Fifth Floor Hallway to Room 525, Friday Late Afternoon
Eric
Eric was very excited.
Not, in fact, the way most people were excited the past few days. Well, that, too, but he was fifteen and male, that was a given. No, in this particular instance, most of his glee was focused on the package he'd just received from Fedex: a waffle-iron.
Only Eric van der Woodsen would buy a $600 waffle iron for his high school dorm room.
As it was, he was whistling cheerily as he walked down the hall to his room, ready to try out the waffle-iron for the first time.
Arthur
Arthur, meanwhile, had come looking on the fifth floor for one of those drinks-in-cans. Merlin had made himself scarce for now - couldn't find him anywhere when you needed him, except things were strange, and perhaps avoidance was a good thing - but at least the inventions of the time left him to some self-service.
Of course, he wasn't acquainted enough for drink-in-a-can that he didn't find himself in the hallway with said can, fidgeting slightly with the lip. Push it up, right?
Eric
"Arthur! Hi!" Eric said, glee pouring out of every pore, as he saw the older boy. "I have a waffle iron! Want one?"
No, it didn't even occur to him that the other boy might not know what a waffle is.
Arthur
Arthur abandoned his aluminum can project for the day. It wasn't that important anyway. He tilted his head at Eric - he was managing to almost equal Zack in his cheer. That was something. "A waffle iron," he repeated.
Something weird, that is.
Eric
Eric nodded most enthusiastically. "Yes! For making waffles. Belgian waffles, so they're the really thick ones, and I actually already got a bunch of toppings, 'cause I knew it would be here soon, and I can totally make you one if you want."
He glanced at the can. "Having trouble with it? I know sometimes they can be a little finicky."
Arthur
"I have no idea what a waffle iron is," Arthur said, in that kind of friendly, you-baffle-me tone he reserved for lesser nobles talking rubbish that confused the hell out of him. "I think I can handle a can," he continued, "It's just being--"
Pause.
"'Finicky'."
Eric
"Oh my God you have to come try one, then," Eric insisted, leading the way to his room where, through an acrobatic juggling of the large box, his saddlebag, and his keys, he got the door open. "Seriously, they're amazing. They're like this cake thing? Kinda like a pancake, except they've got indents -- not all the way through, just to, like, hold toppings and things. And the waffle iron's designed for making them."
Arthur
So a waffle would be... food. Or, in this case, free food.
Arthur was a little busy staring at Eric's back. This week was bloody disorienting, if nothing else. "So you're a baker," he surmised, in the same way that he'd surmised the same about Francine a while ago. "No wonder you were so rubbish with the sword to start with."
Eric
Eric shrugged. "Not, like, as a trade or anything," he insisted. "I'll probably end up in law school or something. But I like baking, yeah. It's something I've done before. Unlike using a sword."
He glanced back at Arthur, and the can. "Want me to get that for you?" he asked.
Arthur
"I can handle it," he repeated, although not quite as harshly. No need to rag on the boy for trying to be helpful.
... Arthur was hungry. He'd blame that. "If you've got any talent at all, you'll get a handle on it with enough practice," he said, as he fiddled with the lip again. "If not, you'll at least amuse some by flailing."
He meant that kindly.
Eric
Eric nodded. "Did I look okay, with the drills yesterday?" he asked, moving to start unpacking the waffle-iron. There was a space on his desk already cleared for it, so he set it up there, the unfamiliar appliance nonetheless taking shape very quickly in front of them.
"This'll just take a few seconds to heat up," he added, pulling out some cooking spray and greasing up the iron. "Could you grab the batter out of the fridge? I knew it was coming today, so I made some up earlier. It's in the green bowl?"
Arthur
So he was in a relative unknown's - Eric's - apartment, promised food, and now asked to pick something up out of something he wasn't actually fully schooled on.
He shot Eric's back a mildly confused look.
Of course, in Arthur's world, generally, things like cake just happened. "You weren't failing as bad as you could have," he allowed, finally. Not that that said much around here. "I'm not a cook."
Eric
"I'll take take that as a compliment," Eric said, laughing and nodding to the mini-fridge. "In there, green bowl," he explained. "And trust me, it's a lot easier to learn to cook than it is to use a sword."
Arthur
"I know which one I'd rather settle for," he said, dryly, but yanked open the fridge. Cold. "Why rangering, if you can't even lift a blade?"
There was a bowl there. The cold was nicer, however, so he lingered for a moment before he actually bothered to reach for it.
[[ and cont'd in the comments, for eric. *plays porn music applicable for waffleporn* ]]