"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Ruggahissy
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It seemed like claiming Andrew's identity, the quickly running out of time to complete a cake and the general fact that he was some-what assisting them (or at the very least, not impeding their progress) was enough to get the Spanish inquisition of cake making off his back.

And even if that wasn't enough, Alba was running around and proving a pretty good secondary distraction. He would be fine.

Caleb eyed the set of measuring cups on the table while also occasionally looking back to Alba frantically looking for them. He watched for a moment and then picked up a new bowl and set it on the counter.

"I got us a bowl," he said.

He picked up the frosting recipe card and put one hand on his hip while he read it. "Easy buttercream vanilla," is what the card read. That sounded pretty good. He went to the class fridge, retrieved butter and milk and set them on the table near the bowl.

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Havana Escapade · West Wing