trust_us_with_your | IC Inbox for route666rp

It's no surprise that Alastor has been quite content to set up in the kitchens of the fortress - unlike the convoy kitchens, there is a fair amount of space by comparison and the room is almost uncomfortably warm. Which, to Alastor, means he can finally work without shivering and being wet.

At the moment, he's cutting through some gyuki meat - rather beef-like, but the spider-y carapace made butchering interesting... it'll add a nice balance of flavor to the liver without over-shining, he thinks.

And so long as he focuses on the meal, he won't have to consider anything more frustrating.

It's weird to suddenly have some kind of building again after sticking to the cars of the Convoy. Four walls, even in a state of disrepair, seemed to bring an odd sense of ease to the Drifters... so long as they don't touch any of the weird walls when they spring up and don't read any phantom text on the walls.

Easy enough rules to follow.

Vox moved at a clip, warm enough that he left his coat behind. From one claw dangled a cloth-wrapped parcel, his very PROOF that he'd been busy and eats vegetables. Really, who did that guy think he is?? Did he never stress eat?

He all but stormed into the kitchen, expression properly smug upon the screen, a thread of electricity wavering slowly between the diodes.

Time to prove him wrong. Easy!

"Your VEGETABLES have arrived... you're welcome!"

Naturally, Alastor's head rotated on a swivel to look at Vox - everything bundled up, hah! He was so serious. Hilarious.

"Alright, then - come on, come on, let's see what we're working with! I've found something close enough to a cutting board, might as well get chopping, hahah!"

Long strides closed the gap to an available bit of counter space, where he unwrapped the parcel and started laying things out: The charmingly round rows of leaves of bittercress; thin white roots already washed, aromatic wild carrot and onion bearing their stalks and bristly leaves; the tear drop-shaped greenery of chickweed, and the round greenery of garlic mustard greens.

"I think you forgot that I can get quick access to consoles and get what research I need! And, with the sharp nose of this little kitsune blessing of mine, it wasn't a problem finding these little gems hiding away under all the snow and dirt."

Bask in it. Soak it in. He crossed his arms behind his head rather proudly.

"I have more, but I went with what should work for the main course. You feel like eating your words now, or save 'em for dessert...?"

Alastor didn't even bother reacting to the boast - he'd thrown out the challenge just to see these ingredients actually show up, after all. Rather than answering the other man, he lifted the chickweed to take a thoughtful sniff of it, doing the same with the mustard greens. After a few hums of approval...

"I can work with this... garlicky sautéed greens, thinly slice the liver, make a bit of a pan sauce... hmm, this will do nicely," he hummed contently. He wouldn't get most of the dish, but at least he'd get to indulge in a bit of fun making something that Vox would have to begrudgingly enjoy. Heh.

"Very well! Wash and chop them, I'll render the fat to sauté - there's some water there in that pot from melted snow you can use," he gestured for Vox to act, placing the knife he'd left behind at the Malzeno on the counter. It'd been cleaned and sharpened.

Slowly, pixelated sweat drops formed on his screen. You gonna... you gonna eat those words-- okay, good. He picked the right ones then.

...OF COURSE HE DID!

His screen refreshed and he lowered his arms. He paused when he looked down and recognized the knife.

His stomach clenched and he quieted further. But after a small and neutral glance to the side, he shifted to get going on washing the foraged veggies. It's fine. He could handle this much.

Vox couldn't cook, but he was at least competent with his knifework. Tender plant matter was simpler than flesh, after all...

The elemental magic - and the lava - flowing through the kitchen made things a lot easier than having to tend a fire. But Alastor had learned a few times already to have water on hand, just in case - the place liked to catch things alight on those who weren't careful.

Still, he hummed a bit as he unwrapped some of the carved blubber he'd saved from a kill, grabbing a hold of the end of one of his tails to wipe it down with a rag soaked in boiled water before using it like a knife to cut a portion of the fat and plop it into the pan.

Really, he just thought it was funny to use his own tails for something like this when he really could've easily used one of the other knives he had or even something from scrounging the kitchen.

Ever since getting his first good look at the lava floes, he understood those strange people who wanted to know if molten rock was squishy. Even with his regeneration, he didn't ever wish to test that theory. He tried not to be distracted with them while cutting, but it meant his mind couldn't hook on things he wasn't entirely ready to think more on yet.

But... why hasn't he mentioned any of... what happened since? What he saw? They were practically golden bullets, blank checks to- what- call him a creep? Worse...?

Maybe keeping silent about it was its own form of torture, because it was effective in making a cold sweat creep up his neck. He rolled his shoulders to try and shake the feeling, and decided to inspect the knife further.

He whistled quietly, impressed. This was the keenest it's ever been, actually. But he supposed he should leave it to a serial killer who favored knives to know how to get one that could practically cut shadow.

The whistle prompted an amused chuckle from Alastor - come now, surely you know how to tend to a knife, Vox? - but otherwise no comment. While there was that elephant in the room, Alastor treated it as he did any of his weaknesses - flat out ignoring it. After all, once he cut this meat into tiny bits and fried it in the fat, it'd be close enough to having ham cubes in greens - surely enough to get a sloppy eater like Vox to finish the plate.

Not to THIS degree! Vox even ran a finger along the edge and allowed himself to bleed, fascinated with just how neatly it split the skin without fuss. He would mend in a minute or two, but he still stuck the finger in his mouth while he worked one-handed to clear and stow away the knife.

He then set up the chopped ingredients and side-stepped them into Alastor's 'station'. After, he turned and hopped up to sit on the counter, observing curiously.

