From the moment the meat hits the flame

[fragileandsoft]

Who: All those not gone to hell.
When: Evening Day 67 - Day 68
Where: The cookhouse
What: Stress cooking, stress eating, general stress.
Note: General mingle thread!

Many have been taken, many have gone after, and those who remain have little else to do but wait for the results on the other end. For once, the carnival is very, very quiet.

Though the rides are shut down, the games are still, the attractions unattended, there's still one central place for people to gather. All the kitchen staff has gone, but the lights in the cookhouse remain on, and the smell of food still wafts through the air. Anyone not content to wait alone would do well to look here for company and comfort.

Comments

[fragileandsoft]

A voice crackles over the radio public channel:

"Ah, hey, to anyone who's... here. Uhh, I'm gonna be over at the cookhouse, if anyone's not feeling like cooking for themselves. I'm not up to Koel's level, sure, but I know my way around a grill. Maybe I'll see you there."

He's already set up over in the kitchens before sending out the message, and is scrambling around the space trying to find the supplies. Greg's never been in a kitchen this large or well-stocked. Meat's in this fridge, shoot where's the bread, oh vegetables are over here... well, he's probably not gonna use those, but good to know... is this oven on? He meant to do the grill. Is convection a problem here?

Soon enough he's got his act together well enough that the smell of cooking meat begins filling the space. More meat than needed to feed one person; who knows when everyone's coming back, but he's sure they'll come back hungry.

[thevictoriandetective]

The smell of cooking meat attracts a resident carnivore.

Sherlock's supposed to stay in bed, he feels like he should stay in bed, but his restless mind wouldn't allow him to truly relax. They'd gone without him, he'd been asleep when everyone had left, which was a good thing for his health, not a good thing for his guilt. He hadn't been able to save anyone the first time, and now he definitely couldn't save anyone this time.

Despite the pain, dizziness, and pounding headache, he followed the delicious scent, forked tongue flicking out rapidly as he wandered into the kitchen. It was the right temperature and humidity for a snake-man, at least. He was well-equipped for the scarfing of a lot of food, too, for he sported a snake jaw and snout, probably courtesy of the mask he'd worn at the masquerade.

His housecoat hung loosely down one shoulder, his button-up shirt rumpled, as he held onto a counter for stability.

He was totally fine, he could have easily gone in that fight, right?

Nope, time to sit down. He fumbled for a seat.

"Don't mind me," he said to the current cook, who wasn't the old cook, at least to his knowledge. Right now he was lucky he could remember his own name.

[fragileandsoft]

Knowing all too well how bad the vampire attack had left some people, it's only to be expected that a lot of folks look sickly. Heck, Greg's only on his feet since he was found so fast after the attack. This guy looks, well... a little past that, though.

Greg eyes him in concern. Well, full stomach can cure a lot of ails, probably. He's not this guy's dad. Or a nurse, for that matter.

"Ah, sure. You sit right there. I'll get you some water."

He backs away a couple steps before turning his back--not out of any mistrust of Sherlock, but to make extra certain his hair doesn't end up anywhere near a flame. This new plant stuff growing out of his hair is unruly, and doesn't react well to getting tied back.

"What're you hungry for? I got links and burgers on the grill."

[thevictoriandetective]

Sherlock, on a normal day, would be easily deducing and observing without even trying. Right now, though, his observations were coming in fits and starts, like an old broken lawn mower that wouldn't run right. And the problem wasn't even his observations, they were being made. it was his conscious self that couldn't understand or notice them. He did manage to note the plant thingies though.

"Water? Erm, thanks." Better than drinking out of an old vase that used to hold flowers. Because that happened once before when he was quality off his rocker. And quite likely to happen again in this state.

A forked tongue flicked out. His stomach growled.

"Both of those sound excellent, if you don't mind."

Sherlock actually wasn't necessarily someone who sought out food when he was upset, he rarely ate on a case, but he wasn't on a case right now, he has scarcely eaten all week except for Jimmy's roast beef he'd gotten when he wasn't in the end tent. He hated this, not being able to help, not being able to affect the outcome, just waiting was driving him mad.

[empty_vessel]

Not all the kitchen staff are gone, there's still one left. And Jimmy heads back to help Greg with the cooking. He feels terrible about not going, but he would have been even worse than useless had he gone. (He's already seen Hell once, thank you.)

"Hey. Still got one of the kitchen crew left. You want a hand?" Jimmy could take the day to chill, but making sides and chopping vegetables is a welcome distraction.

[fragileandsoft]

Antlers clatter against a pot rack as Greg jumps. It's one thing to use an empty kitchen, but now that actual staff is here he feels awfully presumptuous.

"Oh--jeez. Sorry Jim, I thought--"

He clears his throat into a hand. He then frowns down at the hand, and then goes to wash it in the sink. "I mean, if you're up for it, it'd be a help. I don't know the lay of the land too well."

