John Silver (
an_honest_man) wrote in
milliways_bar2013-08-14 03:10 pm
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John Silver is a man who knows his way around a kitchen. Even one that's gleaming with more steel than the entire British Navy's armory. And this kitchen is a sea cook's dream. The pantries are stocked to the ceiling, and there's cold storage with fresh meat and eggs and even cheese.
First off, he wants a joint. Something that isn't pig or bird. A proper beef joint, like a fine gentleman would have for his Sunday dinner. And he's going to make it himself. There's something disturbing about having rats handle his food. They gave up trying to shoo him out of the kitchen when he waved his crutch at them, nearly taking one's head off.
'Go on! Bleedin' vermin. I run a fine establishment, and there are no rats in the larder!' Well, at least not for long, anyway. 'Get out, or I'll find a cat to turn loose in here, and then you'll see what for!'
He'll have this place up to snuff in no time, given half a chance.
First off, he wants a joint. Something that isn't pig or bird. A proper beef joint, like a fine gentleman would have for his Sunday dinner. And he's going to make it himself. There's something disturbing about having rats handle his food. They gave up trying to shoo him out of the kitchen when he waved his crutch at them, nearly taking one's head off.
'Go on! Bleedin' vermin. I run a fine establishment, and there are no rats in the larder!' Well, at least not for long, anyway. 'Get out, or I'll find a cat to turn loose in here, and then you'll see what for!'
He'll have this place up to snuff in no time, given half a chance.
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In no time at all, he's shoving a cast iron pot into the oven, and peering at the dials.
'Erm...'
Okay, this may be a bit beyond him.
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"I've always wondered about why so much of Milliways gravitates towards late 20th, early 21st century tech," she says, approaching the oven. "What are you making?"
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'Just a bit of a Sunday joint, luv. I'm used to cooking over an open flame. These are all fine and dandy, but they're a might confusing, to one such as myself.'
He starts fiddling with the dials, leaning heavily on the stove so he can peer down into the oven as he does.
'No coals here to work with. How's a bloke supposed to cook without any coals?'
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"Ovens like this, you just tell it how hot you want it to be, to cook what you're wanting to cook, and it'll stay at that temperature until you turn it off," Rae explains, flipping through one of the likelier-looking cookbooks.
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'It's four pounds, and with the -- here, let me see that.'
He winks at her as he gently takes the book, flipping through it like the reverend in search of scripture as he makes his way back to the His finger lands on a page, pinning it, and then he looks back up at her.
'And these knobs, here? There's no "ROAST" button.'
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He leans in, hopping on his crutch, and dials up the proper number. Again, he leans back and chuffs when the pilot light catches.
'Well, I'll be. That's brilliant. Thank you, Sunshine. I am indebted for your assistance. Now, come sit and tell me why you don't eat meat. Sounds right unhealthy, if you ask me.'
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"There are some in my world who'd tell you eating meat is unhealthy, too," she grins, measuring out the jasmine green tea. "But that's not why I don't eat it. Fact is, I can't eat it."
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'Can't? What, does it make you ill?'
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Only like it was a hacked-up piece of some dead thing.
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'Well, that's a shame. Suppose that means I'll have to bake you a cake, or -- a trifle, or something similar.'
He looks like he's puzzling through his options.
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Bewaaaaaare. ^_^
"How do you take your tea?"