked a cake, and certainly not in a kitchen like this. He frowned, eyes passing over the weird-looking get up; stoves that had little curly Leo symbols all over them, with... those were burners, right, and there were really ornate pots and pans all over the place. The walls had scorch marks on them, which Leo himself probably wasn't any too pleased about, considering this place had been largely unused for who knew how long. Well, that sort of thing happened when you let a bunch of people into your kitchen.

Before he turned anything on, though, he had to inspect the place. Truth be told, Gilbert barely knew his way around his own kitchen at home. For all it was different, though, there was... kind of the same basic layout. It looked like one of those fancy restaurant kitchens you saw in a movie or something. Bigass stove, lots of burners, industrial sized sink. Sure, it was jewel-crusted on the outside, but the inside was clear and polished and apparently activated as easily as a touch. Big walls led up to high ceilings, higher in the middle of the room than against the walls, and there were hooded vents and about seven million pegs against the wall. He guessed there were usually a lot of cooks? That was the only reason he could think of that you'd need so many pegs in a wall. A lot of aprons.

He looked down at his own apron -- one of those ridiculous ones that had a set of gleaming washboard abs over it -- and grimaced. Whose personal collection this had come from he didn't even really want to ask, but he was pretty sure it hadn't come with the kitchens.

People were beginning to filter in, no doubt lured by the promise of cake, and Gilbert was more than okay with that. He had a lot of eggs to crack.

Grant had never really visited the kitchens before, but he was feeling chipper and wanted to see if he might be able to help here as much as he felt he had been helping in the other places. Which, in reality, wasn't very much. He had given someone a tour at the outpost he was sleeping at, but hadn't actually known much about the place. He gave out compliments like candy on halloween, and ran any errands anyone asked of him, but ultimately he hadn't done anything particularly helpful to the whole, just to individuals.

But that was perfectly alright with him: if he made one person smile, then his whole day was made. If he made two people smile? He wasn't sure he could process how happy that made him, and more than that was just ridiculous. He strove for at least ten smiles, though, which put his mental state of perpetual happiness rather high.

Despite the situation around him, and the things he had heard about.

But if everyone else was feeling the weight of it, then it made sense that his duty was to help them bear it by being completely free of the weight of sadness and tension himself. It was easier to spread even a little lightheartedness with a smile and honesty then it was by faking.

Popping his head into the kitchen, he smiled when he saw Gilbert there.

"Would you like some help?" he asked straight off, holding a flier and pointing at it to make sure his offer was very clear. Like the guy obviously making cake might not know what he was talking about. Grant had never made a cake before, but he was very good at following directions and recipes. He was certain he could be of some use.

He was always certain of that. Even if it was just wiping spilled flour.

Cake. For a food lover like Menthe it was strange to be missing such a very... normal and simple thing. But she couldn't deny the soft longing she felt when she saw the fliers advertising the comfort food.

It wasn't that the food they'd been provided was bad! Certainly she was very thankful and it was more than enough to sustain them. But for the most part it had been just that. Food to sustain. Quick and easy meals that could be pumped out in mass and keep the civilians healthy and fed. Gourmet meals were far and inbetween and sweets... well this was the first she'd seen any offered!

The picture itself also reminded her of Fritz, even though it looked a bit.. juvinile for someone that was actually going to school for art. But anyway.

Gathering the bits of scrap paper she'd been collecting over the days and a few tiny pencils she made her way from the Aquarius outpost to the Leo ones, thankfully with a small group so she didn't have to make the long and scary walk all on her own!! The chatter about attacks and things.. whether they were true or not had the group almost breathless by the time they arrived, and Menthe departed from the rest to find the source of the flier.

She was hoping for some cupcakes filled with something... or.. heaven help her some Tiramisu to really take her away from this place for a few minutes of bliss. When she found none, and not even a cake, there was a distinct but silent dissapointment on the mint haired secretary's face. But it was an expression that quickly shifted when she reached the kitchen and saw just who was apparently working on said treat.

Officer Gilbert!!

There were other people too, some vaguely familiar and others not, and she offered anyone that looked her way a shy smile.

Shuffling in, and nearer to Gilbert, feeling that once again familiar rush of safety in his presence. Rustling through the papers in her arms, she coughed very softly to get his attention. "It seems you're keeping very busy. Pack mule and party planner?"

Who knew cake would have such an immediately and wide-spread allure? Well, aside from Princess Peach. She was always luring Mario in with cake and the not delivering.

Peach was kind of a b***h like that, actually.

Lining up his cake boxes like a little army, he planted his hands on his hips and gave them a firm nod. If there was one thing he knew from his childhood, from back when his dad had actually given a s**t and been around, it was that whoever was wearing the apron first called the shorts. That meant he was in charge of getting this cake business underway.

The first person to arrive, one that he recognized immediately, was Felicia. She got a grin and a confession, his tone humorous as he replied, "I'm not actually that great at cooking either. But, well, it's cake from a box. Can't get much easier."

Next couple of people he recognized, if only their faces; he hadn't spoken to everyone, but he'd seen them around enough that he wasn't alarmed by them coming in. Now would be as good a time as any to get to know people a little better and see if he could figure out anything else that they might have had in common, right? A reason for them all to be taken at once. Because frankly, he was coming up short in all of his deductions. He nodded to the one he didn't know (Jasper), foregoing introductions for now in light of addressing the ones who were speaking directly to him.

"Hey, Grant," he said, nodding his head toward the other man. "We could use all the help we can get. Couple girls were advertising this and then split once I got here, said something about having to get back home... senshi volunteers, I think." Something must've come up back on earth or something. It kind of annoyed him that the magical beings could zip back and forth as they chose, though.

