"Ohh, Martha knows." she hisses, preheating the oven with a snap of her fingers. She begins to prepare a casserole dish, then fetches the meat from the fridge.

"When Alice was in grade school, every bake fair was a blessed competition."

Crowley fetches a knife to begin cutting up vegetables, doing to with heated and thinly-veiled rage. "I know she threw my lemon squares out that year. There is no other explanation."