( open )

[workout]

CHARACTERS: Scott McCall and ????
LOCATION: Kitchens, wherever.
SUMMARY: Scott's making sandwiches!! Yeah it's really exciting. Everyone likes sandwiches, come eat one.
NOTES: This is kind of a catch-all post. The prompt itself is forward dated to after the jump. If we have something else planned or you want to do something else anyway, just toss a vague date and location in the subject and I'll follow your lead.


[ unlike some teenagers, scott's not actually awful at making rudimentary meals. his mom's unpredictable work shifts meant he fended for himself for dinner fairly often, and he'd graduated from things you microwave to things you build out of various parts you dig out of the fridge at some point in his pre-teen years. making sandwiches out of leftovers is an art he's perfected; he's still working on making sandwiches out of various meats that have probably been cryogenically frozen at some point in their lifetimes.

or canned. he still wasn't really sure about the canned meats, so he'd dodged those thus far.

what this breaks down to: scott is making sandwiches. as in more than one, because he's a growing werewolf and he's hungry, and it's also something of a taste/scientific experiment. he's got a row of three on the counter surrounded by various freeze-dry packets and cans. he's already made use of most of them, but he's currently eyeing one can that he's pretty sure contains meat and looking very pensive about it. ]

Comments

[lastisocorn]

[Quorra's spent most of her time so far just wandering around and marveling at the intense realness of everything. The kitchens are perhaps the most mysterious and wondrous place of all, given that they're full of things she's only ever consumed in a purely synthetic capacity. She has no idea how to actually prepare anything, so she's pretty excited to stroll in and find someone already putting stuff together.

Grinning brightly, she leans over the counter, bouncing back and forth on her heels like an excited child as she watches Scott work.]

Hey! Those look pretty good! I don't suppose you'd mind sharing?

[workout]

[ scott's pretty into the can. not enough that he jumps at the enthusiastic greeting, but when he looks up at quorra he does look reasonably surprised, and it's only half because he barely noticed her come in.

can he share these? he's not actually positive they're edible. it's not like the ship would have killer food on it; it's a murder ship, sure, but poisoning the food seems kind of petty. meaning after a few seconds of looking caught in the headlights, scott concludes it's probably safe to share, but- ]

Hi. [ indecision or not, he flashes a smile. ] Yeah, of course. I could probably make you a better one though, these ones are kind of...

[ experimental? that sounds a bit too clinical. ] Weird.

[nebbish]

[George does not, as a rule, interfere. His business is his own. Others' business is their own. His own and others' own do not mix, and nor should they, because that gets messy and George hates nothing so much as a mess.

Which is, coincidentally, what's going on at the other end of the table at this very moment.

But that's the thing. What's more painful - that mess or this? That mess, he decides initially, at the very beginning, as he comes in and prepares to make his pasta puttanesca - one of his most reliable dishes, as it had turned out, as he'd found a patch of fresh basil out in the gardens a week or so ago and that was really the element needed to counterbalance the preserved taste of the remaining ingredients. But he glances over once, when he's begun to set up his mise-en-place, and another time as he sets the heat under the water, and finally it gets to be too much.]

Don't - for God's sake, don't eat that.

[workout]

[ scott subscribes to that keep to your own business rule as well, and he does it a heck of a lot better than george. meaning he's politely ignoring the fact that george is doing a slightly weird not-looking but-obviously-looking thing.

he's working on it, anyway, but even scott has his limits. he's about to offer a smile and a sandwich because hey, maybe the guy's just shy and awkward, but then george beats him to the punch. scott does, obediently, stop what he's doing, brows furrowing slightly.

because wow that's kind of rude bro. ]

Uh... I think it's all edible? I tasted it all on its own.

[ except for the canned meet. he decided he wasn't quite bold enough for that frontier, and the can's been placed next to sandwich #3 in wait. ]

[nebbish]

No, it's -

[He tells himself, shrug and look away; there's nothing wrong with that. There's a lot right with it, as a matter of fact. The British quite enjoy shrugging and looking away. It's a national pastime. But -

He's made a rudimentary sort of pesto from basil, oil, garlic, salt, and some preserved, nutty cheese-like protein. It's nothing brilliant, but it's enough to cover up some of that horrendous warmed-over taste that all the freeze-dried meats have. He fishes it out of the refrigerator and then thumps it down in front of the boy, then nods once, stiffly, and then goes back to his pot.]

