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o p e n

CHARACTERS: Anne Cunningham
LOCATION: the kitchens
WARNINGS: Anne cursing like a sailor
SUMMARY: Anne attempts to make a sandwich, which is obviously not going to end well.
NOTES: In case you wondered, this is basically Anne cooking.

In the kitchens, there is the sound of loud, superfluous cursing. It's been going on for quite a while at this point, and the sound of it reverberates on the walls of the large kitchen. There are sandwich fixins set up around Anne, and she is attempting to put them onto bread, but keeps spilling everything everywhere. Each time she makes a mistake, she curses loudly and knocks something else over, which just leads to more cursing. It's an endless, painful cycle which doesn't seem to have any sort of happy conclusion in sight.

"God dammit," she hisses at the mayonnaise as she accidentally splatters some on the counter, and she grabs an eggs from the bowl beside her and smashes it over the pathetic attempt at a sandwich. Taking one long, defeated look at the sandwich, she scowls and smashes another egg on it.

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Laughing, he glances at her over his shoulder. "'Better than I'd think' doesn't set that high of a bar." He's no picky eater, but this isn't a recipe he'll be eagerly seeking to replicate.

He shakes his head, "Nah, I got it." A moment later, he emerges from the cupboards triumphantly holding aloft a medium sized pan. "Think this one's good enough?"

"It's not exactly gourmet food, I'll admit." More like 'recently divorced with no idea how to cook for yourself' food. But there's no way that's going to be a topic of discussion. Instead, she just nods at the pan.

"I'd think so. But then again I'm not a culinary wizard."

He widens his eyes and feigns surprise. "You're not? You really had me fooled there."

He walks back over to hand her the pan, and by now he can't keep the smirk off his face. It's all in good fun, of course. "Sure you don't need help with this? I'd hate to see this thing catch on fire."

The corner of Anne's mouth twitches upward just briefly at his sarcasm, and she shakes her head. Taking the pan from him, she mutters a soft thank you and awkwardly shovels the would-be sandwich into it.

"As stupid as I feel asking for supervision, it might not be a bad idea."

Time for some backseat cooking! Firo stands back with his hands in his pockets, but watches closely. "Might wanna put some butter in that. So it doesn't burn." Non-stick pans are a mystery to Firo.

That's probably not helping her feel less stupid. He shrugs. "Hey, everybody's gotta learn sometime, right? Better for all of us if there's somebody around to make sure they don't burn down the kitchen." Yeah. That's encouraging.

Anne scoops up some butter with the spatula and flings it into the pan, none too elegantly. At least in the kitchen, she is far from a woman of grace.

"I guess I'd much rather learn without any incidents than burn down... everything and ruin life for everyone." Not that life is exactly peachy for most people here, but that's beside the point.

Firo nods; graceful or not, at least the butter's in there now.

"We appreciate it. At least I do." He shrugs and adds, "Not that it'd be the worst thing that's happened here, if that makes you feel better."

"So what kinda stuff do you usually make?" Perhaps it's false, but his impression is that if you mess up a sandwich, you're pretty close to rock bottom. "I'm not an expert or anything, but I could teach you how to make some stuff."

A small nod. "I'm sure me burning down the kitchen would pale in comparison to some of the shit we've had to deal with here."

After a moment of staring at what she wants to call a sandwich, but probably technically shouldn't, she sighs. "Well... back home I made ceral and tv dinners. I could usually do that without too many problems. Sometimes toast."

Yes she's truly hit rock bottom.

He raises an eyebrow just at the mention of the foods he recognizes. He of all people can understand that sometimes money just doesn't allow for proper nutrition, but it's a sorry thing if cooking skills are the only barrier. "That doesn't sound too healthy, you know."

Hoping that perhaps the other item she mentioned is something better, he adds: "And what's a tv dinner?" Televisions haven't even come out yet in his time, so the term isn't familiar. Premade packaged foods aren't too common either.

Oh. Right. Different universes. When Anne realizes this, it makes more sense. Especially since for several moments before that she was standing there wondering how he could possibly not know what a tv dinner is.

"A tv dinner is a premade meal in a little tray that you can just heat up. They come with just about any kind of food you can think of so it's pretty easy to have variety. But yeah it's... probably not all that healthy now that I think about it."

