♥♡ Mira was absolutely awful at cooking. Too many meals ended up burnt to a crisp or completely underdone. Even with very clear instructions, she always managed to screw it up somehow. After trying and failing over and over, she had given up on cooking completely. It was probably for the best that she stuck to what she knew.

Although, she couldn't avoid cooking any longer. Bakugo had given her a cooking class as her weekly task. That would fill in two categories that she was completely awful at. Public speaking had never been something she was skilled with, and mixing it with an activity she had zero confidence in wasn't helping. At this point, it was too late to step out of doing the task. She said that she'd do it, and she wasn't going to break that promise.

After shuffling through the pages of an old cookbook, Mira found a perfect candidate. A simple club sandwich would do the trick. She'd been able to buy some cooked chicken off of someone, and split up enough supplies, bread, cheese, and vegetables for multiple people to make some sandwiches alongside her. Really, the only risk here was someone getting cut when dealing with the vegetables. Mira would make sure to help that person out if they got hurt.

She'd been sitting at the setup for awhile, trying her best to work up the courage and start the class. She hadn't given out flyers or anything, a bad idea to some people, but it was intentional on her part. Truthfully, she didn't want that many people to show up. Speaking in front of a group of people was absolutely nervewracking. The less people, the better. Still, a constant dread over the class had swept over her. With each passing second, it grew even stronger. Still, the dread would only get worse the longer she waited. She might as well begin now before she'd become a crying and shaking mess.

"H-hey!" she called out, attempting to get attention from any passerby. Her voice was obviously shaky, though it was loud enough to reach some people. Once she was sure at least someone heard her, she continued. "I'm running a cooking class. So, uh- If you want to come and make some food, you're free to." Hopefully not too many people would show up. She just wanted to have this class run as smoothly as possible.

Bakugou knows very little about this Mirabella. When it came to his tasks, he tried his best to offer jobs that were tailored similarly to what he knew of the other's personality and yet, because she was a newcomer, the reaver was left to toss at various ideas. Cooking. He assumes it's something not easy to fuck up and would therefore be rather surprised should the fem prove to be incapable. He thought following recipes would be easy so long as she didn't do something stupid. That being said, he wouldn't have minded if the girl asked for another task. He might grumble and snarl because it would involve more brainpower in thinking up something creative but Bakugou, sooner or later, would have thought up something else for her. Maybe he would have asked her to set up gifts for Typhooners or hold a Q&A session to get to know her but the ragdoll had decided to place the girl a cooking class to see how she would cope. The pirates that inhabited the island all loved free food and most seemed to spend their time either pigging out in the tavern or making delights for others to enjoy.

When Bakugou had exited his hut after a long day of task giving, he recognised the newcomer begin to prepare for her weekly task. He doesn't look directly at her but there is a heaviness about the atmosphere, as if her aura were screaming a discomfort or uneasiness. The male does his best to ignore this, going about his business and leaving for a patrol. He doesn't like getting caught up in the affairs of other Typhooners. They all had their separate minds and anxieties and Bakugou can care less about how they think, feel or function. Everything is about him. The way he perceives the world through his sanguine eyes all depends on him. And yet always he finds himself latched onto dramas, arguing with others, growling at all sorts of 'injustices'. Bakugou sighs when he trods across the sand again, eyes noticing Mirabella was still there. She looked about finished and his suspicions are further confirmed when the girl announces her cooking class. Like a moth, he swivels and turns towards her. He's curious to see how she will go about her task, sitting down and tapping his tail. He does nothing to stifle back a yawn, gaze floating over the ingredients set aside. Sandwiches, he guesses.