incomplete/closed

[imcondiments]

Characters: Murdock imcondiments and Face facing_danger

Setting/Location: Kitchen, level IV

Date & Time: Midmorningish on day 12?

Warnings: Er, none?

Summary: The Caravan does not offer room service (what kind of hotel is this, anyway!), so Murdock and Face meet to catch up and see what they can scrounge.

Comments

[facing_danger]

When Face finally showed up, he wasn't as collected or calm as he liked to be. Sure, his hair was in order and his clothing neat, but his shower hadn't gone quite how he expected, to say the least. And what exactly was in the soap they had around here? Its scent was not the kind the conman was accustomed to smell when he set out to face the day and he wasn't sure he liked it.

His dour expression was evident as he entered the kitchen and stopped before his friend. It was too early, he thought, for this. In a better mood, he might have joined in with the song; as it was, he wanted a strong cup of coffee and he wanted it now.

"Cut it out, Murdock. Now's not the time for singing."

[imcondiments]

Murdock broke off mid-verse and poked his head over the top of the cupboard door, giving Face a thoughtful once-over disguised by a cheerfully oblivious expression. It was clear that the conman wasn't in the best of moods, but Murdock couldn't entirely blame him; you had to give a guy a couple of days to get used to a thing like trans-dimensional relocation, after all.

"Well," He said brightly, "Last I checked the time slot for singing was right before the time slot for pancakes. Don't see any pancakes, yet, so I was goin' on instinct."

[facing_danger]

"Well, how about you forgo that slot all together, ok?" Face was not in a supportive mood. Not until he had some coffee, anyhow. "I'd rather the pancakes didn't have a musical number attached."

He crossed the room, moving somewhat away from Murdock to investigate a cupboard on his own in search of either mugs or something with "dark roast" on the label. Unfortunately, he didn't have much luck. "Do you know where they keep the coffee around here?"

[imcondiments]

"Nope." Murdock delved into the supplies once more, pulling out a few promising-looking jars of preserves; maple syrup didn't seem to be something the Caravan kept in stock. "Haven't seen a cup of coffee since I got here, matter of fact. Dunno, maybe Willaknapp doesn't have the climate for it. Or could be it's just hidden."

Withdrawing his head from the cupboard, he straightened up and glanced thoughtfully around the kitchen before indicating a cupboard to Face's left. "Tea's in there. Might be some coffee hiding in the back. Stealthy stuff, coffee."

[facing_danger]

Face nodded in both appreciation and acknowledgment. "In here?" The cupboard didn't carry the familiar aroma of coffee, although as Murdock had said, there seemed to be plenty of tea. He sighed and shut the door. "No coffee. There's no coffee here."

He returned to his original position by his team mate. None of this seemed to have fazed Murdock, he noted. The man had been stuck here a week more than Face and his spirits were just as bright as ever. Typical Murdock.

"So,...pancakes. Does Willaknapp have the climate for that?"

[imcondiments]

"Oh, sure. Pancakes have a very wide-ranging habitat, y'know." Murdock grinned and unscrewed the top of an unlabeled jar of white powder, scooped a bit out with a fingertip, and popped it experimentally in his mouth.

Huh -- well, it was either baking soda or a reasonable facsimile thereof. He eyed the jar thoughtfully for a moment, then set it alongside the slowly growing gathering of ingredients on one counter. What could it possibly hurt, right?

"Alright . . . eggs. Gotta have eggs. And I know for a fact Willaknapp's got chickens, 'cause the place I woke up at kept 'em in the backyard."

[facing_danger]

"Then I guess you didn't wake up in the middle of the woods."

Face moved beside Murdock and examined the jar the pilot had set down. No real thoughtfulness involved, short of an idle curiosity of what it actually held and what his team mate had been able to find. He mused the possibility of the white powder being something other than harmless, but that only served for momentary entertainment. He sighed and set the jar down.

"Is this really how it's going to be from now on?" Face looked to Murdock and frowned. "Riding around until we can figure some sort of transdimentional travel back home?" If nothing else, Face had at least accepted the reality of the situation. The only problem was, in Face's book, he didn't spend the rest of his life being dragged behind a giant.