Firo blinks as he envisions that. It's really amazing what technology can do. "I don't think there's anything like that where I come from. It sounds really convenient--you don't have a lotta time on your hands?" The nature of his job usually allows him time to loiter at Alveare or cook for himself, but he knows not everybody has that.

She gives a small nod. "Not a lot of time at all. I was a prison guard back home, and that doesn't leave a lot of time for cooking. Not that I would cook anyway, but you get the point."

His mouth falls open, and he quickly looks at the sandwich as he tries to hide his surprise under the guise of making sure it's not burning. "A prison guard? Really?" In his time, he's pretty sure most if not all prison guards are guys, but that's not what's bothering him. While obviously the laws back at home have no sway here, Firo doesn't know how kindly someone on the other side of the law would treat him if his criminal activity came to light. He's a little disappointed to find out that someone who seemed pretty nice turned out to be a cop.

He forces a sarcastic laugh, "That must be a fun job."

Anne sees that barely-hidden surprise, but she's used to it from back home. It doesn't really phase her anymore. She's not used to it on the Tranquility, where there are much stranger things than prison guards running around. So his obvious shock makes her do a double take.

"Yes. Really. My father was one, and I wanted to be just like him, so..." she shakes her head. She can tell how forced the laugh is, and it at least makes her feel like she can be straight with him.

"'Fun' isn't really the word for it. I liked it. It was something I was good at. I got into it to protect the inmates. From each other. But it turns out half the job is protecting them from the other guards. There's a hell of a lot of corruption. My dad was different, so I didn't realize it until I actually got into the work but... prison guards are horrible people. It seems like a lot of them don't even see criminals as human beings and they get into the job to take advantage of the power they get. It's shitty as hell is what it is. I knew this one guard who..."

No. She really doesn't need to be getting into the Sewell end of this topic. So instead she just shakes her head.

"So no. It wasn't fun. I loved it, but there was too much shit for it to be fun. The person I'm with now was one of the inmates, so I at least owe the job that much. But that's all."

And then she pauses.

"Fuck. I went off on a tangent, didn't I? I'm sorry..." with a heavy sigh, she runs a hand over her hair. She really did that, didn't she? She talked about something personal. It was apparently a sign of the apocalypse. "Apparently you're easy to talk to. Anyone ever tell you that?" and several silent moments of looking at the sandwich abomination. "What did you do for a job? Back home."

Having spent some time in prison himself, Firo really can't argue with the need to protect inmates from each other. He saw a few prisoners inflict some brutal injuries and even considered beating the snot out of someone himself.

What does surprise him is that she'd even care. There was a warden back on Alcatraz who chatted with him a few times, but for the most part his experiences with law enforcement have taught him that they don't care what happens to criminals.

He's quiet for a moment after she stops talking, still surprised but now somewhat relieved. She actually sounds like a nice person. Finally, he smiles and shakes his head. "Nah, don't be, it's fine. I asked, didn't I?" He laughs and shakes his head, slightly embarrassed to hear that. "Um, no, but thanks."

The smile wavers a moment later; he was worried this question would come up. If he lies, he could get caught in it considering he's already mentioned his real occupation to someone on board. But she did say she was with an inmate now... So maybe the less horrible crimes don't bother her so much? Hesitantly, he replies, "Me? ...I manage a casino."

"You asked, but you didn't ask to hear my whole life story. I guess that was a little excessive." With a shake of her head, she picks up a plate, sliding the unattractive sandwich out of the pan and onto it. She casts it a despairing look.

Anne watches his smile waver, and she spends a moment focusing on reading his body language. She's nothing if not observant. "A casino? Well that's got to be a hell of a lot more interesting than my job."

He wants to tell her that it was reassuring to hear all that, but to do so would mean voicing his prejudices about people in her and her father's job. Normally he's not too shy about being blunt about such things, but she seems to have dealt with enough and doesn't need to hear it. "Hey, don't worry about it. It was interestin' to hear."

He glances at the sandwich uncertainly. "...It looks better than it did."

When she doesn't lash out--physically or verbally--he relaxes. "You think so? The people aren't always the best to be around and you kinda get used to it after a while so it's not always that interesting." He started out catching cheaters in the same place when he was a kid; the novelty's worn off by now. "I still like it, though. You can learn a lot in a place like that."

"I've got a million stories if you ever get bored," a rough little half-laugh. It's a hoarse one. She doesn't laugh much. "You see things in that job that would make most people throw up."

