[SCENE] Diego and Phoenix in: "Burger Night"
Wright: *it's a Saturday night in the beginning of the new year--still winter break, for those still concerned about school. At his apartment, Phoenix is digging about in a kitchen cupboard as he and Diego prepare dinner for the girls. Assorted plastic baggies of various spices spill out as he searches around, and he catches a bottle before it threatens to crash onto the counter*
Wright: Ah, there it is. *hands the bottle, upside down, to the other man*
Diego: *takes the bottle of Worcestershire sauce from him, unscrewing the cap and smelling of it approvingly* All right. If you find any chili powder up there, let me know. *turns back to the counter, where he's already set up a large metal bowl with two pounds of hamburger meat in it, and begins to add the sauce to the meat*
Wright: Chili, chili... *rifles through the little bags-- some of them are labelled with tags, others are messily labelled with marker on the bag itself, and the great majority of them are not labelled at all. He unties one of those and sniffs it* Nope.
Wright: *looks up absentmindedly with the baggie of reddish spice in his hands, pondering for a minute* Oh, hold on-- *walks off towards the bedrooms, coming back a few minutes later with a small shaker of dark reddish-brown powder*
Diego: *sets the Worcestershire aside and takes the powder, nodding when he smells it* Mm. *dashes it generously onto the meat, pointedly not asking what in the Hell it was doing in the bedrooms* The last thing we need is two eggs and a sweetener. Steak sauce would probably be best, but if you have any syrup that will work too.
Wright: Syrup? *shakes his head, opening up the fridge door and poking his head in* You know, there's this great burger joint just two blocks down the street that we could've taken the girls to instead... *a pause* Does ketchup work?
Diego: *rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, looking over his shoulder* I've never tried it. I don't suppose it can hurt.
Wright: *takes out the ketchup and sets it on the counter beside the bowl, cracking the eggs and adding them in--not all that expertly; he has to pick out a piece of shell or two* Hmm. I suppose I could get started on the lettuce.
Diego: Good idea. *squirts in some ketchup - not a lot, just enough to sweeten the hamburger a bit - before setting the bottle back down and looking at Phoenix* Got any coffee grinds? Fresh would be better. Instant coffee will do, if it must.
Wright: *raises an eyebrow as he rinses off his hands* Does it always have to taste like coffee with you? *nevertheless he heads over to a drawer, this time easily retrieving out a jar of the instant kind*
Diego: Ha! I'm joking, Trite, I'm joking. *shakes his head, still grinning as he begins to knead the hamburger meat in his hands - the meat's cold, but he likes the numbness it puts in his fingers* "Does it have to taste like coffee"...
Wright: *laughs* With you, who can tell? *puts the jar away and heads to the fridge, pulling out an assortment of condiments* Ketchup, relish, pickles... I suppose we won't need the mayo since Maya's not here. You are making enough to bring her a couple, right?
Diego: I've got another pound back at Kurain for exactly that reason. She treats cold hamburgers like cold coffee: lacking so much in one facet that it ruins the entire experience. *hums to himself as he rolls the hamburger, making sure that he's diffusing the egg yolk* Well, no, she loves cold hamburgers too, I'd just rather make them fresh for her.
Wright: She'd eat a frozen patty in a blackout. *pauses after he takes out the cutting board and lays the prewashed lettuce leaves on it* Actually, I'm pretty sure she tried that, six, seven years ago. We had to make a trip to the drug store for that.
Wright: *takes a knife to the lettuce and the tomatoes--he does it passably well, though the results are rather uneven* Speaking about forgetting things--Engarde's parole hearing is a week from now. It'd nearly slipped my mind.
Diego: Is it? *takes a fistful of hamburger and halves it, dropping one half and rolling the other into a ball* I hadn't heard. *grins* I wonder how far he makes it once he gets out.
