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[john_ofdarkness]

This is John, on his shift cooking dinner. He has got a recipe book propped open on the counter, as well as some tender greens and herbs laid out, and there are strips of rabbit meat on the cutting board. There is also the basket of crackplot apples that Rosencrantz brought in, but John will be damned if he makes anyone here a cobbler

Comments

[queen_oracle]

Mickle cartwheels neatly into the kitchen and sits on the counter. To-day she is wearing dungarees and a silk Chinese shirt, the kind that button all the way up the front-side and the neck, green with embroidery. Her crazy smiling dancing laughing hair is running wild.

[john_ofdarkness]

John raises a brow. Then another brow.

"I didn't know this was a cabaret," he says at last.

[queen_oracle]

"It's whatever I want it to be."

[john_ofdarkness]

"Aren't you special, duck." He starts chopping greens. Roast will do. "Are you here to cook, or just to do gymnastics?"

[notsincecarrie]

*enter Buzz, looking a bit more haggard than usual* Well well well, if it isn't my favorite British composer this side of Andrew Lloyd Webber!

[john_ofdarkness]

Ohgoodnessright. John is unfortunately quite a bit slower than his typist at figuring out what's wrong with Buzz. "And if it isn't my favorite" a quick once-over "rumpled, sleepless American musicals fanatic."

[notsincecarrie]

The one and only. What are you making?

[john_ofdarkness]

"Roast Rosemary Rabbit." A smirk. "Although since we don't have rosemary, it's more like Roast Tarragon Rabbit--but that doesn't quite roll off of the tongue."

[zjendjan]

Zjen (not dead, not gone, just sort of... doing his own thing) wanders in and grabs a few apples from the basket, absentmindedly juggling them for a moment. "What are you doing?"

[john_ofdarkness]

"Making dinner. Or hadn't you heard? The plothole's buggered off." Maybe he can convince Zjen to make a cobbler.

[zjendjan]

He takes a bite from one of the apples, shoving the rest into his pockets. Nothing happens. Perhaps he got a non-crackplotted one, perhaps it's only waiting, who knows. "I heard." He speaks around a mouth full of apple. "I just didn't think you were the sort to be making dinner."

[john_ofdarkness]

"Striking character judgment, duck. It's that or go hunting if I want to eat." He's mostly through with the cooking bit by now; it's probably starting to smell lovely. "I'm not so awful at cooking."

[tinylittleonion]

*is pleased, to see someone brought the apples he grew to the kitchen, even just for people to come along and snack on -- but he stops to enjoy the smell of cooking things, and won't say a thing unless he's needed to*

[john_ofdarkness]

Then John will cock an eyebrow at him. "Hello, duck."

[tinylittleonion]

*with a smile, small, like a lit candle* Hello. Forgive me -- would you like any help?

[john_ofdarkness]

*a bit of a salacious grin* It's a pity you mean the food.