driftfleet | (no subject)

[for whatever reasons someone might want to find Zhas, he is in the kitchen, carefully cutting up bits of raw ostrich against a cutting board and dropping them in a pan with some other things--oil, canned vegetables, some kind of spice.

he's still got a skull painted on his face, but he's also... wearing... an apron... instead of his usual coat. you know, to keep his clothes clean. it smells good, whatever it is.]

[ And here is Cecil, going to the kitchen to force herself to eat something, but when she sees Zhas cooking, she turns sharply on her heel to walk right out of there again. They'd spotted each other sooner, but it seemed both of them had the same idea about how to deal with the situation: don't.

She almost makes it out too, but she catches sight of the apron he's wearing and she's so surprised by it that she stubs her toe on the door, alerting pretty much everyone in the whole ship to her presence in the kitchen. ]

[he kind of knows she's there. it's a small ship. he's keenly familiar with what her strange magics feel like, now. so he's not surprised when he hears her walk into the kitchen, and then walk right back out again.

...he is surprised to hear the botched exit. he stops what he's doing, paused halfway through raising his knife, and turns to look...]

[ She hisses a curse under her breath, mostly directed at herself, and hops back on one leg for a moment before setting her bumped foot down and shaking her head with annoyance. She pointedly tries very hard not to pay him any mind, trying to make it seem as though she wasn't just attempting to make a run for it, though the silence where the telltale sound of a knife hitting a surface should be tells her he's definitely stopped doing what he was doing and now he's looking at her make a fool of herself. ]

[...well, he clicks his tongue and goes back to cutting. lucky for her, he's not too interested in making fun of something that stupid. they aren't on that good of terms yet.

he also taps the cutting board with the flat side of his knife, a couple of times, to let her know he doesn't care if she comes in. sure, that's... kind of hard to guess since it has absolutely nothing to do with that to a normal person, but hey.]

[ It definitely doesn't. At the most, she gets the idea that the intentional noise is meant to catch her attention, so she stops fussing quietly after a bit and merely stands there by the doorway, leaning against the wall and watching him without a word.

It's quite a long while later that she decides to say anything. ]

...I didn't request a transfer here.

[by the time she speaks, he's sliced up the last of that meatstuff and dropped it in the pan--it smells really good, after all of that protein junk, and now that he's got his full sense of smell back.

he looks back at her again... but this time, he picks up a spatula, taps it on the counter twice, and then points with it to the table. this is a much clearer gesture, accompanied by the slight tilt of his head. pull up a chair, have a seat.

he must expect her to just do it, since he goes back to cooking. he's got a pot of something grain-like that he scoops out onto his frying food.]

[ She gets the hint much more easily this time and after some hesitation, she obeys. Personally, she's a little more upset about being moved around like a pawn on a game board than she is hungry, but the food does smell good and, well, she's a little weak to anything warm that smells nice. It at least offers some comfort, even if it makes her miss Barakiel sharply.

She watches him for a while in silence, uncertain if he either doesn't believe what she's told him or simply doesn't care. She's not really surprised that he knows how to cook apparently. Of course he'd be somewhat self-sufficient. She is a little impressed though that he seems to move about the kitchen as though all of this is second nature. Even she probably couldn't do that well if left to her own devices. ]

Mm... nice apron.

[he shrugs. hange and coil get the lab, and zhas gets the kitchen. everybody needs a hobby.

he packs down rice, sets down his spatula, and finally steps away from his work. he pulls on his shoulder while he turns, stretching out the tendons and muscles--one of the many strange effects of getting all healed up is that his shoulders eased up for the first time in years. now that he's back to his old habits, he has to feel them complain and ache all over again...

so he glances at the wall, neck stretched to the side, wearing an apron, and somehow looking exactly as serious, unimpressed, and vaguely annoyed as ever.]

Met Coil yet.

[ Cecil shakes her head in answer to his... well, his question. ]

He and Hange don't like each other much, it seems.

[ As she says this, she prepares a mild Cure spell, shooting it off in his direction to help with the tight muscles. She doesn't ask him first if it's all right to heal his aches and pains. ]

[well, at least he doesn't freak out this time...]

Stop that. [--hissed through his teeth, right before he shudders. you'd think she poured a bucket of ice water on him, not a small healing spell.]

I'm only trying to help. Why does it upset you so much?

[he shakes his head. he hates explaining. he told her that already. with his shoulders now relaxed against his will, he pushes forward with what he was talking about before.]

Listen. If Coil acts like a brat, tell me. Don't play games with him.