Wright: You weren't keeping tabs? *chuckles* Well, the last time de Killer was spotted was four years ago, in Chang Mai. There's still the chance that Engarde'll get away scot free. *starts dicing the onions, craning his head as far away from the cutting board as possible to avoid tearing up* ...But I give him about an hour, tops. *glances over at Diego* Too conservative?
Diego: *laughs* I'm still hoping he panics, stumbles into traffic, and gets hit by a bus. The faculty has a pool going. *smells the ball of hamburger, drops it back in, and adds a touch more chili powder before working it for another minute* Things like that get you thinking about death a lot.
Wright: *glances upwards thoughtfully as he finishes the onions-he has to blink a few times to get the sting out* Living where you are, I'd find it hard to believe you could go a day without thinking about it. It gets pretty dreary with that constant flood of channelling clients, doesn't it?
Diego: *shifts immediately into the voice of a woman - she sounds to be in her late forties, and as if she were wearing too much hair spray* Oh Mystic Maya, why can't you try to channel my dog Fifi so I can see how she's doing? I just don't understand!
Wright: A ha ha. Dreary or all too amusing, I guess. *fishes out a couple of pickles from the jar with his fingers--these, he dices up as well*
Diego: You'd think, but I think about death constantly anyway. It's ever-present, a filter through which the drippings of my life seep. *takes out another handful and holds it up in Phoenix's direction* Come smell this.
Wright: *raises an eyebrow in amusement and leans in, giving it a sniff* Smells... like meat? With chili?
Diego: Thanks, Trite, yes, that is exactly what I wanted to know. Does it smell savoury?
Wright: You'd think that working seven years in a restaurant would teach me how to judge food, but I still can't differentiate okroshka from cold borscht. *shrugs, going back to the cutting board* Smells pleasant enough.
Diego: Ha! I can ask for nothing more, considering the object of my supplication. I'm going to need a plate for these red devils, though. *is silent for a moment, still kneading the hamburger even though it doesn't really need more at this point* There's something I want to ask of you.
Wright: Hm? *reaches into a cupboard with dill-slick hands, taking out a plate. His eyes look slightly less sleepy than usual as they watch the other man* What is it?
Diego: *doesn't look up, though he begins shaping the patties in the bowl* It's a bit late to ask, and the pot's nearly cold, but I want you to be Pearl's godfather.
Wright: Godfather? *sets down the plate beside Diego* You're baptising her?
Diego: *looks up at Phoenix, his mouth set in a line, before going back to making the patties* I want you to care for her if anything happens to me. She can cope with the idea of me dying, but I want her to have a father in her life. Her family suffers too much from a lack of fathers.
Wright: *looks as though he's about to crack a joke-- but reconsiders. He moves over to the rather clunky countertop grill and turns the knob to start heating it up* You don't need to worry about that. I'd do it even if you didn't ask.
Diego: *nods, setting the patties on the plate one by one - there's enough for eight decently sized burgers* I have enough set aside that you wouldn't have to worry about putting her through college. *looks up again as he sets down the last patty* There is a caveat, though.
Wright: *chuckles, reaching over on the counter to where his current bottle of half-finished grape juice is standing* I knew there'd be a catch to it. *unscrews it and takes a swig* Well?
Diego: *steps over to the sink and begins to wash his hands* If anything happens to me, you let her in.
Wright: *wipes his mouth and grins a lazy grin* ...Sure. She can have my room.
Diego: *doesn't respond to that, not looking at the other man as he shuts off the water and dries his hands with a paper towel* Pearl loves you, and if anything happened to me I don't think she could cope with you holding her at arm's length.
Wright: She won't have to. *swirls the bottle around absently before setting it back down--and then, just as smoothly, he opens up the top of the small grill* Seems like it's ready, now.
Diego: *walks back over to the plate* Now that's what I like to hear! *grabs the plate and slaps Phoenix on the ass with a not-entirely-dry hand, leaving a wet hand print on the seat of his pants* Let's make some burgers.
