extra sugar, extra salts [open]

[yardbird]

CHARACTERS: Murphy Pendleton and You!
LOCATION: Kitchens.
SUMMARY: In Which February Becomes the Month Murphy Feeds Post-Apocalyptic Kids Food. Or anyone else who is hopeless in cooking, really.
NOTES: Feel free to assume this takes place whenever during the month!

---

The scent of herbs and spices waft from the corridors, leading into the kitchen. Murphy himself is surprised with the quality of the foods he finds here, allowing a variety of dishes he frequently indulges in when he's feeling up to it. It's not like the cooks of Ryall State Prison had a long and illustrious menu for the inmates there, and if it's one thing about his freedom that Murphy swore never to take for granted again, it's the chance to cook his own damn food.

Hell, even during his brief freedom in his own world, he hadn't been able to settle in long enough to find a decent kitchen or ingredients. Not like this place. That old life seems so long gone now, he can hardly remember what it was even like anymore. Every now and then, the ship reminds him.

So he loses himself, keeping his hands busy. Sometimes, that means cooking larger meals for more people other than himself or his wife, or whoever is left in his small circle of friends here.

Whether it's stir fry, sauté vegetables, gumbo, or even simple pancakes for breakfast... Chances are, anyone with a hungry belly wandering the halls would notice, and hardly be able to ignore.

Comments

[sleepallthewayhome]

"It was on a planet in space. Everyone came from Earth to go there. I was born there though."

[yardbird]

Suppose if given the opportunity, Murphy wouldn't mind leaving Earth, either.

Which is... what he's doing right now.

"So, you were kinda... actually born into all of this..." He trails, waving his hand around at the room, but trying to indicate something broader. Like the whole ship.

[sleepallthewayhome]

"No I was born in Hadley's Hope." Close but you're still talking to a seven year old.

[yardbird]

"I see."

She's just a kid -- can't be much older than his own boy. But there's definitely something about her. Murphy can't quite place his finger on it right now.

"What was it like, livin' in that place?"

[sleepallthewayhome]

"It was fun. We played in the vents all the time."

Her smile. It's there for a moment then falls...

"Then the monsters came.....and everyone but me died."

[yardbird]

That's it. That's what he was sensing. Not that she was just a kid, but she has that look of I've seen shit you wouldn't believe.

He knows that look pretty well -- on adults.

Murphy had been stirring the sauce while the noodles softened when he heard her say it. And then he stopped.

"I'm... sorry. I guess I shouldn't have asked..."

[sleepallthewayhome]

It's not a topic she likes but she doesn't want to just pretend that it didn't happen either. So she just settles for a shrug as she looks at her hands.

"You didn't know."

[yardbird]

Murphy also knows that look too well, the one she has right now. He frowns, wanting to be able to tell her that she's safe here. That she doesn't need to worry about the same thing happening to her here.

But he's not one for lying. Even to kids. Because that won't help them, or keep them safe.

"Food's almost done," he says, deciding to change the subject. "I'll get us some plates."

[sleepallthewayhome]

A distraction is good. And she's hungry.

"Can I help?"

[yardbird]

"Er, yeah. Sure..."

He sets a couple of plates, glasses, and forks over the counter. Stacking them, he nods to the dining area.

"Think you could take these to the table?" It's not very often that Murphy gets to eat with people, other than breakfast or dinner with his wife when neither of them are busy.

[sleepallthewayhome]

She nods and starts to move them over to the table.

[yardbird]

While she does that, he works on the final touches of the spaghetti, taking a large bowl and mixing the noodles with the sauce. Once the table is set, he takes the bowl over as well and places it on the edge.

"Want anything to drink?" He's pretty sure he can dig something up that isn't alcohol.

[sleepallthewayhome]

"Is there any juice?" She finishes setting the stuff on the table and stands by it, looking over.

[yardbird]

"Er, yeah. Of course." He's pretty sure he might've freshly squeezed some recently. He ventures over to the refrigerator to check if he has pitchers of anything inside. "Got apple and orange."

Pick your poison, Newt.

Not that it's... actually poisoned. Shh.

[sleepallthewayhome]

"Can I have apple.....please?"

Manners are something she has to remember now she isn't alone.

[yardbird]

He smiles slightly at the please part. Having grown up in an orphanage around stern nuns, he can appreciate the manners a little bit.

"Sure thing."

There are a couple of carafes in the refrigerator of fresh juice. He takes one and sets it on the dining table, where everything else is, and pours some into the glass closest to her.

Afterwards, he blinks, pulling the carafe close to him. "Oh, by the way... I'm Murphy. Don't think I caught your name, kid."

Now that we're on the subject of manners and shit... Jesus.

[sleepallthewayhome]

She takes a drink of the juice. Fresh things are strange but she's starting to like them.

"My name's Newt."