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

[yardbird]

Good kid. Murphy's not even offended, all things considered. Better to be cautious than to take candies from strangers without thinking.

"All right." He takes a plate from one of the upper cupboards. After stacking a few pancakes on with a fork, he takes a few layers and chews. Some are blueberry, some are bananas, with a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla in the batter. It's an interesting combination of flavors.

Murphy scoffs.

"Jesus. These turned out better than I'd expected."

[nokidstuff]

Yes, Carl was raised better than that. Except his parents couldn't have exactly prepared him what to do with strangers in space, let alone in an apocalypse. That is to say, he's still working out this whole situation to the best of his abilities.

So when the man in front of him actually takes a plate to stake the pancakes and shove in a mouthful, as promised, he is a little taken aback. Of course, it's an unexpected (if not a little unsightly of a) scene, but it certainly proves to him that they are safe to eat.

Maybe. He still has to decide if he wants to take any anyhow. The comment about how they taste certainly earns points in favor of taking some. Not to think ill of the dead, but his mother was never good at making them. They remind him of her in a good light, though.

So after watching everything, "Okay. Maybe they are safe... but what kinds are they?" Because it's important to know with making his decision, and he's not sure what else to ask in this case either.

[yardbird]

"The first batch are bananas," Murphy says, pointing to the stack with the fork he used to eat with. "The second are blueberries, after I'd run out of the bananas. Everything else I had to make from scratch, usin' whatever was available here..."

Which was actually more than what he was expecting when he first started making space pancakes. By now he's like a pro in all things breakfast-y, even if the milk had to be substituted for powdered shit since they lost their only cow on the ship.

[nokidstuff]

Bananas and blueberries are good, and actually the blueberry kind sound especially good, but he has to ask:

"You didn't make any of the regular kind?"

Well, actually, it kind of more slips out, but that's beside the point. It's just that regular old pancakes is what he remembers and if possible the memory is what he'd like to be as close as possible to. So, yeah, he had to ask.

Besides it's strange when someone doesn't make the regular kind after making so many, right? Just his opinion.

[yardbird]

"Er. Not this time, no. Though I probably could, with as much batter as I've got left..." He trails off. "Would you like some regular ones instead?"

Murphy kind of forgets that regular food is even a thing sometimes. When he gets in that zone, he just wings it, adding things in. Which means whatever is on hand and sounds like a good idea, he throws in.

[nokidstuff]

"No... I-"

Was just saying. But, well - actually, let him think about it a moment... Okay, not really think about it, because he is interested in seeing how to make them. But he also realizes than he can use this as an opportunity to doubly make sure there's less likeliness of funny business. So, if it seems like he's not being as cautious as he was moments ago, give him a break. Curiosity comes now, and a real decision to accept pancakes or not will follow later.

He quickly changes what he's saying to; "Yeah... guess I do, if I get to watch you make 'em."

[yardbird]

Murphy snorts. "Sure thing."

Around here, he doesn't really think to ask why anyone would want to watch him make pancakes. After all, Murphy's heard weirder things. So he just does, turning the heat under the frying pan down a little so he can start on the next batch using the ladle from the bowl of batter he was using earlier.

"You ever actually made pancakes before, kid?" Just making casual conversation while he's also making it fairly obvious that there's no funny business going on with the making of these beautiful, beautiful pancakes.