(Untitled)

[oh_muh_darlin]

Clementine had been in possibly the best mood that she'd been in in fucking months this week. Especially after Monday, when she'd woken up on Doris to a case of hair dyes. Green orange, and pink. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had pink hair. It had to have been over three years ago. All she remembered was that it had always been a

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[chefjack]

"Oh, jesus," Jack groans when he hears the music and it jolts him from his sleep in the room, sharply glancing around the room and raising his pen like a weapon in case of angry fishmongers or something. Blearily, Jack rubs his eyes, staring at the woman through fuzzy vision.

Is he still dreaming?

"What, are we stuck in the past or something here?"

[oh_muh_darlin]

"Nope," Clementine said, not budging from her spot on the couch, looking at the ceiling, "Just in hell. Go back to sleep."

Her tone was probably too cheery for her words, but it was the truth.

[chefjack]

Jack rubs at his eyes still and the vision goes clearer, clearer and he leans over the couch to stare at the woman. "I've been to hell," he announces casually. "There's not enough prime rib and way too many children dining on pizza made of my soul. It's also brunch. This is not hell."

[oh_muh_darlin]

"Mmm, soul pizza," Clementine commented. "Sounds like my kind of meal. Or, you know, Satan's."

Though, truth be told, in recent days, the island had seemed a lot less like hell that it usuall did.

[chefjack]

Jack's almost starting to grin at that, giving the woman his best 'hi, I'm a famous chef and I can make you orgasm from my profiteroles alone, well, Seth's, but let's not go there'. "Hey, Satan has good taste," he casually says. "I'm Jack, by the way."

[oh_muh_darlin]

She thought about it for a second: whether or not the introduction was worth moving from her spot on the couch. Deciding that it was time that she did something besides lay around all day, she popped up into a sitting position, then crossed the room to where he sat.

"Clementine." She said, extending a hand for him to shake.

[chefjack]

Jack leans all the way over, all casual and cook and cocky and everything that Jack basically represents. "You ever had someone cook you something of your namesake?" he asks, with that little sly smile that suggests something mischievous.

[oh_muh_darlin]

Clementine tilted her head to one side. "You mean oranges?" She asked. She'd never been any kind of a culinary genius. Usually, dinner turned out to be something she picked up from a cart. Or Chinese. Or from this great falafel place not far from where she worked.

[chefjack]

Jack gives her a dubious look. "Oranges," he echoes, bluntly. "Who gives you oranges for your namesake? What kind of people do you know?" he scoffs. "No, like, a good angel-food cake with a light layer of clementine-immersed fluffy icing in the middle," Jack narrates. "Possibly tinged with a topping of pure sugar melted into the shape of leaves."

[oh_muh_darlin]

"Okay, if you put it that way...then, no." Clementine replied. Though she was starting to wonder if maybe she was hungry, because that sounded really fucking good right about now.

[chefjack]

"You don't know the right people," Jack informs her casually, like he's not just telling her that everyone she knows is worthless. "You got two hours?"

[oh_muh_darlin]

"I've got all the time in the world." She told him, leaning his way for just a second, saying it like it was a big secret that only he was allowed to know.

[chefjack]

He nods to the kitchen and leans a hand out. "C'mon," he encourages. "You, me, the kitchen, and we'll see what we can't make a mess of, huh?" He's all enthusiasm and charisma, Jack Bourdain, never anything but.

[oh_muh_darlin]

Clementine had a sneaking suspicion that she'd met this type before. Smiles and charm while they tried to worm their way into her pants. Then again, there was the off chance that he really was just a nice guy. The kind that made you clementine cakes.

She couldn't decide whether this was better or worse than when people sang the song.

Regardless, she grabbed his hand and came to her feet. "Lead the way."

[chefjack]

Up she goes and Jack's just happy that there are people who still appreciate the finer points of a good meal. "So, Clementine," he says, letting go of her hand while he wanders into the kitchen, yanking up his chef's coat to get started. "What's your story before the Island of No Explanation?"

[oh_muh_darlin]

"Book slave in New York the past five years," She said, casually, "You know, when I wasn't fighting crime in spandex."

She pulled up a stool at the counter.