"Yeah, that was kind of tasteless. Just like Inferior Muffins."

Robin sporfles.

"Into the - nah, I shouldn't," says Andi, smirking slightly as she puts the muffin batter, now divided into its cups, into the oven.

Robin covers her face and groans. "Enough, no more, no joking about muffin genocide," she says.

"I wasn't gonna finish the joke!"

"You started the joke. The joke was made," says Robin.

"Sorry."

"It's all right."

"I don't wake up in the morning and say 'I think I will make offensive jokes today', I just keep riffing on anything I do start with." She sets the oven timer and puts the recipe card away.

"Yeah," says Robin. "I'm not blaming you or anything, it's just not something I want to be laughing at, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it." She flops back onto the couch. "What other songs have you written?"

"Yeah!"

Andi listens happily, clapping at each song, singing along in places when she can learn the chorus well enough to do so - she has an untrained, serviceable voice - and then she goes and gets the muffins out. She wipes the counter clean, then upends the muffin tin onto it; twelve muffins bounce out, and she sets them upright and plates two and offers one to Robin.

The rain of muffins makes Robin giggle. She's still giggling as she takes the offered muffin.

"If you take them out by hand you have to wait for them to cool," explains Andi, unwrapping her own muffin with careful little pinches too brief to leave burns.

"And if you take them out by hand you don't get to see them bounce along like that," she says, continuing to giggle.

"Muffins are surprisingly bouncy!"

Robin cracks up all over again.

The muffins are delicious and moist. Andi is smug.

"These are awesome," says Robin.

"Thanks!"

Robin beams. And eats her muffin. Om nom.

"I smell chocolate," says Bella, coming down the stairs. "I am collecting my share of chocolate."