Wright: A ha ha--*grabs a pair of tongs and cranks his head over towards the bedroom hallway* Trucy, Pearls! Dinner will be ready in a minute.
Wright: Ah, there it is. *hands the bottle, upside down, to the other man*
Diego: *takes the bottle of Worcestershire sauce from him, unscrewing the cap and smelling of it approvingly* All right. If you find any chili powder up there, let me know. *turns back to the counter, where he's already set up a large metal bowl with two pounds of hamburger meat in it, and begins to add the sauce to the meat*
Wright: Chili, chili... *rifles through the little bags-- some of them are labelled with tags, others are messily labelled with marker on the bag itself, and the great majority of them are not labelled at all. He unties one of those and sniffs it* Nope.
Wright: *looks up absentmindedly with the baggie of reddish spice in his hands, pondering for a minute* Oh, hold on-- *walks off towards the bedrooms, coming back a few minutes later with a small shaker of dark reddish-brown powder*
Diego: *sets the Worcestershire aside and takes the powder, nodding when he smells it* Mm. *dashes it generously onto the meat, pointedly not asking what in the Hell it was doing in the bedrooms* The last thing we need is two eggs and a sweetener. Steak sauce would probably be best, but if you have any syrup that will work too.
Wright: Syrup? *shakes his head, opening up the fridge door and poking his head in* You know, there's this great burger joint just two blocks down the street that we could've taken the girls to instead... *a pause* Does ketchup work?
Diego: *rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, looking over his shoulder* I've never tried it. I don't suppose it can hurt.
Wright: *takes out the ketchup and sets it on the counter beside the bowl, cracking the eggs and adding them in--not all that expertly; he has to pick out a piece of shell or two* Hmm. I suppose I could get started on the lettuce.
Diego: Good idea. *squirts in some ketchup - not a lot, just enough to sweeten the hamburger a bit - before setting the bottle back down and looking at Phoenix* Got any coffee grinds? Fresh would be better. Instant coffee will do, if it must.
Wright: *raises an eyebrow as he rinses off his hands* Does it always have to taste like coffee with you? *nevertheless he heads over to a drawer, this time easily retrieving out a jar of the instant kind*
Diego: Ha! I'm joking, Trite, I'm joking. *shakes his head, still grinning as he begins to knead the hamburger meat in his hands - the meat's cold, but he likes the numbness it puts in his fingers* "Does it have to taste like coffee"...
Wright: *laughs* With you, who can tell? *puts the jar away and heads to the fridge, pulling out an assortment of condiments* Ketchup, relish, pickles... I suppose we won't need the mayo since Maya's not here. You are making enough to bring her a couple, right?
Diego: I've got another pound back at Kurain for exactly that reason. She treats cold hamburgers like cold coffee: lacking so much in one facet that it ruins the entire experience. *hums to himself as he rolls the hamburger, making sure that he's diffusing the egg yolk* Well, no, she loves cold hamburgers too, I'd just rather make them fresh for her.
Wright: She'd eat a frozen patty in a blackout. *pauses after he takes out the cutting board and lays the prewashed lettuce leaves on it* Actually, I'm pretty sure she tried that, six, seven years ago. We had to make a trip to the drug store for that.
Wright: *takes a knife to the lettuce and the tomatoes--he does it passably well, though the results are rather uneven* Speaking about forgetting things--Engarde's parole hearing is a week from now. It'd nearly slipped my mind.
Diego: Is it? *takes a fistful of hamburger and halves it, dropping one half and rolling the other into a ball* I hadn't heard. *grins* I wonder how far he makes it once he gets out.
Wright: You weren't keeping tabs? *chuckles* Well, the last time de Killer was spotted was four years ago, in Chang Mai. There's still the chance that Engarde'll get away scot free. *starts dicing the onions, craning his head as far away from the cutting board as possible to avoid tearing up* ...But I give him about an hour, tops. *glances over at Diego* Too conservative?