[workout]

[ probably also rude is finding the fact that this guy is morally offended by his culinary crimes a mixture of amusing and endearing. scott can't help a slight smile while george fusses, slamming the container down in front of him like an ultimatum, and-

wait hold up. it's hard to tell with the various scents of george's cooking - which are, admittedly, much nicer than those of the mystery meet sandwiches - but there's a brief trace of something else when george gets close. taking a vaguely obvious sniff is completely passable in a kitchen, right. he's just smelling the food. to his credit, scott doesn't actually lean in or anything; just looks momentarily confused and inhales deliberately, once.

which could still be construed as weird, so he covers by picking up the jar to inspect it. the smile returns easily, though it's slightly incredulous. ]

... thanks. What is it? Did you make it?

BACKDATED TO BEFORE THE JUMP i do what i want.

[altercate]

[ the point of everything these days is to try to keep himself together. he has isaac, has remus, has a fragmented little mess of a pack to look after and derek can't just sit himself in the gardens and stew. the point is to be alright, or to do a passable impression of alright. derek's good at that, even if he still feels scraped raw, all sharp edges the way he was when he first showed up in beacon hills and buried laura himself.

if he's kept to himself, there's probably not much difference. derek's hasn't been a particularly social creature in a long time. but from time to time he bumps into people. people in this case meaning scott mccall, surrounded by piles of food. derek looks at him for a long moment, the kind of look that just means derek's trying to decide which smart ass remark he's going to say first. ]

Do you ever stop eating?

[ okay it was only the one other time derek accosted him while making sandwiches, but still. ]

WOW GOSH lucky for you he eats a lot of sandwiches

[workout]

[ yeah but it was a good time, that time. derek should've taken the sandwich, it would've been an anniversary worthy occasion. scott's too distracted by the canned meat to notice derek's entrance (when does he ever notice derek's entrances, really), but he manages to hide any surprise.

if he is surprised, it's mostly for the fact that this is derek, out and about. doing people things. unless he's just here to give scott a lecture, which is fairly likely. his eyebrows raise in idle consideration, and there's no barb in his casual rejoinder. ]

When I'm not in a kitchen?

[ it's your fault for coming here, jeez. what were you expecting to find, people breakdancing. ]

he's a growing werewoof melissa

[altercate]

[ who even cans meat. this is worse than bagged milk or canned bread, that just ain't right. ]

Finish it. I need to talk to you.

[ it's not really about multitasking, it's more about derek being vaguely suspicious of common areas on the ship and not wanting to converse in them. or spend any more time in them than he had to. ]

[workout]

[ that sounds about right. annoyance is a very tempting response, because he was kind of in the middle of this, but it's not like derek wants to talk to him every five minutes. instead of rushing to eat (seriously, do you want him to speed eat these masterpieces), he puts down the can and gives derek a patient look. ]

They can wait.

[ he's 90% sure nobody else is going to eat these things, and the 'not here' message is loud and clear. lead the way, batman. ]

[in_the_blood]

[Cassie walks into the kitchens slowly and kind of nervous. For a moment she stops at the door, scanning the inhabitants, trying to decide which one is the most likely candidate for being Scott and/or Stiles. What does she know about them, really? That they're 17, American and male. And that's only supposedly. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...]

HAHA poor cassie

[workout]

[ yeah so about that meeting someone you've only ever texted thing - neither of them really thought it through. still, scott's less anxious about it; he gets to the kitchens and waits patiently, ends up digging around in the fridge as the minutes pass.

that's what he's doing when he hears someone else come in and glances around the fridge door, pausing when he notes it's finally someone who doesn't look like they're over thirty.

there were one or two old serial-killer looking types, okay, he was getting a bit suspicious. ]

... Cassie?

[in_the_blood]

[Cassie's whole body practically breathes a sigh of relief when Scott approaches her, seeing someone actually her age and looking relatively normal. Thank god. She smiles.]

... Hey. Yeah, it's me. You're Stiles...? Or Scott.

[workout]

[ relatively normal, ha ha. he flashes a broad grin at the confirmation, and it just gets bigger when she mistakes him for stiles. ]

Scott.

[ for a second it looks like he's not entirely sure whether he should, because formal greetings are... well, formal, but he offers her a hand. then, very casually and matter-of-factly: ]

You're really cute.

[ whoa wait abort mission. he's still smiling, though now it's decidedly chagrined. ] I just mean - you're definitely not a 50 year-old serial killer.

