Spirit Albarn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notsoholyspirit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rookshire2019-07-28 04:48 pm
notsoholyspirit) wrote in rookshire2019-07-28 04:48 pm
Even if I don't know what your pain is
Who: Spirit and Kit (willing or unwilling), and then Spirit and everyone!
What: When a man promises to make soup, he makes soup! Feel free to find him outside cooking or as he's bringing a pot of definitely-edible-but-not-great soup around.
Where: Just outside the sallyport, and then around inside
When: New Moon
Warnings: See post headers, none yet
I. Cooking
There's no stove inside. At first, Spirit considers this sort of a problem--how is he supposed to go about cooking without a heat source? Until the hangover (and it's a terrible hangover) wears off enough, and he considers cooking outside. He doesn't mind the heat enough for it to be a deterrent, certainly, despite the fair skin that would suggest that he can't manage.
So he gathers the ingredients he can scrape together (a few Cup of Noodles, two cans of soup broth they'd found in the city, some cans of vegetables, some water). It's not much, but he's pretty sure he can make something that's at the very least edible. So for much of the late morning, he's a little ways away from the sallyport entrance with his hair tied back and sleeves rolled up (they're dry now, thanks Liam!) attempting to coax something flavorful that doesn't taste like garbage from the Ingredients of Dubious Quality.
Because he's outside, his back is to the sallyport and he's whistling quietly to himself as he cooks. Probably not difficult to sneak up on, but if you scare the cook too much you won't get any soup.
II. Serving
Kit gets first dibs. He'd made that much clear last night, despite the slur to his words. So he starts with her, carefully managing a large pot of soup with noodles and a few vegetables. It's not the best thing he's ever made, but it's better than the canned junk and actually doesn't taste half bad (he knows, because he's tasted it).
After serving her, he makes his way to the break room. Here, he sets the pot aside and returns to the locker room to collect a few more pans. It's an interesting array serving items he's got: two shallow pans, another larger pot, a few mugs and some utensils--exactly none of which are spoons.
He posts himself at the door, knowing there isn't exactly a wafting scent of tasty soup to speak for his efforts. He's holding the single large spoon that he'd been using to cook in his right hand, and will absolutely flag any passers-by down. He'll also be calling down the hall if he hears you.
"Hey. Soup's up, if you're interested. It's not terrible!" Given the available resources, he considered this an accomplishment. "It's cooled down a bit too."
III. Aggressive Dad Mode: Activate [Closed to Kit]
Spirit meant what he'd said about the soup. She gets a mug and a fork, and Spirit doesn't wait for her to appear so he can offer. Instead, he looks for her through the hospital until he finds her. If she's awake or not it doesn't matter: he kneels beside her, holding the cup carefully in his hands.
"I promised soup. It's not the best I've ever made," he's talking quietly, thoughtfully, as he offers the small mug to her, "but it's better than what's in the cans, and it isn't too heavy. Should sit in your stomach all right."
What: When a man promises to make soup, he makes soup! Feel free to find him outside cooking or as he's bringing a pot of definitely-edible-but-not-great soup around.
Where: Just outside the sallyport, and then around inside
When: New Moon
Warnings: See post headers, none yet
I. Cooking
There's no stove inside. At first, Spirit considers this sort of a problem--how is he supposed to go about cooking without a heat source? Until the hangover (and it's a terrible hangover) wears off enough, and he considers cooking outside. He doesn't mind the heat enough for it to be a deterrent, certainly, despite the fair skin that would suggest that he can't manage.
So he gathers the ingredients he can scrape together (a few Cup of Noodles, two cans of soup broth they'd found in the city, some cans of vegetables, some water). It's not much, but he's pretty sure he can make something that's at the very least edible. So for much of the late morning, he's a little ways away from the sallyport entrance with his hair tied back and sleeves rolled up (they're dry now, thanks Liam!) attempting to coax something flavorful that doesn't taste like garbage from the Ingredients of Dubious Quality.
