[Marcus] - An attempt at romance
Who: Marcus & Susan
When: Just after dark
Where: Between the shelters of Marcus and Susan
Invited: SEMI-Open - Susan primarily invited
Status: Incomplete
The dry tinder that Marcus was using to bake the fish was so dry that there was no smoke, but he did keep looking up and out to the camp, then back to the leaf-wrapped fish to ensure that noone was coming.
With any luck, John was able to get the word around that nothing was to disturb him.
Having shed the heavy ranger's robes, Marcus had found that a white t-shirt and black jeans were very comfortable in the early evening, and so, dressed like this, had prepared dinner.
A small log had been found, wheeled towards the small clearing between the two huts and two logs were seated either side.
Plates consisted of large bark-slivers, carefully placed, with two large fan-leaves on top of each, a spash of bright green against the dull wood.
He glanced over to the leaves, sizzling and popping lightly as the contents baked. Yes, nearly ready.
There was a 'salad' of exotic but wholly edible leaves. Something had to be said for survival training, and the Anla'shok had a heavy regime of it. So easy now to identify edible items, that the salad even looked appetising, scented with lemon-grass and fennel.
Finally, chilled by sea-water, the bottle of wine he'd been given by the TARDIS sat next to the glass he'd put out for Susan.
It was ready at last.
Retrieving the packages of fish, he carefully set them on each plate, then with a smirk turned to the fire. Reaching into the bucket nearby, he pulled a large handful of grass, soaking wet and dripping, he tossed it on to the fire.
It wasn't exactly smoke that rose, more like steam... but the effect was almost instant as a torrent of steam arose, white against the purple of the sky.
He waited patiently... Well, as patiently as he could.
When: Just after dark
Where: Between the shelters of Marcus and Susan
Invited: SEMI-Open - Susan primarily invited
Status: Incomplete
The dry tinder that Marcus was using to bake the fish was so dry that there was no smoke, but he did keep looking up and out to the camp, then back to the leaf-wrapped fish to ensure that noone was coming.
With any luck, John was able to get the word around that nothing was to disturb him.
Having shed the heavy ranger's robes, Marcus had found that a white t-shirt and black jeans were very comfortable in the early evening, and so, dressed like this, had prepared dinner.
A small log had been found, wheeled towards the small clearing between the two huts and two logs were seated either side.
Plates consisted of large bark-slivers, carefully placed, with two large fan-leaves on top of each, a spash of bright green against the dull wood.
He glanced over to the leaves, sizzling and popping lightly as the contents baked. Yes, nearly ready.
There was a 'salad' of exotic but wholly edible leaves. Something had to be said for survival training, and the Anla'shok had a heavy regime of it. So easy now to identify edible items, that the salad even looked appetising, scented with lemon-grass and fennel.
Finally, chilled by sea-water, the bottle of wine he'd been given by the TARDIS sat next to the glass he'd put out for Susan.
It was ready at last.
Retrieving the packages of fish, he carefully set them on each plate, then with a smirk turned to the fire. Reaching into the bucket nearby, he pulled a large handful of grass, soaking wet and dripping, he tossed it on to the fire.
It wasn't exactly smoke that rose, more like steam... but the effect was almost instant as a torrent of steam arose, white against the purple of the sky.
He waited patiently... Well, as patiently as he could.