I tried so very hard not to lose it [closed/in progress]

[adoctornotamuse]

WHO: McCoy, Mitsuru, Abel, Seven and Kaylee. (Maybe Tressel? Idk... ==;)
WHAT: Thanksgiving dinner, southern style... Okay, maybe not so much.
WHERE: McCoy's house of specialness...
WHEN: Backlogged to Thanksgiving

Comments

[nothing_human]

Seven was hesitant to venture downstairs--the sounds of clattering and chaos coming out of the kitchen were enough to even give the ex-Borg pause, used as she was to the more organized chaos of Voyager's daily routines. Or the complete anarchy of one of their less friendly interactions with the Delta Quadrant. Even a starship battle seemed more controlled than what was happening in the house at the moment.

The yelling was what finally brought her down. She stood ramrod-straight in the doorway, eyebrow arched, hands clasped behind her back, looking over the kitchen and McCoy's frazzled state coolly, with a small smile on her face.

"I do."

Unexpected, perhaps, but she did grasp the theory behind it--and had even been told that she was rather good at it.

[fatherofmercy]

Abel had already detected the smell of cooking minutes before Mr. McCoy questioned the entire house on who knew how to cook. His mouth was already watering, and his endless pit of a stomach was growling to no end. Maybe if he volunteered to help, he could munch on whatever food was there before it went out on the table?

Truthfully, Abel knew nothing about this "Thanksgiving." Sure, he'd heard about this particular day in the ancient histories of the past-Western world. It involved Pilgrims and Indians, a turkey, giving thanks (to what, he wasn't quite sure), and the consumption of mountains of food. The latter fact, he rather enjoyed.

He was down the stairs and in the kitchen faster than the human eye could see.

"Oh! Mr. McCoy! Whatever you're cooking sure smells wonderful!" he exclaimed in his shrill, excited voice, his hands clasped beside his head. He eyed the perfectly good food (or so he thought) the man was throwing in the trash can and sighed. What a waste.

"What can I help with?"

[shiny_side]

All that stuff about people on boats and big ugly birds hadn't made much sense to Kaylee when Mr. McCoy had been trying to explain it - especially not after the smallpox came up - but she liked any holiday that was all about eatin' yourself stupid. She left her coat by the door and strolled into the house, refreshed from the lick of cold in the island air.

"Who knows how to cook?" Ah, that'd be the doc, in the kitchen from the sound of it. Despite the ominous crashing and cursing coming from that area, Kaylee bounced in with an unshakable smile and an impish light in her eyes

[adoctornotamuse]

McCoy glanced up to see Seven, Abel and Kaylee. Well, at least they were willing to help. He straightened his posture and turned towards them. "I don't care how to know how to make whatever. Just make it." He sighed softly. "Obviously, I'm not having very much luck." His eyes drifted over to Abel who looked pretty happy. How the hell did this man think it smelled good?

Then, there was Kaylee. Bones had no idea what in the world she was talking about. And if he had a little sugar for him? McCoy shook his head. "That's fine. Make your... frybread or whatever it is."

His eyes traveled to each person. "All we have to do is prepare this. I hope you don't mind. I'll be right back. I just... need a second." Bones left the kitchen, just sitting in a chair in the next room. He decided it would be best if he cleared his thoughts and planned the dinner better.

[nothing_human]

Seven tilted her head curiously, but moved into the kitchen. If the Doctor needed emotional support, Kaylee was the one more qualified to give it. She didn't quite understand everything that was going on here, but she certainly didn't have anything else to do but help.