maskormenacelogs | I can move mountains, I can work a miracle [OPEN]

[Bull just sort of slowly shuffles in. He's keeping an eye on the TV set, watching in somewhat mild disdain. He's not giving Tetsuo a look, yet. Honestly, he looks more relaxed than he has in a while.]

[He gestures again at the TV.]

Seriously. This crap has no plot. Put on the cooking channel. At least then we'll learn something.

[But he still hasn't come closer. He's keeping his distance for now.]

...It's all in English, anyway.

[SERIOUSLY. FUCK ENGLISH. He's not even bothering to pay attention to his phone's valiant attempts to translate it for him.

Tetsuo you can still follow a cooking show if it's in another language, you know...]

Cooking shows are still pretty easy to figure out. Besides. You might learn something.

[It's said a little wryly. Like he's teasing. Attempting to lighten the mood. Play up the dumb card.]

[In hopes that will put the kid more at ease.]

Can't order pizza all your life.

[There's no retribution yet. No orders to get the hell out of the house, like he's half expecting. Nothing. With everything that's happened.. shouldn't there be?

This is still a safe topic.]

...I don't eat pizza much, anyway. Too much cheese.

[He will on occasion, and has. But that's the key: on occasion, and it's still missing the point since he does eat out when he eats. Is this just an argument because the remote's all the way over there and he doesn't have telekinesis anymore?

Most likely, yes.]

Okay then, you can't just live off the noodles Kaneda's always scarfing down. You at least should know how to make an egg.

[Since there's no yelling, not yet, Bull just keeps up the casual conversation. Talking about nothing. Safe to do that.]

[He does, however, limp forward to lean on the back of the couch. The opposite side from where Tetsuo is sitting. Arms folded gingerly, scowling at the drama on the screen. Okay, part of his nonsense chatter is honest -- this show is crap.]

... Plus, it's still better than whatever the fuck this is.

[He edges to the arm of the couch opposite Bull, just to get that last bit of safe distance.]

I dunno. Something.

[He sees that. He sees that scoot, and shifts accordingly. In the opposite direction. Because this isn't about pressure. Not now.]

Where'd the remote go? I'll show you this thing I found the other day.

[Like a rude heathen, Tetsuo points to it. It's not that far from Bull, fortunately enough.]

There.

[God dammit child for fuck's sake --]

[At least that's the internal monologue, not the external one. Nevertheless, Bull reaches over to scoop it up, flipping channels.]

[Until he lands on Iron Chef.]

There we go.

[It's subtitled.

Waiiiiit.

As the opening narration continues, Tetsuo checks back into reality a little more, adjusting to straighten up a bit on the couch, eyes widening a bit. That's Japanese. That's actually in Japanese, on TV, in America. Tetsuo'd given up on even caring what was on the TV, using it for white noise and white noise only. Japanese shows being on somewhere had never once occurred to him as a possibility.

It plays for a while as Japanese people run around a kitchen preparing meat in dashi. While Tetsuo has no interest in cooking, he's got a lot of interest in something actually familiar. Finally, he has to ask.]

What is this?

[The reaction earns a slow grin. He keeps his eye on the TV though, to make it seem more like he's just reacting to the show, and not to the fact he got the kid to perk up. That might set things back.]

This? They call it Iron Chef.

Dramatic as hell, but I like it.

[Not that he knows what half this stuff is they're making. Doesn't matter. It's entertaining, and that's all he cares about.]

[To be honest, Tetsuo speaks this language and he has no freaking idea what this is anymore, either. Something about stuffing lamb with grapes; nothing he'd ever get a chance to consider trying. Hell, some of this only rich people got.

Well, congratulations, Bull. You got him voluntarily watching a cooking show. Talking can happen later, there's THIS.]

Okay, so. How I figure it. Whoever makes the weirdest crap wins.

[He's just going to narrate. Despite the fact the subtitles are RIGHT THERE. He's going to narrate it anyway. It's more fun that way.]

[But oh man that lamb...]

... now I'm hungry. You want anything?

[Talking can happen much later. First, bullshit has to happen. Everyone has to be at ease.]

That's not what they're saying.

[Where's this kid's sense of whimsy? Who knows.]

...I guess.

[He's still getting used to this 'actually wanting food on a regular basis' deal, and still not sure why Bull's... not... throwing him out of the house or something. But he's not gonna deny this show's making him want meat now.]

