[gemma is sitting at her kitchen table, looking rather pleased with herself. yes, there are dark circles beneath her eyes, and she looks pale, but still very pleased. she's also dressed rather casually--well, casually for her. her hands are folded neatly in front of her, and there appears to be a smudge of something orange on her cheek.]I've never realized before how wonderful cooking is. Sarita always did our cooking while we were in India, and Mrs. Jones while in London. And Brigid at school, of course.
[she pauses, and turns to look behind her; there's a timer going on the oven, and it's set to go off in about a minute. she turns back to the comm, still with a little smile on her face.]Sarita's cooking was always my favorite, though. Sometimes she would let me help. She'd say, "You make good dosa, little Memsahib. Your mother will be very pleased."
[she stops abruptly, and glances down. she never was is on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it back. instead she stands, taking the comm with her as she goes to turn off the timer that has just gone off.]Yes, well. It's been the allotted eight ours. Time to actually make the cakes.
[she sets the comm roughly on the counter and then the feed cuts.]