[The specificity of the number draws some attention to itself, but only so much that he notes it, because that's what he does with details. Details like Gideon's love of sweet things, and her lack of exposure to them, which to Paul is more significant than any number of ghosts.

He beams at her, shifting closer with a nod.]

It's called angel food cake. For when I thought this party was for-

[He flutters his hands, and then remembers that Gideon can read his mind as well as she can count his bones.]

Kaworu. It took some tries. The first ones were wet inside, and the next ones were burned. I hope cakes don't have ghosts. [Now, to loop back to scurrilous accusations:] And I didn't take that long, and even if I did, I think the results are well worth it.