[Sam Tyler] What's cookin'?
Who: Sam Tyler, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Locke
When: Day 36, evening
Where: The cook/signal fire (eventually)
Invited: Everyone
Status: Complete
Sam's quarry stank. He strode out of the jungle praying that the pair of dead, overgrown lemmings he carried -- he hadn't a clue what the Corgi-sized rodents were -- hadn't permanently stunk ( Read more... )
When: Day 36, evening
Where: The cook/signal fire (eventually)
Invited: Everyone
Status: Complete
Sam's quarry stank. He strode out of the jungle praying that the pair of dead, overgrown lemmings he carried -- he hadn't a clue what the Corgi-sized rodents were -- hadn't permanently stunk ( Read more... )
She nodded, her tones deadpanned. "Yes. Daffy Duck. Ambassadors of worlds not discovered for another couple hundred years have heard of him." She couldn't resist... but it was true! G'kar knew him... Londo... Delenn, even.
She was done, and she placed her plate to the side and took up the fronds, placing them on her lap. The chances were good that she wouldn't learn the skill tonight, so she just toyed with them for a moment.
John got a grin in return, 'Russkie'. She'd gave, gotten, and she had no intention of not being generous in return. "Like I said, it was one of the few recreations we had. Not the best, or... not as good as the others, but I've held my own... watched a few games on the vid when they got beamed through on ISN. The station was in an uproar for the World Series... The Captain was a fan."
The newly arrived to the fire took her attention for a moment, and she nodded and offered a half wave. "The rat is good." She didn't care what it was, honestly. She'd had... stranger stuff. "Don't mind the crunchy bits."
The fact that Sam'd caught it brought her regard around back to the detective, and, it seemed that she's been saying it a lot today, "Thank you. It's kind of nice to eat -real- meat for a change... Well... something immediately recognizable." Spoo. Flarn. That... live, gross, wriggly thing that tries to escape that the Drazi enjoy so much? Nothankyou.
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He does give a nod to those he knows, stepping in to take a plate and some offered food before finding a clear spot to sit down, "By the way, Stephen Franklin for those who don't know. I'm new around these parts." He looks down at his food and then back at Susan, "Anything the Drazi eat is usually questionable, though not near as questionable as what the Pak eat."
Stephen then turned his attention to Marcus, largely because earlier in the day the man was actually dead, "So Marcus, how are you feeling? And if you simply say fine I may have to beat you into unconsciousness just for the sheer pleasure of it. Do you have any idea how much I hate that word?"
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Sam grinned. "My pleasure. And it's not rat." The statement, although not defensive, raised a few eyebrows. "It's nutria."
"Nutria?"
"Yeah. They're, ah..." Sam chuckled from the only description he could come up with. "Pretty much big rats. But tasty!" He took a big bite of roast nutria, earning more laughter.
The attention made him a bit self-conscious. Sam was used to CID's scowls and sour looks when he pointed out how many laws and procedures they were ignoring. This was different and fun.
"Honestly," Sam added, "the game I can hunt is limited to small animals. My slingshot could probably take down a juvenile boar, but not without provoking the sow." The thought made him shudder.
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She'd take him aside later, just; not yet.
Marcus took the plate from Aeryn with a small smile of thanks, then looked at Stephen, "so you're saying that even if I am feeling fine, (which I am, by the way), then I'm not allowed to use that word?" He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he looked between those gathered close by. "So what am I to say? I'm tickety boo?" he cast a quick wink to Sam, aware that it was an anachronistic phrase, that was wholly English.
"Or am I to say that I'm feeling weak as a kitten and that I can't do any work on a shelter? Or even to lie to you all and say that I'm on death's door." he whispered the last, feigning a weakness to his voice that spoke of ailment and frailty.
"Or should I just say that I'm fine and make you suffer for it?" Really, he FELT fine, there wasn't any other description for it, considering he'd been dead this morning.
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Stephen's appearance at fireside garnered a smile from the commander, though it shifted slightly towards the ... amused. She briefly considered tossing something at him, but other than small sand pebbles and the few broken shells, she was at a loss. "I thought you'd have noticed that I actually own a set last physical you made me go through."
She made a face at the mention of the ... less than culinarily disposed Pak'ma'ra, and shook her head. "You know... I don't know if they had meatballs... and truthfully, I'm pretty sure I'll live a happy life not knowing the answer." For the benefit of others, she added, "The Pak'ma'ra. Carrion eaters... anything dead was fair game. Dead for longer periods of time, even better. Those aliens that required encounter suits to breathe our air even complained about their... unique..." Odor? Stench? "Well, you didn't want to get into the lift with one."
Boar? Susan's brows rose, her curiousity piqued. "Sounds like a hunting team, then?" While she probably wouldn't go, the idea was interesting. "You're that good with a slingshot?"
Aeryn got a curious look, a questionning glance, though she'd let it be for now. The fact that she got Marcus a plate gave the commander a pang of guilt, and she, too, looked over at the Ranger in brief apology. She'd never considered doing that before; he was a big boy... and, honestly, she didn't even know what he preferred-- meat? Vegetables? She didn't cook Minbari food, and even if she knew, she was no cook...
However, as Marcus began his treatise on how 'well' he felt, she had to grin. Stephen asked for it; opened the door, put out the welcome mat-- "Oh, I don't think he's suffered anywhere near enough." Particularly for the 'leg' comment. She looked at the Ranger, her hand waving the frond, "I got lessons-- From Sam and Molly. After I revisit mine, I can actually help with that..." Kitten! If she was sitting near him, she could elbow him, but he's out of range. Little disappointed, honestly.
Settling in a little, there came a question that she'd actually considered, speaking of shelters. "What's the watch rotation overnight? It's actually something I can help with." Which then allowed Susan and Marcus to hotbunk, assuming, of course, the Ranger chose to take a shift as well. "I assume four hours on, four off?" She paused... "Or...?"
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