herr_bookman (
herr_bookman) wrote in
milliways_bar2014-09-16 12:50 pm
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Delectable scents of apple butter and nutmeg and chocolate waft out from the kitchen today, where Autor is hard at work. He has donned an apron and is crooning along with--of all people--Frank Sinatra.
Covered bowls litter the countertops and the fridge, but only for a moment; the industrious boy codes them all into his sylladex to preserve their contents. Having chopped and sautéed and boiled all day, the boy pulls more bowls out to prepare dough.
He's busy, but might be willing to take a break.
Covered bowls litter the countertops and the fridge, but only for a moment; the industrious boy codes them all into his sylladex to preserve their contents. Having chopped and sautéed and boiled all day, the boy pulls more bowls out to prepare dough.
He's busy, but might be willing to take a break.
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He turns away from Dr. Lecter, bent over the sink and scrubbing the pot. "I know that you won't," he says, "but I still don't plan on trying anything you make anytime soon."
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"Simply to deny me the pleasure," he says. "Which I can well understand."
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"And unfortunately for me?" Autor says, smiling callously. "You make it sound like I wanted you dead."
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"If anything, I have what they call a blue and orange morality. Or maybe a plaid and paisley morality."
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"You can order a replica from Bar, can't you?" he says, wishing suddenly that he had some tea.
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