( closed )

[wroughtsteel]

CHARACTERS: Éowyn and Hyperion
LOCATION: The kitchens
WARNINGS: Possibly some puking. And swearing.
SUMMARY: Hyperion taught Éowyn how to use the washing machines, so she made him stew as promised. Spoilers: this doesn't end well.
NOTES: None


[ Promises to be kept, once finally they have the time for it, Hyperion does teach her how to use the machines to wash her clothes. In return, she arranges for a day to cook him a stew, as she said she would all that while ago.

So now, with access to ingredients she otherwise would not, she has prepared a wonderful mix of beef pieces, along with potatoes and chopped carrots, as well as some slices of onion. All cooking together inside a large pot, she opens the lid every once in a while to stir. And, unsuspectingly enough, it all smells rather good. ]

Comments

[nightblogs]

[He pops on over cheerfully, wearing one of those trusty sweaters Wheatley left behind for him to find, fresh off smoking a cigarette. The normal kind, too.]

Sup? Didn't keep ya waiting, did I?

[wroughtsteel]

[ She turns around at the voice, smiling and tilting her head in greeting as she gestures for him to take a seat at the table if he wants. ]

Not at all! I am just now finishing. How are you, Hyperion?

[nightblogs]

[He peeks over, takes the scent of the food to see how he likes it. The smile should mean something good.]

Thanks. I'm pretty cool, you?

[wroughtsteel]

[ It's as inconspicuous as can be. Which in the end might just end a little worse for Hyperion. ]

You are cold? [ She looks him over with some concern. ] We ought to find you some garments, then. A cloak, perhaps?

[nightblogs]

What? [he doesn't get it, at first, where this concern is coming from, but eventually it clicks and he laughs a bit.] Oh, no, no, I mean, like - I'm good. Being cool is being well!

[wroughtsteel]

Oh! [ She smiles a little, amused at the strange usage of the word. ] Apologies, then. I suppose it is correct to say that I am... cool as well.

[ With that, she turns to the cupboards, retrieving a bowl from one of them. ] Make yourself comfortable now, I will serve you some of the stew.

[nightblogs]

[He grins. It's funny to hear someone who sounds so fancy use that term. He settles himself, arms crossed on the table. Can't wait to have some awesome food, oh man.]

Thanks, Winny. Can I call you that? Winny.

[wroughtsteel]

Winny? Why so, does it mean something where you are from?

[ She doesn't seem to mind overmuch, however. With a bowl filled with with the stew, she approaches the table slowly and sets it down in front of him, along with a spoon. ]

[nightblogs]

Nah, it just sounds cute. Winny.

[he'd say 'cute like you', but then it'd feel awkward for him.]

Thanks.

[rubbing his hands together, picking up the spoon.] Aren't you gonna have some too?

[wroughtsteel]

I see. Very well then-- you may call me that if you would like. I do not mind.

[ That would be awkward for everyone involved, really. ]

Oh, yes. But you needn't wait for me, go ahead and start. [ She smiles at him before turning back to the stove, to help herself to some of the stew as well. ]

[nightblogs]

[He's biting his lower lip. Having someone cook for him is just about the best thing ever.

He's going to dig in, now.]

You cook this a lot back where you're from?

[wroughtsteel]

[ Enjoy. Or, well... at least until he realizes the foul taste it has. ]

Not often, truthfully. I am not needed in helping with that, and I myself am more of a warrior than a cook.

[ Now she comes back to the table with a bowl and a spoon of her own, taking a seat across from him. ]

[nightblogs]

[He waits until she's seated to finally bring that spoon to his mouth. Slurrrrp.

...]

Wow.

[Almost chokes. But doesn't. Forces himself to swallow.]

... Wow.

[wroughtsteel]

[ That counts as a good reaction, or so she thinks. So she brightens with a small smile, waiting expectantly. ]

So? How is it?

[nightblogs]

[facecreaks into a smile.]

It's... greaaaaat.

[OH MY GOD ARE YOUTRYING TO POISON ME]

[wroughtsteel]

[ Oh how splendid! She smiles ever so brightly. ]

Really? I am glad to hear!

[ For now she stirs her own serving, waiting for it to cool a little before she starts eating as well. ]

[nightblogs]

[oh my god, this is awful. How is he going to get rid of this. He never thought people who cooked could cook horrible food.]

So you... do this a lot?

[wroughtsteel]

Not too often, to be truthful. Only one time or another, trying to help as I could.

[ Or as she thought she could, anyway.

Worry not, Hyperion, she will be the one to put an end to your suffering when she finally tastes her own food and a few seconds in, the taste settles in. ]

Oh... this is-- [ A wince, and she sets the spoon back down, covering her mouth. ] This is most foul! Why did you not say something?! It cannot taste good to you!

[nightblogs]

--what? Oh, no, no! [oh no he has to be a gentleman now totally] It's great, I swear! Must be your bowl that's like, I dunno, cursed or something.