I can smell curry cookin', somewhere [Active/OPEN]

[pfauenrad]

Who: Klavier Gavin, OPEN.
Where: Kitchen.
When: Mid Day 02
What: Klavier is very tired. But he cooks!
Warnings: None yet.

Comments

[guardiangunman]

Ricardo was here strictly on business, of course. He was spreading the word about the meeting he would hold later. His presence had nothing at all to do with the aroma of meat and potatoes drifting through the hall.

"Excuse me," he said, opening the door to the kitchen. "If you have a moment--"

But he cut himself off before he could actually explain himself, eyebrows raising slightly as he recognized Klavier.

"Gavin." His eyes flickered over the prosecutor quickly, looking for any signs of injury. Their last meeting had been a little dangerous, after all. "It's good to see you well."

[pfauenrad]

Klavier turned at the sound of his name, still holding the pan of potatoes in his left hand.

And froze.

For a second he simply stood, staring at Ricardo--Ricardo, standing there with his arm free of the sling, clothes unripped, face clean of blood, staring back at him--

The hot pan came crashing to the floor, sending hot oil and potatoes flying across the marble.

[guardiangunman]

Ricardo didn't smile, because it would be cruel to take pleasure in someone else's perfectly reasonable heart attack. He would hate to come off as cruel. What he did do was act as if nothing had happened, and in a situation like this that was enough.

A stray potato caught his boot as it skidded across the floor. He bent down and picked it up.

"You shouldn't waste food," he said. The best poker face in the world couldn't counterbalance the amusement in his voice.

[pfauenrad]

The dropped potatoes were the least of Klavier's concern here.

"You... You--!"

Klavier was momentarily so taken off guard that all he could do was repeat the first word that came to mind, tangled hopelessly in a combination of shock and the effort required to use the English language--his expression, however, spoke volumes. If it weren't for the copious amounts of stunned disbelief, he would have looked positively angry.

"You!" He finally broke through. Then: "You're dead."

[guardiangunman]

Ricardo raised his eyebrows. He was smiling now.

"Is that a statement or a threat?"

He moved forward and busied himself cleaning up the rest of the mess, just in case Klavier started storming around and crushing potatoes under those very nice boots of his.