driftfleet | Video. the ramblings of a drunk british man.

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Video. the ramblings of a drunk british man.

Who: Jarvis and you, valentine. ;)
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Tourist/Iskaulit, wherever you catch him
When: Valentine's Day of course!!!

[Jarvis here, ready to be — drunk? Perhaps just a little. He is actually doing a PSA whether he realizes it or not, looking disapprovingly at his wine glass. He's rosy-cheeked and his tie is the slightest bit crooked. Just the slightest. And he is currently abandoning his coat because it is clearly getting hot in the Tourist kitchen.]

Oh, myyyyy goodnessgracious, I think — I... Yes, the wrong bottle, this is... the wrong bottle. It's just a little purple...er than the other I was supposed to take from the shelf. I should have known better; I can't read —

[He looks intently at the liquor bottle, marked in alien writing that their augments certainly can't translate.]

I can't read this, period. I think I accidentally drank one of the more potent... bottles...

[... hiccup]

... Not the whole bottle, mind you, I'm not a barbarian.

Clearly two glasses is downright diabolical. I apologize, Miss Nami, I believe this is one of the newer imports. I will have to credit it out in take — ...take it out in credits. Goodness, it's warm in here. I'm going to go to the Iskaulit, since I fancy it cooler there... Cookies!! [Yes, that's as sudden as it seems, and he claps his hands together.] I'll make some cookies, because it is Valentine's Day, and cookies have to be made, and I haven't the supplies nor the mind-power for chocolate... anything, really. And I certainly have nothing to do on Valentine's Day, no sir — or ma'am. I am quite freed up by... by the light-years-away... -ness, of my predicament. Very much free to bake indeed. I don't mind at all. I — it's very... un-routine of me, to have no one to bake for on this particular date.

[He huffs.]

If you don't have a valentine, please stop by the Space Bar kitchen, I will have cookies so you can at least eat cookies. It's completely unnecessary to have a single valentine — it doesn't need to be a... lady or fellow you fancy, either. I'll have you know I made my classmates biscuits every year, save for — goodness, that time in... 1925...? When I came down with the flu. What a terrible February that was. I thought I'd gone — bubonic.

..... I'm talking quite a lot.

If you'll excuse me, I need my apron. Where did I put my...

[...... He's wandered off.]

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[ Kubo arrives on the Tourist, glancing around as he shuffles the bag on his back. ]

Jarvis?

Hello, Kubo! Right this way!

[He's got his apron on and is wrist-deep in cookie dough.]

Have you been well?

[ He pauses, taking a moment to absorb that question before nodding. He has been feeling better. ]

Yeah. I'm good.

Wonderful!

[A bit peppier than usual, with a bit more punch, but he seems satisfied.]

Good enough to help me make some cookies, I hope?

Sure.

[ Kubo slips his backpack and neatly puts it on the side. Cooking isn't a pleasure, but it's something he's learned to enjoy in his own way. ]

What do I need to do?

[He hums a tune — one his wife and he were a fan of, while they worked — and then he nods toward the sink at the boy's inquiry.]

Wash up, and I'll have you prepare the cookie dough while I make the jelly that goes in the middle.

[ Kubo obediently heads for the sink, cleaning his hands properly. Then he watches the tap, leaning on his toes before closing his properly. Technology, even the tap, is pretty fascinating. ]

Dough?

That's right! Just over here. Mind your step, there's a stool.

[He steps aside, showing him the blob on the table, which has been dusted with flour.]

How familiar are you, with dough?

[ Kubo shakes his head. ]

I've never used it.

[ Mostly because he lived in a cave. ]

Oh, not a problem. We will have you use it now.

[He pats the dough, beckoning him to inspect it.]

It is a combination of butter, sugar, eggs, milk, vanilla extract, flour, baking powder, and just a touch of salt. No need to worry about remembering — if you want to learn, I'm more than certain you'll get the hang of it later.

For now, it must be kneaded well. Be sure to sprinkle flour on your hands on on the board — like so. So that it doesn't stick too badly while you work.

[He's showing him the motions, the work, the use of flour.]

When it feels mixed well, we roll it flat with a pin and cut hearts from it.

How did you make the dough so easily?

[ It's different from the kind they use for mochi and other desserts. Not that they had many rice fields near the village. They relied more on the sea. Still, he follows instructions calmly, occasionally pausing to feel the texture. ]

Quite a lot of experience and reading cookbooks.

My granny was very kind in letting me learn as a boy. Her home was a bit of a sanctuary for me, I suppose. [He smiles a bit.] This dough in particular is... made from substitutes from space, but I'd be happy to outline where everything comes from.

[ Kubo finds it a little hard to picture. ]

They have books for that?

They have books for everything, dear boy.

Anything you want to know, you can learn. The world is your oyster.

... Or space is, rather...

I don't think I've ever picked up a book. Even though I use paper all the time.

[ There are probably some in the village. His mother taught him the basics but they didn't get very far. As Kubo got older, his mother started fading away. ]

Then we will pick you up some books.

... Wonderful books full of harrowing adventures.

Cook books are rather dull in contrast.

[ Jokingly, in a light tone. ]

Books like that might put me out of a job.

Kubo, you underestimate yourself if you think books can replace a good performance.

But you should enjoy some journeys yourself.

You may even be more inspired than ever before.

I don't know. My last adventure was a lot of work.

[He quirks a brow, leaning over as if to impart some advice.]

That's why it's nice to read them, when they're not yours.

Less effort.

Less concussions.

[ He giggles. ]

Yeah. I learned that the hard way.

Right? Sometimes it's nice to let someone else handle it.

How's the dough coming along, Mr. Adventurer? Careful, it'll stick, keep the flour sprinkling.

I've got it.

[ He follows through methodically. ]

And I'm not an adventurer. I think I'll stick to telling stories.

Mr. Storyteller it is, then.

I've the jam prepared; we can leave that aside, for the meanwhile. Now, half of these will be circles, and half will be circles — with hearts carved in the middle. Watch here, I'll demonstrate.

[The hearts in question.

He does it quick and careful, practiced.]

. . . Are hearts supposed to look like that?

[ That doesn't seem right. ]

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