Who: Raikov and Miller What: Miller attempts to serenade Raikov Where: The teacher's dorm building When: Monday, July 19th, evening. SUNSET DESU Warnings: Gaybutts and bad singing.
"These goods are delicate." He reluctantly accepted the hand, taking cold comfort that as long as he held it it couldn't attack his precious crotch again. "Besides, you've already seen it."
He adjusted his glasses with his free hand and grumbled. First Raikov insulted his ~beautiful singing.~ Then he MANHANDLED HIM. Three strikes and he was out. Miller didn't have to take this abuse!
Although abuse in the form of brutal interrogations and face-punchings were a total turn-on for him.
Miller was more concerned about the injuries his ego sustained than anything else. But he would press on for now. Besides, he was getting a little hungry himself. He turned away from Raikov and located the kitchen. Or at least what served as one in the faculty dorm rooms.
He poked through the cupboards and fridge, making a mental inventory while he decided what to make.
And so he set about preparing one! Back when he was working on a tight schedule to whip up a meal for dozens to hundreds of soldiers as quickly as possible, he might have just gone down to business. But since there were only two stomachs to feed, and he had an audience to impress, he decided to be a little flashy.
This involved tossing tomatoes and cucumbers and heads of lettuce into the air over his back and catching them, twirling them on his finger, and other such unnecessary things. And then he accidentally chopped a finger off oops
Oh. Oh my. This was quite an impressive show, especially for just a salad. Raikov smiled, although Miller being flashy was sort of slowing down the process...
"These goods are delicate." He reluctantly accepted the hand, taking cold comfort that as long as he held it it couldn't attack his precious crotch again. "Besides, you've already seen it."
He adjusted his glasses with his free hand and grumbled. First Raikov insulted his ~beautiful singing.~ Then he MANHANDLED HIM. Three strikes and he was out. Miller didn't have to take this abuse!
Although abuse in the form of brutal interrogations and face-punchings were a total turn-on for him.
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Miller was more concerned about the injuries his ego sustained than anything else. But he would press on for now. Besides, he was getting a little hungry himself. He turned away from Raikov and located the kitchen. Or at least what served as one in the faculty dorm rooms.
He poked through the cupboards and fridge, making a mental inventory while he decided what to make.
"How about a salad to start things off?"
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This involved tossing tomatoes and cucumbers and heads of lettuce into the air over his back and catching them, twirling them on his finger, and other such unnecessary things. And then he accidentally chopped a finger off oops
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FINALLY, Miller finished his little performance and with a flourish, placed a bowl in front of Raikov. "Tadaa. Of course, eating this means I've won."
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He happily wolfed down his own salad, completely unaware of his LACK OF TACT.
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Oh. Oops. That was okay, since Miller had a back-up plan.
He slowed his eating down, savouring every bite. "Mm... It's good..."
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He sloooowly reached for Raikov's bowl...!
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"You haven't won just yet, dear Kaz."
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