[empty_vessel]

Jimmy smiles. "Sure. It's not a problem at all. This place works better with at least two. What were you wanting to make?" Jimmy heads over to the big walk-in fridge and comes out with a small block of cheddar cheese and two jars of pickles. "The pantry over there has the onions and the potatoes if you want to make some fries." He nods towards a doorway with sets of shelves just visible inside.

"And hey, it's a good idea, seeing if people want to try and get their mind off it a little." Sobering thought, but there isn't much anybody can do.

[fourthscribe]

Tanyuu is more than happy to take advantage of a distraction like this, especially with everything going on. A second attack by the vampires is more than enough to rattle her, and with Ginko nearly drained...she doesn't want to think about what would have happened had Foster not shown up.

(Though what happened after he did is another matter entirely.)

Slithering into the kitchen, she smiles faintly to see Greg bustling about and cooking up a storm--whatever it is he's grilling, it smells delicious. "Any chance you could use another set of hands?"

[fragileandsoft]

Greg looks over his shoulder as he flips burgers, and shoots Tanyuu a grateful grin. "If you don't mind," he grunts, reaching to grab a pack of buns without leaving the meat to burn, "I may have bit off a little more than I could chew here."

He got a little bit overzealous with such a big kitchen to work with, throwing that much meat on the grill before figuring out where everything else is.

one day I will tag punctually jfc

[fourthscribe]

Another soft chuckle escapes her, and Tanyuu moves around to hand the pack of bread to Greg. "I had a feeling. What can I do while you cook the meat? Cutting vegetables, mixing?"

[mylastchance]

Lauren doesn't even know if he can eat anymore. The smell of cooked meat isn't enticing in the slightest. Still, he doesn't have anything else to do. He doesn't want to be around too many people, but he doesn't want to be by himself either. It's night time thankfully, so he doesn't have to worry about being burnt by the sun. The fact that he has to take the sun into consideration at all is irritating as hell.

"Hey. Need any help?"

[fragileandsoft]

"If you're offering, it's welcome." Greg offers a thin and tired smile; not entirely cheerful, but better than he could have managed before setting up in here. It's not the most productive thing he could be doing, but it feels like he's contributing something.

With the strain of circumstances, Greg fails to pick up on anything going on with Lauren besides the pervasive dour mood. "You know your way around a knife, right?"

[mylastchance]

Lauren's always in a dour mood, so it's hardly anything worth thinking on. His on smile matches Greg's as far as tiredness goes.

"I can cut vegetables, if that's what you're asking."

[musicinmotion]

Yuuri had debated with himself for a solid half an hour before finally forcing himself to leave his trailer where he'd holed himself up and head for the cookhouse. He felt useless, if he was going to be completely honest, and he was so worried about Viktor--but what good was he going to be on the rescue mission?

Stepping into the cookhouse, absently rubbing at his arms as if he were cold, his gaze swept around the room before he caught sight of Greg briefly. It helped him relax some and he slowly wandered back towards the kitchens themselves, offering a tired and halfhearted smile to the man.

"Need any help?"

[fragileandsoft]

Greg looks up from the recipe book he found while rummaging around. There's a number of cooked patties ready and waiting for any hungry visitors, but it eventually occurred to him something with a better shelf life was called for.

"If you're offering, it's welcome."

Somehow, it's a little surprising to see someone largely unfamiliar showing up with that offer. They've maybe crossed paths once or twice, but he can't place where.

[wild_magic]

Susan may know how to cook, but he doesn't head to the kitchen to help. Lauren seems to be feeling better than he was at first, but that doesn't really mean that Susan is feeling completely up to just talking to his brother... But if some of the other people who stayed behind are going to be at the cookhouse, then that would be a good place to go to hang out and not be alone with his thoughts. Talking to people is better than dwelling on things and thinking too hard about everything that's gone wrong. Especially if he can be away from the reminders of what's happened - Lauren's teeth, the way Lauren looked at the dark bruising circling Susan's neck where the vampire woman had tried to choke him, both of their animals still avoiding his brother...

He peers into the kitchen quietly, coming in as he sees Greg cooking. He's not sure exactly what he's making, but it certainly smells good...

"What are you cooking?"

[fragileandsoft]

"Coupla things. Trying to cover bases." Greg sniffs suspiciously at the pot he's got boiling before looking back to Susan. He waves to invite the boy in closer.

"Making some stew for when people come back. Not sure how long it'll take, but they're sure to be hungry." He gives his best effort to make it sound idle and matter-of-fact. Everyone WILL be back before long, and they'll all be fine and ready to eat something. Like any other day! "But if you're looking for something to chow on now, I still have a few burgers left."

[wild_magic]

He nods slowly as he thinks about that - it makes sense to him, too, and he doesn't even question it. As far as he's concerned, everyone will come back just like normal, and everything will be fine. (Except his brother isn't fine, but he shoves that thought aside again.)

