Laughing, as well, Laertes dashes back down to the kitchen with every expectation that Sagramore will follow.

The kitchen doesn't smell of smoke, for a mercy, although the scent of caramelized dough is sharper than Laertes would like. He sweeps the oven open, revealing the only slightly scorched surface of the baklava. "The syrup might still save it," he says hopefully.