He wasn't a sloppy eater... it was just hard, having a two-dimensional face sometimes.

A bit more char on the meaty bits... then Alastor scooped the garlic and onions into the pan, giving them a chance to cook. The smell almost immediately started to fill the kitchen, making it feel warm and homey... even Alastor seemed to relax, his tails swaying in a light wag. He had an easier time than nearly anyone when it came to eating raw or fetid meats, but no one could deny the pleasure of a properly cooked meal.

Once the pan was ready, he added the remainder of the veggies - they didn't need more than a simple cooking down, lest they lose their color and texture. "Did you bring a liver, pal?"

He was perhaps setting a record on how long he can keep his mouth shut, save for the mild slack in his mouth as he watched. Alastor made it look so fucking easy, but if he were ever to take a shot at it, there'd be nothing but crispy critters. Maybe it was his own impatience, or not really knowing his way around temperatures on a stove and setting things way too damn high.

The radio demon spoke, and for a moment, there's no response.

"...Huh?"

Then it clicks, and the media demon startles, mouth snapping shut as he quickly turned and passed the rest of the parcel over, heart rattling against his ribs. Inside was a sizely slab of ruby offal, definitely harvested not long before his arrival.

"Fresh, I see! You really wanted the best shot at enjoying a proper meal, didn't you?" Alastor chuckled, teasing - he took the liver and gave it a smell too, only setting it down so he could gather a plate and transfer the greens onto it. Once there, he set the pan down and took the sharpened knife - slicing through the liver with ease until it was in long strips. And from there, it went into the pan that still had the fats and aromatics from the greens - a pinch of salt, and he started to brown the precious organ.

Don't mind if he just eats raw the pieces that didn't fit in the pan.

"Chef's fee."

Huh, so it really did just cook like everything else. He supposed after the wars ended, there wasn't much use in the offal when you could just stick to increasingly-abundant muscle meats. He himself enjoyed a good chicken sandwich.

The chef's fee earned the twitch of a corner of his lips and an amused chuckle, but he quickly stopped himself and turned his head away. He occupied himself with adjusting where his rolled-up sleeves sat at his elbows, but quietly filed away the steps. He could replicate those and see about making his own dinner... maybe. After a couple of tries for practice.

...

Wait, were they technically having dinner toge--

"I can tell you're actually paying attention because you haven't uttered a word after all your boasting," Alastor taunted, verbally poking the man. With a swirl and flip of the pan, he tossed the liver slices to brown the other side.

Yes, maybe he was showing off a bit. Oh, he just KNOWS that Vox is going to end up throwing his food across the stove every time he tries to do a pan flip. That'll be HILARIOUS.

Shit.

Vox scoffed and made a show of rolling his eyes. "I'm a visual learner, you know that. If we're gonna be on this stupid road trip, I gotta keep picking up a few life skills, right?"

Al flipped the contents of the pan and his eyebrows lifted. He'd seen that trick in various cooking shows. It was about the wrist, right? You bet he tried it in his own spare time, but wound up needing to clean the stove after.

"Of course you can do the flippy thing," he drawled. "Do you Salt Bae, too?"

Does he what? Alastor gave Vox an incredulous look, before looking back down at the pan and giving a few more flips and tosses.

"That 'old bay' stuff everyone on the east shore hypes up is celery salt and paprika - hardly that special," he scoffed.

He could demonstrate the technique, but then Alastor went and committed a touch of heinous slander.

"Aha... in my neck of the woods, those are fighting words, y'know. And it's eighteen different spices. Not just celery salt and paprika."

"Oohhh, I'm sorry, maybe a little mustard powder too~" Alastor teased, affecting the most bratty voice possible to taunt him.

An eyelid twitched a bit, but he pressed on, grin tightening.

"Aw. Sweetheart. You're gonna feel like such an asshole once you try some crab cakes from MY neck of the woods."

"Hah! You've never had a nawlins' blackened crab cake," Alastor scoffed, taking a slice of the liver from the pan and eating it. Hmmm... yes, that'll do. Shame there wasn't any milk or flour at the moment to make a pan sauce, he should've nicked some of the flour from the convoy kitchen.

"There you are. I'll finish what you don't eat," he chuckled, plating the liver next to the greens and passing it to Vox. Honestly, he didn't expect a bite more - he better see Vox licking that plate clean.

He slouched in his seat, elbow on one knee, the other far apart. Guy just likes to spread, what can anyone say...? But he smirked. "I haven't. We find ourselves a fish market in this Nirvana place or a body of water with crab in it, and I'll literally make you eat your words. Ha!"

He took the offered plate and gave it a scrutinizing glance. Gotta make a show of it, of course, before he took his first bite.

...

"Huh." Nope. Hold on. One second.

"Not bad." Better. But he's already trying to load the fork with as much of the next bite as possible. Y'know. To get it over with.

ROLLING HIS EYES... oh, Alastor knows he did a good job. He didn't comment, just smugly leaned on the counter as he watched Vox eat.

By bite three, he paused and he lifted his gaze to meet Alastor's. Something twisted in his stomach, squirmed uncomfortably.

Keep suckin' down food like that, Vee, and I'm gonna need to start lettin' out your seams, he heard Velvette chime in his head, clear as day.

He canted his head with a smirk, set the fork down and handed the plate over.

"Chef's fee. ...Or are you expecting me to feed you fork by fork...? You freak."

"Please. Don't mistake me for your gaudy moth companion," Alastor rebuffed, using his claws to pinch a bite of the greens to enjoy. Mmm... savory and bitter...

IC Inbox for route666rp

Action - the Fortress Kitchen

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