He shakes his head at the offer, though, even as he comes in to peer into the pot.

"I'm not very hungry... I just thought you might want some company." By which of course he means that he wants some company, but he doesn't say that right now.

OTA

[mossbuds]

Lars is grateful plenty of other people had offered to help Greg with cooking, because while a part of him wanted to, most of him is shy and easily embarrassed. The idea of waiting around to get fed is more appealing anyway, even if it's ultimately less productive—which is truly the Lars way, so here he is.

He's sitting at a bar counter near the part of the kitchen where Greg is busy doing his thing, resting his chin on his hand as he watches him (and possibly others? perhaps they've come and gone by now) go. There's a little metal clasp on top of some gauze around his neck, though it's not longer injured. It's just nasty, and he hates looking at it.

Lars is always hungry, but hasn't been once since the attack. He's kind of eaten, once or twice, but has mostly been sleeping—even once he was well enough to walk around again. Now, however, while his appetite is still nowhere to be found, he can feel familiar cramping in his belly.

[mylastchance]

Lauren actually was helping, used to cooking for himself, though not necessarily used to all the equipment this kitchen happened to come with. It's when he steps away for a moment (turns out kitchens get kind of hot) that he sees Lars. His attention is immediately drawn to the bandage around the other boys neck, still the way he stares at it is kind of intense.

It's been a while since he's eaten anything. To be honest, he's been avoiding it. He's gotten better at tuning out the constant awareness of other people's blood and body heat, but coming from a hot kitchen to a space where the only thing generating heat is a person's circulation makes it stick out more. If he's using his natural vampiric allure, he isn't aware of it.

ISNT LAURENS LIFE HARD ENOUGH RIGHT NOW

[mossbuds]

It takes Lars a moment to notice Lauren, but a few seconds of someone's eyes maintaining prolonged and very intent contact on you will naturally draw your attention whether you see them doing it or not. You feel their stare.

So when he notices Lauren staring at him, Lars's elbow slips out from under him in surprise, along with the palm that's been holding up his head. He catches himself before he comes close to bashing his head on the table, thankfully, and his palms are now flat on the table, gazing back at Lauren with a weird sort of nervousness that Lars tends to only exude around people who intimidate him. It's a category Lauren doesn't normally fall into. Whether it's the intensity of the gaze, vampiric allure or something else, it's, uh... not yet clear.

"The fuck're you lookin' at, man?!" Lars blurts, his voice a shrill, nervous pipe.

naaaaaah

[mylastchance]

The shrill screech breaks him out of it and he snaps to attention, eyes moving from Lars' neck to his face. He suddenly realizes exactly what he was doing, and and looks to the ground embarrassed. How was he going to explain so many seconds of blatant staring?

"Sorry..." he starts, trailing off afterwards. Maybe if he just apologized that would be enough? Of course, he can still hear the pulse of Lars heart, even from this far away, but he can sense the blood of those in the kitchen as well. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, pushing down the instinct that insists these mortals are beneath him.

"Sorry." he repeats stronger this time, actually looking Lars in the eye now as he speaks.

/ARRIVES A BILLION YEARS LATE

[fragileandsoft]

Though the kitchen couldn't exactly be described as 'busy' by normal standards, Greg's lack of proper kitchen experience makes things take far longer than necessary. By the time he catches sight of Lars waiting around, though, he does his best to pull himself together. Can't just go on break and leave Jimmy to pick up his mess, after all.

Finally, Greg comes over next to Lars, a burger-laden plate in each hand. "Hey there, Lars. Mind if I sit with you while we eat?" All this kitchen business has worked up a proper appetite instead of his usual nervous eating.

/counters by responding a billion years late

[mossbuds]

"Oh!" Lars jumps a little, as if startled out of his thoughts—he'd been previously slumped over the table, elbow on the surface of it with his chin in his palm, fixed in a stern, tired scowl. But when spooked out of his characteristically ornery trance, Lars's elbows come off the table, and he scoots over, blinking his wide, worn eyes at Greg.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Knock yourself out."

There's a handful of people Lars would have told off instead of welcoming, but... that number has been diminishing gradually, and Greg's been early among them.

After all, he can't keep up his shtick forever.

[puddingemote]

King's Pudding always makes you feel happy no matter what. That's what Tamaki's mother told him, and he believes it. But alas, there is no King's Pudding here; it's all back in his room, left behind when he was suddenly thrown out along with the rest of the Carnival workers.

Well, the ones that aren't kidnapped.

There's absolutely nothing Tamaki can do about that now, though, not having any real fighting experience or skills. Instead he's sulking, taking angry bites of the foot in front of him. It's something to occupy his hands with, and he's always hungry anyway, but it can't fully distract him from their missing friends and coworkers. Occasionally, he pushes the vegetables that somehow ended up his plate off with low energy pokes of his fork.

He swipes them out of the way when someone comes around looking for a seat.