mid-season cooldown (semi-open)

[darkov]

WHO: residents and friends of MF#10
WHERE: MF#10
WHEN: post-Shimmer, pre-Pantheon evening
WHAT: we eat
WARNINGS: andy's here so there's that and maybe someone dies from eating marty's cooking?



Thanks to Andy's short-sighted but well-meaning shopping during a week of muddled ages and mindsets, an abundance of food is set to expire at the same time. This means trash day is going to actually smell, or...or a bunch of culinary failures try and make do for round two of the casserole wars. It's been a particularly hard stretch of days, aging aside: Anderson's gone, leaving a very distinct hole in the hearts of many here, and perhaps because of a need to fill it, this routine is picked up once more.

(Now of course, because this house is well acquainted with the fallout from poor food choices, fan-favorite takeout has also been procured in almost similar abundance. It's perhaps why some friends were given more earnest requests to show up than others -- please finish this excess we're physically not equipped to do so ourselves.)

The absence of the most stable and gifted member of this oddball family has also led to another unusual occurrence this time around: Martin manning a stove. He doesn't trust himself to read instructions, let alone follow them, but he pulls from memory something from Olvoski that he recalls chopping vegetables for many times, even if he never picked up a ladle in his life.

The result is something soup-like...but really, it's mostly just chopped-up potatoes and carrots boiled in water. It's desperate for seasoning of any kind, so those who are savvy enough to know that can somewhat salvage it, should they dare to even try. Otherwise, enjoy the blandest, soupiest mush of root veggies this side of...I don't know, a famine or something.

Beyond that, there's always alcohol to scrub all flavor from your taste buds! There's always alcohol here. Thanks, Andy.

Comments

gremlin

[darkov]

[there is no compliment in the world able to make this mess he's prepared taste even halfway decent. any glimpse he gets of it getting poured at all results in a guilty grimace and a quick getaway from accusation.

while he's not inclined to stick around and get called out for lack of cooking skill, he still lingers in rooms near and around chatter. the ambiance is a weird sort of comfort, especially in light of so many stressful days alone or barely seeing anyone. it hasn't always been his fault, either, and he can admit that much. things are just...bad. he can't wholly understand why, but he knows he's too small to be the sole cause of it all.

when not idling near conversation, he finds openings to get back to the kitchen and clean up. this was his job when Anderson was running things, so it feels right to do so now. it's as much a comfort as the presence of safe and familiar people is, so while his expression is the typical sullen frown he wears, it's not from chewing on something horrid in dismay -- that's just resting sad-face, and he can worry plenty once he's taken plates and glasses to task.]

[h2no]

[as much of an emotional struggle it was for him, archie came back. as he discussed with rex, as he convinced himself he was being a stupid coward. he made it to the house with his heart in his throat but unscathed. no-one followed him, despite his paranoia, no-one even noticed or cared he existed. it's far better than he expected, though the anxiety doesn't dissipate when he makes it into the house. he'd told martin what he was doing after all-- he should've told him he was coming back. maybe rex did. maybe he's just made another mistake.

archie dismisses the thought, shakily pulling his hoodie off and hanging it on one of the hooks by the door. he pulls a small bag out the pocket, wincing as it crinkles. it's a donut; the same donut he'd brought martin during the time loops. it's not much, but... he doesn't really know what else to do. all he knows is that he fucked up again and hurt someone else. if he can't stop himself doing that, he can at least make an effort to fix it.

he fiddles with the bag a little for a few moments nervously, looking down at the ground, biting his lip, going over in his head what he wants to say (feeling ridiculous, he's a grown ass man) and finally calls out:] Marty?

[killtime]

[ It's not the worst thing she's ever had, honestly. But she's also been alive almost seven thousand years, so maybe that's not saying too much. Still, it's edible. More edible than Rex's burnt casserole last month. So, she eats it. And later brings her bowl back into the kitchen to wash.

Seeing Martin there scrubbing dishes makes her chest heavy somehow. Reminds her of the first family dinner. How she and Anderson had stood at the sink — Anderson washing, herself drying — and how they'd talked about what might be best for Martin. ]

Hey, kid. Need a hand?

[queenofseers]

[ As Martin's washing the dishes, Cassandra comes up and taps him on the shoulder- she looks exhausted, and is on maybe her third cup of coffee since she got here. If she didn't have all that makeup on, she'd have gigantic bags under her eyes.

She'd worried about Martin while Rex and Andy were in that...thing, so she supposes it's a comfort they're all back now, even if she doesn't look like she's in the mood for a dinner party. ]

Hey. Everything going okay here, you think? Now that we've got some normalcy for...at least a few days, I hope?

[minorgod]

[ Yato would have wanted to get out of De Chima for a few days after that whole mess even if it hadn't been for the invitation, but the invite does give him a destination. He's definitely not quite his usual exuberant self, and there's a slim black sword sheath at his hip, but he's got a smile for Martin when he arrives. ]

Hey Martin. They've got you on kitchen duty, huh?