Diego: *laughs* I'm still hoping he panics, stumbles into traffic, and gets hit by a bus. The faculty has a pool going. *smells the ball of hamburger, drops it back in, and adds a touch more chili powder before working it for another minute* Things like that get you thinking about death a lot.
Wright: *glances upwards thoughtfully as he finishes the onions-he has to blink a few times to get the sting out* Living where you are, I'd find it hard to believe you could go a day without thinking about it. It gets pretty dreary with that constant flood of channelling clients, doesn't it?
Diego: *shifts immediately into the voice of a woman - she sounds to be in her late forties, and as if she were wearing too much hair spray* Oh Mystic Maya, why can't you try to channel my dog Fifi so I can see how she's doing? I just don't understand!
Wright: A ha ha. Dreary or all too amusing, I guess. *fishes out a couple of pickles from the jar with his fingers--these, he dices up as well*
Diego: You'd think, but I think about death constantly anyway. It's ever-present, a filter through which the drippings of my life seep. *takes out another handful and holds it up in Phoenix's direction* Come smell this.
Wright: *raises an eyebrow in amusement and leans in, giving it a sniff* Smells... like meat? With chili?
Diego: Thanks, Trite, yes, that is exactly what I wanted to know. Does it smell savoury?
Wright: You'd think that working seven years in a restaurant would teach me how to judge food, but I still can't differentiate okroshka from cold borscht. *shrugs, going back to the cutting board* Smells pleasant enough.
Diego: Ha! I can ask for nothing more, considering the object of my supplication. I'm going to need a plate for these red devils, though. *is silent for a moment, still kneading the hamburger even though it doesn't really need more at this point* There's something I want to ask of you.
Wright: Hm? *reaches into a cupboard with dill-slick hands, taking out a plate. His eyes look slightly less sleepy than usual as they watch the other man* What is it?
Diego: *doesn't look up, though he begins shaping the patties in the bowl* It's a bit late to ask, and the pot's nearly cold, but I want you to be Pearl's godfather.
Wright: Godfather? *sets down the plate beside Diego* You're baptising her?
Diego: *looks up at Phoenix, his mouth set in a line, before going back to making the patties* I want you to care for her if anything happens to me. She can cope with the idea of me dying, but I want her to have a father in her life. Her family suffers too much from a lack of fathers.
Wright: *looks as though he's about to crack a joke-- but reconsiders. He moves over to the rather clunky countertop grill and turns the knob to start heating it up* You don't need to worry about that. I'd do it even if you didn't ask.
Diego: *nods, setting the patties on the plate one by one - there's enough for eight decently sized burgers* I have enough set aside that you wouldn't have to worry about putting her through college. *looks up again as he sets down the last patty* There is a caveat, though.
Wright: *chuckles, reaching over on the counter to where his current bottle of half-finished grape juice is standing* I knew there'd be a catch to it. *unscrews it and takes a swig* Well?
Diego: *steps over to the sink and begins to wash his hands* If anything happens to me, you let her in.
Wright: *wipes his mouth and grins a lazy grin* ...Sure. She can have my room.
Diego: *doesn't respond to that, not looking at the other man as he shuts off the water and dries his hands with a paper towel* Pearl loves you, and if anything happened to me I don't think she could cope with you holding her at arm's length.
Wright: She won't have to. *swirls the bottle around absently before setting it back down--and then, just as smoothly, he opens up the top of the small grill* Seems like it's ready, now.
Diego: *walks back over to the plate* Now that's what I like to hear! *grabs the plate and slaps Phoenix on the ass with a not-entirely-dry hand, leaving a wet hand print on the seat of his pants* Let's make some burgers.
Wright: A ha ha--*grabs a pair of tongs and cranks his head over towards the bedroom hallway* Trucy, Pearls! Dinner will be ready in a minute.