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

/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.

[fragileandsoft]

It's a lucky thing--if Lars had told Greg to buzz off, it would be really awkward to have this conversation standing up with platefuls of food in each hand.

"Urrf, glad to be off my feet a minute. Lost track of how long I was workin', back there."

Greg puts down one plate in front of Lars, and peers a little anxiously at the teen. His eyes linger on the gauze patch for the briefest moment. "You weren't waiting too long, were you?"