Heron mingle

[exothermia]

Who: Heron and visitors
Broadcast: N/A
Action: the Heron
When: April

[Hello birdies! We've got new bunks and a quieter engine, and possibly some rumours stuck to the fridge. What are you getting up to this month?]

Comments

[exothermia]

[After the first couple of rumours, Erik didn't much bother to read them either. If any appear in his personal quarters, he hasn't mentioned it. It's when they appear in the communal kitchen that his irritation flares.

He quirks an eyebrow with faint surprise when he sees Charles has made it into the kitchen ahead of him.]

You're up early.

[Moving as he talks, he pulls another note off the fridge without reading it - 'Erik's real name is Max Eisenhardt' - and starts to pick through the containers inside.]

[axiomed]

[ His expression is bemused as he answers. ]

I couldn't sleep. Had another one of my headaches.

[exothermia]

[Erik makes a considering noise, then pulls a container of kelp out of the fridge. He glances at Charles again as he puts it on the counter, expression softening.]

They haven't been too frequent?

[axiomed]

No. They come on when we shift from planets to the ships. It's like . . . [ He pauses. ] Being used to too much and then adapting back to less.

[exothermia]

Does the reverse happen too?

[axiomed]

Certainly. Changes in volume are always disorienting. But it's never debilitating. I have a headache, but it's gone in a day or so.

[exothermia]

[He nods; if Charles has experienced this before then he would know best.]

Hopefully it passes soon then. Any requests for breakfast?

[axiomed]

[ Reassuringly. ]

I'm sure it will.

[ He smiles. ] I should have headaches more often if it gets me breakfast requests.

[exothermia]

Well, you aren't normally awake to ask.

[axiomed]

That sounds like a jab at my sleeping habits.

[exothermia]

Not a jab - an observation.

[There's amusement in his voice though. Turning to the cupboards, he retrieves some of the rationed supplies.]

[axiomed]

I suppose you would know.

[ He moves his chair around to help. ]

[exothermia]

[Humming his thanks, he divides the goods up and shifts half towards Charles.]

You haven't made a request yet, though.

[axiomed]

Hmm. How about French toast?

[exothermia]

French toast... [He crosses his arms, surveying the supplies on hand.] I should be able to make that. The bread might be closer to a pancake, but if you don't mind that?

[axiomed]

It's fine, Erik, especially since you're indulging me already.

[exothermia]

The lack of bread just means I need to adapt something else.

[He gestures to the supplies.]

We'll need the flour and egg substitute from those.

[axiomed]

I'm positive we stocked up on flour. Let me take a look. . .

[ He purses his lips, assessing the cabinets before his expression brightens. He raises his chair to open the cabinet, pulling out the sack of flour. ]

[exothermia]

Ah, you're right. [They do tend to hoard basic staples when they can. Erik had forgotten that one particular stash. He goes back into the fridge to retrieve the butter substitute, and then fishes the potato flakes from the cupboard.] If this ends up tasting like French toast at all, I'll consider it very successful.

[axiomed]

[ Charles steadies his chair once more as he lowers it. ]

I imagine any of our culinary work here can be a hit or miss.

[exothermia]

Using alien ingredients does add a larger margin of error than I'm used to.

[He clears the bench, and lays down those new flimsy cutting boards the kitchen now has.]

[axiomed]

Entertaining errors though.

[exothermia]

For you, perhaps.

[axiomed]

I say it out of love.

[exothermia]

[The comment makes him pause, but his smile is brighter for it. He begins measuring out the flour with steady hands.]

As long as there's no outright laughter, I suppose I'll make do.