[Brisk footfalls echo throughout the vacant halls. Howard Link strides towards his destination with purpose, a thick book of recipes tucked underneath one arm. Although it's nearly six in the morning, he's dressed as though he'd been awake for quite some time. Where could he be off to at this ungodly hour, when the rest of the Dressing Room's
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Just a moment!
[--and the sound of some hasty rushing about. Clearly he doesn't do on the dot too well. At any rate, the door falls open a moment later to reveal Allen, all dressed and ready to go. Don't mind the distant look in his eyes suggesting he's not all there yet. He's also... not exactly slouching, because gentlemen don't slouch, but he's definitely listing to one side like he'd very much like to go back to sleep against the door frame. Timcanpy's (also droopy) presence on his shoulder helps prop his head up. Have first a muffled yawn, and then a sheepish smile.]
Good morning, Link.
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Good morning, Walker. All ready to go? And stand up straight.
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It's too early for that, Link. Just be glad I'm not flat on the floor.
[He attempts to right his posture nonetheless; a pity it only succeeds in making him list in the opposite direction. Stepping into the corridor, he shuts the door behind him to show that he is indeed ready to go.]
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[Or he tried to. Hoping Allen is coherent enough to follow along, Link swiftly turns on his heel and retraces his steps, intending to lead them to one of the kitchens. Thankfully, the journey proves rather uneventful without the usual myriad of (in Link's opinion) outrageous characters running around.]
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[Allen has to hurry to catch up at first, eventually settling into a steady pace one step behind and to the left of Link, feet dragging juuuuuuuuust the slightest bit in protest at the unholy hour. Good thing the inspector remembers the way, because he certainly doesn't.
He looks up a moment later and breaks the silence with an awkward--] I'm afraid I didn't get you anything, but... Happy birthday.
[Allen still hasn't gotten the knack of wishing gifts into existence in the DR. Probably never will, since he doesn't really believe in wishing. Hoping, yes, and also beating himself black and blue and bloody to get things done, but not wishing.]
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Thank you for the sentiments, Walker, but it is hardly expected of you to provide every 'me' you run across with a gift. Now, I believe the cream puff recipe is on page thirty-six. I placed a tab along the edge to assist you with finding it. Do make yourself useful.
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Er... How exactly should I make myself useful? Should I--[a vague gesture at the page]--begin by trying to locate the ingredients?
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You know as much about this particular kitchen as I do.
[Meaning nothing, but that doesn't stop Link from opening and closing cabinets and drawers. He already knew most what he was looking for, anyway.]
Start searching. We'll be needing a whisk and bowls.
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Alright, I'm on it.
[And he does get right down to business, tackling his task with the frightening intensity of a parasite type starting to feel the first pangs of morning hunger. Everything that looks vaguely relevant is being tugged out of hiding and lined up on the counter.]
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That looks like everything. I believe we can get started.
[Link turns his attention on Allen.]
I'm going to heat the saucepan. Can you promise not to eat anything while my back is turned?
[Specifically the nearby chocolate bars.]
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...
You're asking a lot of him, Link.]
Does that mean I can start as soon as you're looking?
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[Link assumes he wouldn't dare. With his back facing Allen and his attention focused solely on adding pinches of flour and salt to the heating saucepan, those bars of chocolate have just become fair game... along with everything else edible.]
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Tim?
[Hear that, Link? That is most definitely someone talking with his mouth full of food.]
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Walker, that had better be Timcanpy in your mouth.
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Actually, I can't seem to find him. Did you see where he went?
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Not since earlier. Where did you see him last? Wasn't he on your shoulder?
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