[A pause. Calculated. He glances at Tetsuo...]

What are they saying?

[Deliberately asking the kid for help. After everything that had gone down, he's standing here, asking for help from the kid who hit him with a motorcycle and probably plotted his death on a few occasions.]

[At first, Tetsuo stares at Bull, clearly not expecting the question. Doesn't it say that on the screen? Why doesn't he just use his communicator to find out if the translation is inaccurate? It's not really like Tetsuo knows. He can't fucking read it.

But then he turns his head, eyes tracking Bull for a while longer until they flick back to the screen.]

It's the best dish that wins, not the weirdest. [A pause as commentary happens. And, he throws in one more translation totally free.]

...That guy's taking too long to make it.

[As if reading that stare, he adds:]

Communicator's back in my room. Too sore to go grab it just to watch.

[He could, though. If he really wanted to. Instead... instead he's presenting a vulnerability, however small and insignificant. And asking the kid's help. Maybe it won't do shit, but hey. Maybe it will start patching things -- even just a little.]

[He frowns, running his fingers over his chin.]

Oh shit, so they're timed? I thought that was just... cooking show hours.

Yeah. They're timed.

[Small answer, not much, but it's an answer instead of silence. Meanwhile, someone does stuff to meat; putting it and - oh, so that's what mint looks like - it to a kind of gelatin mold that Tetsuo's not sure counts as edible anymore. Probably rich people could eat shit like this.]

Well, shit.

... So if they just have to make the best pile of food, why the hell are they making so many?

[Dammit, Tetsuo he's going to engage you in stupid conversation whether you like it or not.]

That's how the Challenger has to beat the Iron Chef, I guess.

[It's coupled with a shrug; he's pretty sure that's offering up a bullshit explanation. Hell if Tetsuo knows a damn thing about this stuff, though now that he's listening more he's catching on.]

Huh. Wonder how you get on this show...

[Bull no.]

[He shrugs too, with a wince, before pushing himself back up into a standing position.]

I'm getting food. Want anything?

[Tetsuo's watching his every movement pretty closely, but he doesn't move. For all his distrust, poison doesn't occur to him as something people do; for all his experience out on the streets, in some ways he's still fairly naive. Food ought to be fine, right?

Plus.. wanting and getting to eat food regularly is pretty great.]

Uh. Sure.

[Good thing the only unusual things Bull might sneak into one of the kids' food is bacon. Or cook something in booze. Something not super great, but not malicious.]

[This time, though, it's pizza sandwiches. Pizza sandwiches in that they're two huge slices of pizza piled on top of each other. Okay, so Tetsuo's is a little smaller, but still. Come on Bull.]

Here. Who's winning?

[When Bull comes back, Tetsuo turns completely away from the screen. Oh... great. Pizza. Sure. It's easy to forget that's something that's just around in America; it'd been such a novelty back in Neo Tokyo that it quickly slips his mind as a culinary option to begin with. He takes it, edging away from Bull's hand as soon as he's collected the offered "food". Tetsuo picks at it a bit first, pulling a good deal of the cheese off, but he does take a bite after that.

There's no comment on portion sizes; he doesn't much seem to care.]

Ano...

[The hesitant, almost thoughtful way he draws out the word gives a pretty good hint that it's just a filled pause. The Iron Chef's got cooked diakon slices with raw meat in the middle; basically looks like a weird berry paste in translucent tan circles that he's frying. The challenger's working with ice cream for some reason. It sure is a good thing he understands this, because it'd be really confusing to make out what's going on without translation, wouldn't it?

He's tempted to say the Iron Chef's winning just on the basis that the Challenger's stuff doesn't look as good.]

No one's said yet.

... [ There's a pause, then, as they're commenting on something the Challenger's making -]

The hell is fa gura?

[That's 'foie gras' as run by an accent and heard once.]

Damn. All that shit looks really good too.

[He's quick to move his hand away, when he notes Tetsuo pulling away. Though his eye stays on the TV, keeping the move as casual as possible. He really does want to watch this nonsense.]

[... He'll remember that cheese picking for later though.]

[The question draws a frown out of him while he rolls that around in his head. Fa gura? Fagra? His attention shifts to the show, waiting for someone, anyone, to say it again...]

Oh.

It's bird liver. They have that shit in Orlais all the time.

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