She follows his gaze to the sandwich. "Thanks...? Looks relatively edible, at least."

"Makes sense. I guess anything gets to feel routine after a while. Always good to have a job you like, though. I know there are people who stick with jobs they hate for years. It never made any damn sense to me."

He perks up at the prospect of stories, but bites his lip to try and keep from getting too enthusiastic. Her reaction just a few moments ago made it seem like she wasn't so fond of spilling personal stories, despite the offer. "Yeah? Well, I'll try not to ask too many questions." Yeah, that promise will last about five minutes. He's always been too nosy for his own good. "I'd imagine, bein' around a rough bunch a' people like that." Referring to both the inmates and some of the guards. Holding fast to his promise for the moment, he doesn't ask for details, even though he's curious what she's seen on her end.

He chuckles. "You'll never know until you try it."

There's a part of Firo that agrees with her, but he remembers being desperate enough that, had he been old enough, he would have taken whatever came his way. "Sometimes you gotta take what you can get, I guess. There're tons of people outta work back home who'd do anything right now."

"Ask all the questions you want. It doesn't matter," with a shrug and a nod, she considers that statement. "Yeah, there're some pretty rough people. Good people too, but not a lot of them. Looking for decent people in that prison is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, I guess you could say."

Setting the hot sandwich aside to cool, she leans her back heavily against the counter and gives it an uneasy look before turning her stare back to him. "I guess I never thought of it that way. I was thinking more of those people who have those miserable corporate level positions because they pay a lot, but they hate them. I guess we don't have a lot of that... desperation, in that world. You guys have a lot of unemployment, then?"

"Careful, I might take you up on that." He nods along to her observation. Aside from the one chatty warden and his friend Isaac, Firo can't say the people he met in prison were decent. Ladd turned out to be crazy and, though friendly, Dragon was a cannibal. And those two are the people Firo could stand to hang out with. "Yeah. Hate to say it, but maybe you're the one decent person were you work."

He tilts his head to the side. "People do that? That's stupid--who cares about all that money if you're miserable?" It's a strange thing for a camorrista to say, but Firo got into the business for his Family, not the money. So long as he's with them, he's happy. "Yeah, there's a lot. The stock market crashed a few years ago and things still haven't picked back up."

Something that looks remarkably like a smile flickers over her face and she just nods slightly. "I wouldn't mind too much. Work is something that I don't mind talking about." Even if occasionally it sometimes leads to topics she'd rather keep in the dark.

When he says that second thing, however, the smile fades somewhat. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I wouldn't say I'm a decent person. Let's just say there's a lot I'm not proud of." A shake of the head, and she dismisses it.

"Yeah, people do that. Back in the world I'm from people care about money a lot. Pretty materialistic and all that," she says, and then gives him a brief look of concern. "Stock market tends to do that. You're doing alright though, back home?"

Making a mental note to grill her for some good stories later, he nods and returns the smile.

He doesn't pursue the matter further, since it seems she wants to drop it. He does tend to rush into judging people, so he can't know for sure if she is that good of a person. But he can compare her to the law enforcement personnel he does know and judging from the motives she expressed, she comes out ahead.

"I'd say it's the same where I'm from. Some people are sayin' that's why the economy got so bad so quick--people just got caught up in all of it." He doesn't really know how to strictly define "all of it", but that's why he's not an economist. "Yeah, I'm fine. There're still some people who haven't been hit too hard and others... well, they want a distraction." Whether or not they have room in their budgets it; that's not Firo's problem.

"People are naturally greedy, I guess is what it is," she says, shaking her head. "It's our own damn fault when things go bad for us; we're always trying to get ahead and it ruins things for us in the process."

Pausing, Anne raises an eyebrow slightly, still smiling.

"And I'm guessing your job is part of that distraction?"

"Greedy? Definitely." He's seen enough selfishness and greed to fill a lifetime. "Nothin' wrong with gettin' ahead, if you do it the right way. I'm just not sure why gettin' to the very top is such a big deal." Did he want badly to become a capo? Of course he did. It's the people who work their way up and then decide to shoot the boss to take his spot that Firo doesn't understand.

He laughs. "Yeah. Just a little less popular than alcohol, I think." Now that the stuff's legal again, his family doesn't make money off of it, but its popularity is visible everywhere. Alcohol and gambling have always seemed to be the two big coping mechanisms where he's from.

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