[inspirited]

[lately chuck has been finding that she is going to the kitchens more frequently and not just spending time when ned is there baking pies as he usually does but to similarly do some baking of her own since people seemed like her cup pies. she walks into the kitchen with fresh jar of honey in her hand and before she sets it on the counter she notices someone else is already there making sandwiches] Wow, that's looks like quite a lot— you must be pretty hungry.

lmao sorry chuck

[workout]

[ he was totally hungry, actually, but the vague scent of death that seems suddenly very present has kind of thrown a wrench in that. scott's brow furrows in confusion, and it's enough to distract him from responding immediately. there's a quick glance around the kitchen as if he'll find a corpse just hanging out (ha ha), but no dice, obviously.

he turns his attention quickly to chuck after that, offering a smile. ]

I guess I am. [ which is part of it, but: ] Have you tried all this stuff? I'm not even sure what half of it is.

oh no. it's more like she would be sorry if she knew.

[inspirited]

[chuck was completely oblivious to scott's reaction to her smell even if in the back of her mind it was something she was aware could with the types of people on the ship. regardless she just smiles back, glancing between the freeze-dried and canned food it looked like he was trying to decide between] I'm not sure either, actually. I would think it would be edible though.

aww so polite :')

[workout]

[ wow that is intensely distracting. there's a weird moment where he thinks it's her, because - well, it kind of came in with her, but that seems like an incredibly rude assumption.

he looks slightly disgruntled despite his best efforts at maintaining a polite, easy-going smile. ]

I hope so. It doesn't all taste bad, but I have no idea how anyone cooks with it.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She comes in to make herself her own sandwich - she really needs to eat, she keeps telling herself - and she sees him. Her eyebrows go up almost right away. Sometimes there's a race to the kitchens after the jump, so people can hoard the best stuff, but he just has canned meat.

She takes a moment to inspect him, this teenage boy, then sets her slate down between them and picks up another can, and looks pensive, too.]

HAHA cuties

[workout]

[ scott notices when she comes in, but he's assuming she'll stick to herself; a lot of people do. instead she joins him at the counter and takes to inspecting another can, and after a second scott offers her a sidelong look.

there's a curious glance to the slate, then he offers her a grin. ]

I think it's chicken?

[ that's the most unsure statement. ]

[majestyofthethrone]

[She looks at the can, considers it, and shakes her head. Because no. This can't be chicken, can it?]

Chicken of the sky?

[See, instead of chicken of the sea. It's funny!]

[workout]

[ so that explains the slate. his attention's more on her than the can at this point, and he sounds amused. ]

... you wanna try some?

[ two young people with awful looking food, the 'dare you to eat it' is inevitable here. although that usually works better with two stupid boys - still, worth a try.. ]

[jacked]

[Zeke has made it something of a mission to check out as many of the kitchens as possible, just in case each has some different variation on the food available. It's a time killer that usually results in him eating something, so he's holding no shame. He's been making his own meals for years, but back home he was more interested using his time on other experiments than culinary ones, meaning his version of a balanced meal was throwing some inhuman combination of snack food in between two slices of bread and eating it in twenty seconds flat. Or calling out for pizza.

So all in all, he's adapted fairly well to the supplies stocked in the Tranquility's food closets.

He's just curious, wondering if there's some special space flavour lurking undiscovered somewhere, or a frozen pizza tucked in one of the fridges on floor 042. Who knows. Today, he happens to hit this kitchen at the same time as Scott's making sandwiches, and totally ignores him in order to rifle through the cupboards for a while. He's not quiet about it. Or tidy. When he's found something he deems interesting - a box of thin square crisps that taste kind of like really old prawn crackers - he settles up on the counter opposite Scott, watching the whole sandwich building proceedings like Scott was the over-lunch entertainment he'd had lined up all along.]

[workout]

[ scott glances up when zeke comes in, but when he keeps to himself, he settles into the easy routine of two dudes ignoring each other. except zeke isn't so much ignoring him as watching him, and after a few minutes of patient silence with no change, he glances over his shoulder at zeke. ]

... want one?

[ because clearly that's the polite thing to do. offer to share your freakish science experiment sandwiches. he doesn't sound remotely annoyed by the spectating, and his tone's laid-back and friendly. ]

[jacked]

[Zeke could easily just say no, gesture with his box of weird space crackers and carry on eating, cause he didn't exactly come here looking for someone else's sandwiches. But the prospect of having food made for him isn't exactly unwelcome, the only real reservations being 1) doesn't know the dude 2) doesn't know what's in the food.

And that the offer itself is way too altruistic to be genuine.]

You're making all those for other people?

[The judgement that's going to come from the answer is clear in his tone.]