[lesterzeppelin]

[ Considering how much time Andy spends here, Lester visiting was inevitable. He feasted (and honestly he contributed some roasted veggies), he entertained others with his ukulele, and now, he’s gathering dishes to clean them up. Hop fully this place has a dishwasher. He doesn’t want to think about hand washing anything.

When he walks in the kitchen, he realizes quickly that he won’t be alone. So he grins, carefully setting things down and announcing his arrival with his louder than usual footsteps. No sense in startling the kid. ] Hey. Looks like you could use a hand.

MEANWHILE

[knaval]

"Hey, idiots!"

Riptide is utterly unashamed as he swooces on in, still obscenely tall - like, needs to duck to get through the door tall - still gangly and currently holding an (open) bottle of whiskey in one hand and a... package of sausage meat in the other. He holds it out to the closest person unfortunate to be in his vicinity.

"Humans like this sorta stuff, right? Primus knows why, but I can hardly talk. My species pretty much survives off radioactive battery acid!" he chirps, offering absolutely no explanation to anything he just said. "Alright, where's the kitchen? I need a glass..."

[darkov]

"Oh--"

He may've missed the entrance proper, but he can't miss all six-plus feet of Riptide moseying into the kitchen, not while he's in here chopping carrots.

He's honestly a little surprised Riptide came at all. But...maybe it's a good thing.

"Hel-hello." He blinks from Riptide to the contents being deposited on the counter. "Oh...you...you didn't have to bring anything yourself..."

He glances at the abundance of stuff already laid out. They're trying to get rid of it all, after all...

[queenofseers]

Oh, what the hell. Cassandra looks wildly exhausted, sitting on the couch chugging down a mug of black coffee when Riptide walks in. She's too tired to be shocked, but she raises an eyebrow. God, is everyone she knows connected?

"Riptide," she yells, waving a hand at him, though with little enthusiasm. "Why the hell are you here?"

And...she's processing his offerings. "And what the hell are you doing with those? Dinner's already made."

[myownprice]

[Boba takes the items being shoved at him without thinking—mostly because he’s busy blinking in confusion at this human who sounds very much like a giant alien he met a few weeks ago. It must be a coincidence, right?

That’s what he thinks, at least. Until the “human” starts talking about how his species eats radioactive battery acid. The realization that this likely is Riptide brings with it a sudden jolt of panic. Before Riptide can greet him, Boba suddenly seizes him by the wrist, dropping the sausages in the process.

Riptide will find that no matter how loudly he talks, his words will be completely silent.]

[ct_7567]

Rex accepts the package of sausage meat almost instinctually, looking skeptically between it, the man that's just swanned into his house, and the open bottle of liquor that he's holding. He considers his presence. An odd looking fellow, with only the barest grasp on general etiquette for these types of affairs, and an affinity for the open consumption of alcohol in the midst of a place in which nobody else is drinking...

Ah. This must be one of Andy's friends.

"Who are you, then?"

TIRED MOM ANDY

[killtime]

[ Andy is... Very fucking tired. Tired with a capital T. Tired enough to die, except she can't. So here she is. At family dinner again. Coping with cigarettes and alcohol again. At least this time, she isn't camping out in the bathroom? Surely that must be some kind of improvement.

Or not. Because later in the evening, she's found a more creative place to hide. It's the roof. And nobody is sure how she got up there. She probably won't tell you. You might not even notice her, except she brought a six-pack of beer up and a cigarette, so either the faint smell of ash will give her away, or someone below might get hit with an empty beer can when Andy carelessly knocks it over.

Prior to this most skillful escape, Andy can be found feeding tiny bits of boiled carrots to Rex the fish — someone should probably stop her — or maybe sitting on the kitchen counter, leaning out the nearest window with a lit cigarette. ]

heres the bs

[knaval]

[a shadow would fall over her, if it wasn't dark. riptide had gone out into the garden for some fresh air and to change back to his natural form for a few minutes-- one that's about thirty three feet tall and towers over the roof of the two-storey house. a transformation that... doesn't really make any noise, save for the soft whirring of his systems.

he carefully puts a big hand on the edge of the roof-- careful enough that he doesn't even rattle the tiles - and cocks his head. the bright yellow lights of his optics are probably like spotlights in the dark, looking down at her.]

Humans don't belong on the roof, [he points out, helpfully.]

rooftop

[minorgod]

[ It's the empty beer can just missing his head that makes him look up from the yard, catching it reflexively, and noting Andy on the roof slope. He steps back to get a better look, holding up an unopened six-pack of his own as an unspoken peace offering. ]

Enough shingle space up there for two?

Rooftop

[lesterzeppelin]

[ By this point, Lester has gotten really good at pinpointing that faint smell. He can guess who’s lighting up, and so without thinking, he follows her up there, with a cup of homemade Greek coffee for himself. ]

Hey. [ he settles down beside her, taking a sip of his drink, ] Needed to get away for a while?

Boba Fett/CT-1313/"Lucky"/lying little shit

[myownprice]

[When Boba had received the invitation to come to Rex’s residence for dinner, he’d remembered the captain’s warning: stay in contact, or Rex would keep in contact. With that in mind, showing up had been the obvious, if grudging, decision. He’s found work recently; he doesn’t need other people to feed him. Still, if it keeps Rex off his back, maybe it’ll be worth it.