Because he's outside, his back is to the sallyport and he's whistling quietly to himself as he cooks. Probably not difficult to sneak up on, but if you scare the cook too much you won't get any soup.
II. Serving
Kit gets first dibs. He'd made that much clear last night, despite the slur to his words. So he starts with her, carefully managing a large pot of soup with noodles and a few vegetables. It's not the best thing he's ever made, but it's better than the canned junk and actually doesn't taste half bad (he knows, because he's tasted it).
After serving her, he makes his way to the break room. Here, he sets the pot aside and returns to the locker room to collect a few more pans. It's an interesting array serving items he's got: two shallow pans, another larger pot, a few mugs and some utensils--exactly none of which are spoons.
He posts himself at the door, knowing there isn't exactly a wafting scent of tasty soup to speak for his efforts. He's holding the single large spoon that he'd been using to cook in his right hand, and will absolutely flag any passers-by down. He'll also be calling down the hall if he hears you.
"Hey. Soup's up, if you're interested. It's not terrible!" Given the available resources, he considered this an accomplishment. "It's cooled down a bit too."
Spirit meant what he'd said about the soup. She gets a mug and a fork, and Spirit doesn't wait for her to appear so he can offer. Instead, he looks for her through the hospital until he finds her. If she's awake or not it doesn't matter: he kneels beside her, holding the cup carefully in his hands.
"I promised soup. It's not the best I've ever made," he's talking quietly, thoughtfully, as he offers the small mug to her, "but it's better than what's in the cans, and it isn't too heavy. Should sit in your stomach all right."
no subject
Well, she'd messed up enough without also pissing off the person still trying to take care of her after the debacle of last night.
Still, she pulled the blanket back up, cinching it tight around her throat so Spirit couldn't see any of the other scars dotting her body before she also glanced at the crow. "Oh. He's not bad, not really. I don't think he liked me too much in the beginning, but he's coming around I think. That or we're just used to each other now..."
Not helping, Kit.
no subject
He is still staring at the crow somewhat warily, but there's less anxiety in his eyes. He settles with her against his side again, frowning.
"You...uh," how does he phrase this politely? "Didn't initially get along with him? I thought animals didn't stick around if they don't like you."
no subject
Kit chuckled, though it turned into a bit of cough halfway through. "I don't think I was as ... intent as he was hoping for." That was the understatement of the century, but she wasn't exactly ready to go into that just yet. One secret at a time, thank you very much.
"I don't think I can eat anymore. I'm sorry. It was good, I just...I don't feel good."
no subject
When she declines further soup, Spirit nods, slowly. "That's fine. Even the little bit is good for you, you know?"
The mug is placed aside, and he fusses over the blankets. "Are you warm enough? I can sit here for a while if you'd like company. I do know how to sit quietly, if that's what you'd prefer."
no subject
At his offer to stay, she quickly shook her head, digging down into herself to pull herself back up to a proper sit. No more leaning, right.
"No, it's okay. I'm alright. I'm just going to go back to sleep."
She was a terrible liar, but she didn't give him a chance to argue before she was arranging her blankets so that she could be completely cocooned once she laid down again.
no subject
"If it's all the same to you, I think I might sit for a bit." She's entirely bundled now, and likely can't see the rather solemn expression he wore.
"Gotta let this old man take a break or two from all this running around, you know?" This too is a lie. Even from just the sheet yesterday it's clear that the redhead is fairly strong; to suggest he's weak and tired is some kind of ridiculous.
"Just till you're asleep."
Dadstincts go!
no subject
Right?
"Yeah, okay. I don't mind, I'm just...not good company."
Which was probably the understatement of the year. Laying back down on her pallet of old coats she'd found in the lockers when she'd first explored them, she was careful to keep herself from curling in closer to him...but she also didn't pull away.
He was offering her the comfort of company and she wasn't anywhere near strong willed enough to refuse it.