[open] august starstruck mingle

[wingedman]

Who: Everyone!
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Starstruck
When: August 1-31

Everyone on the Starstruck is regretting their life and their choices. Why does anyone want to visit this ship again?

Comments

[edwinjarvis]

Oh!

[—is the fond noise behind Sam, as Jarvis looks at this box of baked goodies.]

These are quite lovely; are you a chef of sorts, Mr. Wilson?

[When can I hire you to work at The Melting Pot?

Despite the dark cloud around the Starstruck recently, Jarvis is dead determined to be more cheerful than he's been the past few weeks; it'll do no good, to give in to the darkness of the calibrations - and of everything in between. It's just terribly hard, and most definitely draining. He'll do it anyway.]

[wingedman]

Hey, Jarvis. [Sam turns away from the stove to give him a wave and a friendly smile. Unlike everyone else on the ship, he doesn't seem to be under a bleak cloud of depression or...anything else.] Those aren't mine, I got 'em from the planet. I can cook, though. Making some spaghetti tonight - I'm pretty sure this is tomato sauce. Tomato-ish sauce, anyway. Space tomatoes.

[edwinjarvis]

[He appreciates your lack of depressive clouds. Jarvis has had his own, though he's well versed in masking them with work and henning over others; it's a trade secret. He wanders over and observes the spaghetti-in-progress, eyebrows raised. He looks to Sam.]

Exploration is vital to cooking, at least.

Hopefully it's tomato-ish enough; it may very well not, but you may be onto a special new dish if it isn't.

[wingedman]

It tastes pretty tomato-ish. Not as acidic as you'd expect, but that just means you don't have to try and cut the acid. Only one spoonful of brown sugar.

[Yes, that's his secret ingredient. Trademark Sam Wilson, do not steal.]

I bake, too. You oughta see my pecan pie. Recipe's been passed down in my family for generations.

[edwinjarvis]

[Gasp.

His hand practically goes to his heart. Bless.]

Mr. Wilson, you must come cook for the bistro. You're under-utilized for your culinary knowledge.

[wingedman]

Oh, I don't know about that, but I'll come and cook for you, sure. Be nice to have something to do around here other than poke around the engine room.

[The Starstruck is a nice ship, and it runs smoothly most of the time. Doesn't leave an engineer a whole lot to get up to, though.]

[edwinjarvis]

[Jarvis is certainly pleased by this turn of events.]

It's one of the reasons I created the bistro, certainly.

As much as I enjoyed cooking for a select few, it hardly kept enough of my time. I had far more to do when I... worked for Mr. Stark, and alongside Miss Carter.

[wingedman]

[Tony's dad, right. He's mentioned that before. It's just strange to hear someone else referred to as Mr. Stark - but it's probably equally weird for Jarvis to hear people talking about Tony.]

I can imagine Peggy would've kept you busy, yeah. She seems like the type.

[Not demanding, he doesn't mean that. More like the type to keep going nonstop, and expect much the same of her companions. Sam knows that, because he knows Steve, and in some respects (many), Steve and Peggy are two peas in a pod.]

[edwinjarvis]

Most certainly, yes.

I've had her clinging to the top of my car while whole structures implode, among other things. Working with her has always been a -- new and unique challenge.

[wingedman]

[Sam just. Raises an eyebrow.]

Be glad you haven't had your steering wheel ripped out while you were driving. It's real hard to explain that one to an insurance adjuster, let me tell you.

[And he was so close to paying that car off.]

[edwinjarvis]

... I have not had the pleasure of having my steering wheel spirited away, but I have had the pleasure of being in the back of a speeding milk truck full of explosives potent enough to level a small town.

[He rolls his eyes to the heavens as he says it, as if he must pull from deep wells of strength and patience. By god, that was the worst voyage.]

Most unpleasant. It smelled of sour milk and chemicals.