"It's fine," Carlisle reassures Glacius, despite having just said otherwise. He was sure his body language was probably doing that for him, his hands wringing together, fingers twitching nervously the longer Glacius kept himself exposed.

He grabs the now-empty bowl and starts pouring ingredients into it, deciding Glacius may prefer to watch him make something that isn't frostloaf. As usual, he fills in that worried silence with words before his jumble of thoughts can catch up to him, or worse, before Glacius can berate himself any more for reasons he doesn't deserve. "I was really the only one in my family who did any baking. My uncle Benistad knew a little, but most I learned from one of the locals in Bear Den. Nice lady, Miss Agatha. Well, she wasn't terribly nice to most people, but I was in there a lot."

Though to be fair, she actually wasn't terribly nice to him, either.