Peggy Carter (
mucked) wrote in
driftfleet2015-10-08 08:45 pm
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( video )
Who: Peggy Carter + OPEN
Broadcast: video
Action: s.s. starstruck
When: mid-morning
[ ah, tea. however-bloody-many leagues into deep space and there's still provision for tea. nearly two months on, and she can at least depend upon leaves steeped in hot water as some sort of intergalactic lingua franca. cheers the soul, really. it isn't perfectly like her preferred cuppa on earth, but it suffices. and so this morning finds her sitting within arm's reach of the starstruck's comms, while her fingers wrap around a mug of that precious brew. ]
-- The battle that happened before we came across the planet. Is that a common occurrence? Bouts of cackhanded shooting, followed by the fortuitous retreat of our opponents. [ to be fair, she doesn't really know if it was all bad shooting. she's no expert in space-warfare. everything looks a little cackhanded when there's no ground to anchor your view. and let's not begin to count all the things she doesn't know about nebulas. more importantly: ] How often does the fleet come under enemy fire? Can they even be called proper enemies? Can anyone explain why were being shot at?
[ she's still new here, and she craves answers. but even she can hear that grinding note of too much tension in her voice. she knows it's time ease off the throttle. peggy takes a long (savoured) sip of tea and regains a measure of her own composure. ] Heavens, but it'd be nice if these godawful food pastes could be slapped together in a combination that even slightly resembled a Garibaldi. Tea isn't tea without a biscuit.
Broadcast: video
Action: s.s. starstruck
When: mid-morning
[ ah, tea. however-bloody-many leagues into deep space and there's still provision for tea. nearly two months on, and she can at least depend upon leaves steeped in hot water as some sort of intergalactic lingua franca. cheers the soul, really. it isn't perfectly like her preferred cuppa on earth, but it suffices. and so this morning finds her sitting within arm's reach of the starstruck's comms, while her fingers wrap around a mug of that precious brew. ]
-- The battle that happened before we came across the planet. Is that a common occurrence? Bouts of cackhanded shooting, followed by the fortuitous retreat of our opponents. [ to be fair, she doesn't really know if it was all bad shooting. she's no expert in space-warfare. everything looks a little cackhanded when there's no ground to anchor your view. and let's not begin to count all the things she doesn't know about nebulas. more importantly: ] How often does the fleet come under enemy fire? Can they even be called proper enemies? Can anyone explain why were being shot at?
[ she's still new here, and she craves answers. but even she can hear that grinding note of too much tension in her voice. she knows it's time ease off the throttle. peggy takes a long (savoured) sip of tea and regains a measure of her own composure. ] Heavens, but it'd be nice if these godawful food pastes could be slapped together in a combination that even slightly resembled a Garibaldi. Tea isn't tea without a biscuit.
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I can't say I know a lot about the ships that attacked us, but - if you've got baking supplies, I could drop by and help out with your biscuit issue.
[He manages a small smile.] That's why I always stock up when we visit places. Good food's hard to find around here.
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[He pauses for a few seconds, because that isn't the surname he normally goes by - Alesci. His last name's Alesci too.]
No specialty, really. I'm technically the medic on the Paisley, but since we don't have a cook, I've been picking up the slack. You'd, uh, have to fill me in about your Garibaldis.
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Peggy Carter. [ ... ] And I'm afraid Garibaldis are likely a little too much trouble than they're worth. All those currants what need squashing. Still, the thought is lovely.
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[He furrows his brow a little, trying to imagine what kind of dessert would require smashed currants. Nothing comes to mind.] In that case... my sister taught me how to make sugar cookies, a long time back. I'm not half as good as she is, but they come out decent.
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[He grins, more genuinely this time, because oh is he familiar with the Starstruck.] That works out well. Yosuke and I were going to play cards later anyways. See you in about fifteen minutes?
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[ as if she could wander anywhere, really. ]
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Hey, Ms. Carter. [It feels a bit weird to him, this last-name basis thing, but he'll get over it.] Ready for an impromptu baking lesson?
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A lesson, is it? [ a soft snort -- almost laughter. ] I hadn't realized I'd agreed to learn anything.
[ and yet she doesn't seem too distraught. ]
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At some point, he'll be embarrassed about how blindingly red it is, but it beats the jumpsuits.]
You're gonna keep me company while I bake, right? [Teasingly:] I figure, I might as well show you what I know in case I'm all tied up the next time someone wants biscuits.
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Oh, you can certainly try to teach me, Mister Salvatore. [ a slow smile. ] But I'm afraid I'm a terribly slow learner.
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I'm sure greater men have tried and failed. I figure, if you don't learn this time, I can always bake another batch the next time I'm over.
[Worst case scenario, he can lord the extra cookies over his best friend. A win-win situation for everyone, right? So without further delay, he takes a quick peek at the baking supplies, grabbing the relevant items with an almost delighted ease. It's been a long, long time since he's seen anything remotely close to a kitchen like this.]
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I think I could at least manage to make you a cuppa, if you'll have one.
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[He manages a grin, still wrangling what he needs - and partially admiring how much more well-stocked this kitchen is. Ah well, a guy can dream about upgrading his own later.] There's never a wrong time for tea, in my opinion.
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There's almost never a wrong time for tea, except for when it's a time for whiskey. [ or brandy. or gin. ]
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[Not really; Stefan no longer drinks, as his faith mandates him to. Still, it's not something he's keen on explaining, so he ignores it in favor of grabbing the last bowl.] Now, I think that's everything. I had to bring butter and baking soda from my ship, but...
[He takes the dry ingredients and starts to mix them together.] We don't really bake yet, so it's not like I had much use for them.
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[ like incremental rewards, built to train their charges how to behave in certain ways. you tempt the resistant subject with a small treat, and you string her onward until she dances to every tune for the mere suggestion of a fresh reward. but that's a dreary take, and she'll not voice it too loudly when she herself is falling prey to their convenience.
peggy sets a fresh clean mug next to her already-used one, and waits for the water to heat. ]
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[His have been incredibly high these past few months, and while he has some inkling as to why, he's a bit embarrassed as to the cause. Surely their audience isn't fascinated with his (mess of a) love life.
It's a bit difficult, modifying the recipe so it'll be an edible cookie - the Fleet lacks the milk he's used to, as well as things like eggs - but Stefan seems to manage well enough with the alternatives.]
We get sponsor gifts sometimes, like my t-shirt, but they're a bit on the useless side.
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Do you know what it means?
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A few months ago, the entire Fleet received soda bottles, in the vein of this advertising campaign on Earth to "share a soda with someone." Except instead of saying 'someone,' you'd have that person's name. Except, because this is the Fleet, everyone's names - mine included - got misspelled. So "Salvatore" became "Salvation."
I thought that was the end of it, but then last week, we got two crates of these. [He'd tug at his t-shirt, but he's very grateful to have his hands busy with mixing ingredients.] I figured, better to wear these out than the shirt I arrived with.
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[ dry -- almost unhappy. she doesn't like the possibility of being so toyed with. an outright war might be simpler. ]
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[If the crates were any indication. Stefan lets out a sigh as he takes the mixture - now some kind of dough - and scoops them out onto a baking sheet.]
We can't get rid of them fast enough - but Yosuke liked his, at least.
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