He'd put on a goddamn short skirt if it meant he could get home.

The next lady to come in got herself a smile as well, a touch warmer than might have been really necessary. Fact of the matter was, Gilbert thought Menthe was cute, and he was glad to see she was still doing well. "You know me, Menthe. Pretty woman asks me to do something, I'm like putty in her hands."

He gestured to the cake, and then when Joshua skidded into the kitchen, he laughed. His partner-in-crime for the running was here to work up a little guilt and then get himself back on the track, apparently. He also brought up a good point.

Turning, he scanned the kitchen and pointed across the way, at a series of elaborate cupboards. "I don't know if they were intended for it, but maybe there's some pans we can use in there. We'll need some bowls for mixing, too, so... I guess first things first, we've got to get all our supplies together. Bowls, pans, if you can find anything that might work like one of those bat-looking things..."

The word was whisk, Gilbert. Whisk.

"Or maybe just a giant fork. These things clump up, or so I hear."

It didn't take long for others to filter in behind her, and she lifted her head to glance over her shoulder as a trio of boys volunteered their services to the greater good(Caaaaaaake), as well as a woman who seemed to already know the cop in the novelty apron. Apparently Gilbert had been a bit of a social butterfly, or perhaps Licia was just anti-social. It was probably the latter in all honesty. It wasn't always intentional, but the girl had a tendency to gravitate towards people she already knew, rather then work at making new friends. Elitist sounding, but true.

So it would be Gilbert she would stick close to today, at least until she got to know the others a little bit better, and at his own admission to culinary failure she'd smile warmly. Finally pushing up to stand straighter, hip resting casually against the edge of the counter. "Just to be on the safe side you better give me an easy task." She grinned. "Something impossible to screw up." Like expediting! Can't ******** up that. Probably.

Another girl made her way into the kitchen at the promise of cake, and she seemed every bit as disappointed in the lack there of as everyone else seemed to be. "I know, right? Wander over here expecting heaven on a plate only to find it's not been made yet." She snorted softly, crossing her arms as she glanced around for the bat shaped utensil Gil had asked about. Head tilting as she eyed a hanging whisk. "Gilbert, that what you're looking for?" She pointed up at a row of hooks with various odds and ends hanging from them.

She pushed away from the counter she was leaning on so she could make a grab for it, but quickly learned the Leo kitchen had not been built with petite women in mind. Raising on tiptoes she made another grab, the tips of her fingers brushing the curved wire, but it was just too high up. "Clearly this place wasn't designed around short people making the food."

Grant nodded his head eagerly. There were two girls who had volunteered? he hoped they were alright, in whatever it was that had drawn their attention away. he knew the word senshi meant that it was one of the people helping them, one of the ones who could actually leave this place, so he imagined whatever they had gone off to do was very important.

He hoped they were alright.

"I'll do whatever you need me to!" He said, nodding his head a few times. He smiled brightly, looking around at the gathering crowd. "How nice of so many people to come and help!" He said, to no one in particular that time. It just struck him as a very kind gesture on behalf of a large group. Wanting to help where it was needed, and jumping in together to save the day.

Or maybe everyone just really wanted cake. That thought didn't occur to him.

He politely listened in, which maybe wasn't as polite as he thought it was just because he was quiet about it, as other people spoke to one another, picking up the instructions they were getting and giving, and trying to jump in and help with whatever he could. He reached over Felicia and got the whisk she was reaching for, offering it to her with a smile.

"Here you go, Ma'am."

He called everyone ma'am. Unless they were dudes.

((I will be at work for the next 5 or so hours. Menthe is the quiet and helpful type, anyone can feel free to puppet her around a bit or assume she's working in the background. heart ))

She nodded dutifully to Gilbert's suggestion, setting each bowl out seperately before stepping back to allow whoever wanted one to grab on too. But not too far away. She returned his smile in fact, poor innocent and oblivious girl.

In the meantime she was searching to see if anyone had located spoons, so she could steal a spoon to go along with her own bowl and box of cake mix.

It was strange that they were all different mixes. Subtle chocolates and strong ones, but they probably would mix together alright, maybe even make a more exciting flavor then she'd originally been assuming they'd encounter.

As long as they all had the same cook times and what not. Really when it came to baking eyeing things was just as important as the directions.

Looking more carefully at her box she tried to figure out just how much of which ingredients she'd need.

Reaching over to one of the Leo symbols on the stove, Gilbert pressed down on it, a little impressed when it began to glow a bright orange. Though there was no real explosion of heat, he could tell that the stove itself was now functioning and, he supposed, pre-heating. Nice. He'd like something like that for his own apartment; seemed easy enough.

Sure, he had no idea how hot it was or how to adjust the temperature, but -- Oh, right. There. Some kind of temperature gauge.

He leaned over, a bowl tucked up to his chest as he began to beat the batter, and didn't notice when some of it slopped over the side and onto his apron. It was heating up, sure, and he just had to watch until it climbed to around 350 degrees and then stop it. Although...

Looking around, expression quizzical, he asked, "D'you think this counts as high altitude baking?" Normally, you had to adjust recipes for baking in the mountains and whatnot.

He looked down at his bowl, and debated dunking his finger in for some. But no, wait, there were still whole eggs swirling around in there, and someone would definitely notice if he did. Damn.

"Oh well. Once everyone's got their stuff mixed, we can pour it in some of those dishes. Mine's... about... a third of the way there," he decided, going back to beating his cake mix with verve. "Anybody who's not mixing can look for some frosting. Or make some, if you know how."

He certainly had no idea. That was why they put the stuff in containers, anyway.