He starts to think very hard about that “maybe” as more and more strangers appear in the house. He honestly hadn’t expected anyone besides himself and the clones to be in attendance. It hadn’t even occurred to him that clones could be friends with anyone besides their brothers. But if the growing guest list is anything to go by, he couldn't have been more wrong.

He spends most of the evening hovering near the exits and keeping a close eye on the people who enter. What if someone shows up who knows Boba by his true identity? If one of them greets Boba by name, things could go bad very, very quickly.

When he does finally sit down to eat, he can only bring himself to eat a few mouthfuls. And it’s not just for lack of spices.]

[darkov]

Y...you don't have to eat it. All of it. I mean.

[Martin's lingering a safe distance from where Boba's sat, having watched him mulling about for some time while deftly darting eye contact. this whole clone business is very curious, and it's stranger now with more in the same proximity as Rex.

especially a smaller one like this.

he really hopes he isn't prone to hair-pulling like little Rex had been...]

Sorry... [he self-consciously scratches at his elbow.] I don't really...know how to make food. Just--just cut up pieces. Sorry.

[ct_7567]

Good to see you decided to show up, kid.

[ Boba's favourite person in the world, the bossy asshole who coerced him into coming here in the first place, materializes behind him, a plate in hand. He sets it down in front of Lucky and, sure enough, it's got some of the decent take-out on it so Lucky can stop morosely shoving vegetables around. In all honesty the mushy vegetables are a sight better than some of what they were served on Kamino but he can understand why one would prefer something a little heartier after continuous, daily exposure to Earth food. ]

Here. You should take some home with you as well. We've got plenty.

most earnest clonebro

[loyal_soldier]

It hadn't required any thought. As soon as he got the invite, he knew he was coming. Precisely on time, showing up in the nicest Earth clothes he has, with a bag over his shoulder.

"I know there's going to be food, but--" but he couldn't help but remember that one day that he was never, ever going to mention, in the interest of preserving Rex's dignity.

"I've been meaning to bring over more clone-safe stuff." It was an odd assortment of high-protein, vitamin-rich stuff, cooked precisely according to the recipes and divided into small portions to each meal easier to balance nutritionally. All of it was bland, but that was by design. All seasoning was done after cooking, with stuff that added flavor to the food without making his eyes water. He'd brought some small containers of those too.

He'd over-prepared, definitely, but he had no idea what to do at a social meal that didn't happen at a Chinese restaurant or a weird government-sponsored event on a boat.

[darkov]

Martin frowns deeply at the containers that Rex's brother's just set down amid the already massive array. Why is everyone bringing more food when there's already so much.

While the man's back is turned, Martin scoots over toward the table and tentatively picks at some of his offerings, popping a lid open and leaning over to sniff. It doesn't have the overpowering spices of the Thai stuff they'd gotten before, which is nice, and--

"Uh!"

He jerks away when he doubletakes and becomes aware of being noticed. Doing so sends the lid flying...at TK.

[killtime]

Andy was the complete opposite. She was wearing exactly what she'd worn to bed — a rumpled utility jacket over a shirt she probably stole from Rex, ragged jeans — and she was only on time because she'd slept on Rex and Martin's couch the night before. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been present to watch the Rex lookalike arrive.

It was still weird for her. Rex had talked to her about clones but it was still weird. And she wasn't exactly making a secret of her skeptical scrutiny either.

"'Clone-safe stuff.' You mean, food that isn't going to leave Rex crippled in the bathroom for the rest of the day?"

Apparently, she lacks his tact. Or his consideration for Rex's dignity.

[h2no]

"Hey, 622," Archie says, raising a hand as the man walks by him. The hair doesn't throw him, this time. He's got his head on right.

He quite wishes 622 could've given him an actual name, as with D33 he doesn't like calling people by numbers, but... he doesn't know the guy well enough to try about getting away with a nickname yet.

"I'm not cooking this time," he continues with a short laugh. "Can I have a look at what you brought, please?"

[ct_7567]

Rex, on the other hand, has made absolutely no concessions to dressing up any more than usual - but in fairness, he tends to wear more or less the same thing every day. A few months spent with the ability to curate an actual wardrobe hasn't had much effect on a lifetime spent in the comfortable security of uniforms. He doesn't greet 622 until a little later, once he emerges from tidying up the kitchen, padding through the house with an air of comfort and familiarity. It may have taken some time but he's at ease here now, surrounded by those he knows and trusts, in an environment he knows every inch of.

"Ah, 622! Good to see you -- "

Oh, stars. Is all of that food? He glances at the boxes and raises a brow at the man, the very corner of his mouth twitching. "You do realize you had no obligation to bring anything, right?"

the worst tl ever

[h2no]

[archie's on the couch, sobbing into a bowl of potatoes.

maybe just leave him alone, for now.]

[ct_7567]

[ Rex enters the room, hoping for a little quiet time, and then sees Archie openly weeping into a bowl.

He does a sharp 180 degree turn and walks right back out again. Not today. ]