middaeg | Come get y'all Goose.

Entry tags:

Come get y'all Goose.

Who: Niles, Entrapta, and anybody else!
When: Oct 1-12
Where: Refugee district/outside the city
What: Killing Cooking and Serving Geese
Warnings: None as of yet.

Hunting

i) Open

[Niles was not normally an early riser, but several mornings a week this month he can be found up and about in the hour or so before dawn. Bow in hand, quiver fully stocked, and pulling a small cart behind him he heads outside the city walls to hunt. With a bounty set on goose feathers, and a whole mess of new residents to feed in the refugee sector, Niles saw an excellent opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, or rather, solve two problems with one dead bird. Care to try and tag along?]

ii) Open

[Hunting is a calming, almost meditative activity for him, especially when aided by his new feline senses. Tracking game has never felt so intuitive, so natural, although he finds himself unconsciously sneaking much closer than he needs to get a clear shot. One of these times he might forget about his bow entirely and wind up pouncing claws and teeth first onto an unsuspecting bird. As such, sneaking up on him or startling him is ill advised. Better announce your presence first if you want to approach him mid-hunt.]

iii) Open

[By midmorning he's finished, some days with a full cart, others with less impressive hauls. Either way he's stopped at the entrance to the city proper and has to wait for city officials to thoroughly inspect each and every bird he's shot for signs of infection. Logically, Niles knows this is reasonable. The Cwyld is serious business and with quarantine procedures too much is better than too little. Emotionally however, he's grumpy, tired, and doesn't like standing around impotently while others pour over his work and discard some of his hard earned catches. So he passes this time by plucking any of the approved birds until the inspectors are satisfied. Feel like giving him a hand?]

Head Chef

i) Closed to Entrapta

[Niles grew up in the slums, and while the refugee section of town wasn't quite as derelict, it was far from comfortable lodgings. He's not skilled with a hammer, has no experience with building, and all of his skills in companionship and entertaining are far from kid friendly. His expertise at thievery, subterfuge, stalking, and assassination were also not very helpful for the work that needed doing. But the monsters rescued from Dorcharcht still needed their help, and Niles had more sympathy for them than just about anyone else he'd ever met. The sudden and overwhelmingly positive upheaval of their lives was familiar to him. Being yanked from desolate circumstances into relative luxury was its own kind of challenge and came with a unique set of growing pains and he'd be damned if he was going to let them face that alone. The least he could do was make sure they faced each day with a full belly, just as Leo had done for him.

So just outside of the bustle of construction and renovation Niles has set up several long tables. He's got a large stew pot on one, a few partially butchered goose carcasses next to it, an assortment of knives and pans and other donated equipment scattered about in a haphazard sprawl. This is where he brings Entrapta now, gesturing at the space he's claimed for his kitchen.]

An oven would be great, but mostly I need stoves. Stew is always the best choice for serving large crowds, but that takes time, and until then I'll want to be at least searing some meat and serving it along with bread and whatever other donated goods we can get our hands on.

[He looks to her expectantly, waiting for direction, his eye darting over the mound of parts and pieces she'd brought with her.]

ii) Open

[Pop-up kitchen now fully functional and stew pot simmering away behind him, Niles spends the remainder of the day chopping, peeling, frying, salting, slicing, seasoning, and serving whatever donated food he can get his hands on to hungry refugees and workers. Niles isn't exactly a culinary genius, but he's practiced at taking humble ingredients and making the most of them. His food is filling, flavorful, and satisfying, but don't take more than your fair share. His supplies are tight, and he's keeping a watchful eye over portion sizes, trying to make sure there's enough to go around.]

((OOC: Head Chef ii) is more exposition than anything else, feel free to tag in requesting a specific order, returning empty dishes, complimenting or critiquing his food, volunteering to help, whatever floats your boat.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No one in this city is charging that much for dark chocolate and fruit.

[L approached this stand looking very hungry and a bit daft. It's typically a safe way to appear, because no one is going to assume that he's a threat, and he's excellent at maintaining it... perhaps until his interest is sincerely piqued. This is the guy who tortured and killed L's partner; a spark of hidden but absolutely blazing intelligence is alive in his dark eyes, going a long way toward smudging out that affected daftness.

The hunger remains.]

But you're not no one... are you.

Everybody's someone.

[See? He can be vague and meaningless too if he wants to be. He doesn't like the change that's come over L and his tail swishes warily. His eyes are no longer on the frying pan but locked on L's expression.]

[L's eyes follow the movement of Niles' tail. The SQUIP was killed at the business end of that thing, didn't it? L remembers feeling the shock, pain and rage through their Bond; though it had all been secondhand, it had been enough to put him on the floor, curled and trembling and absolutely shattering his stoic front. Not much can do that.]

Some shine brighter than others.

[Some draw more notice, attraction, ire. Those are the ones that matter to him. He reaches for the knife, and it takes some jimmying before he is able to pull it loose. It was really stuck in there; it looks out of place and inept in his thin hands, holding it delicately after the effort it took to dislodge it.]

What were you before you came here? A hunter, clearly, but... you know your way around weapons, you're quick to use them just to make a point to someone who's clearly not a threat to you. There's more to it, I'd wager.

[Soldier? Assassin?]

[Both and more actually.

The knife looks comical in L's grip, but Niles knows better than to disregard a possible threat just because of appearance. It would be absolutely wild if this sickly looking stranger attacked him in broad daylight over something as trivial as a few back and forth insults but hey, this place gets all types.

Niles' eyebrows bounce on his forehead, and his ears perk up at the same time, highlighting the gesture. What was he? Honestly that question had a pretty long answer. He'd been a lot of things and done a lot of jobs in his time so it takes him a minute to decide what to say. Ultimately he settles on the simplest version of the truth. He has no reason to hide it.]

A bodyguard, more or less.

[L's not a threat to Niles... at least, not overtly, and not at this time. He's playing with the knife more than considering a grip or a strategy; those tapered, uncalloused fingers could be a concert pianist's or a swift typist's, but there's no way in hell they're a fighter's.

Not that witches need to be adept in hand-to-hand. L continues to stare owlishly at the chimera, studying his posture, his movements, his mannerisms, as that liver continues to pop and sizzle in the frying pan.

Reducing for simplicity, or secrecy? He wonders. His head tilts thoughtfully.]

I've always wondered what compels someone to pursue a career like that. It's dangerous, isn't it?

[A leading question, of course. Some types would go into it purely because they had someone particular they wanted to protect; others migrated to it after gaining a conducive skill set in another field.]

And it's part of the job description to be the first in the line of fire. Not everyone's cut out for that kind of thing.

[L, for instance, who had in fact employed his own bodyguard once upon a different life.]

And I wonder what drives someone to be so picky that they waste away in a land of plenty. It's foolish, isn't it?

[That unrelenting interest puts Niles on edge, but it also brings a small smile to his lips. For some reason L wanted information on him, and Niles always felt better about a situation when he had what the other party wanted. Now to stall and figure out how much it was worth it to him.]

If you want the nitty gritty details of my life I'm going to want something in return.

[What, indeed? L himself probably doesn't have a terrific grasp on the kinds of deep-seated neuroses that compel such an absurdly finicky and even entitled concept of what should be available, where, and when. But Niles' point is made, he's silent in response, having no answer or pithy comeback. It's accurate, even if he searches for any way to rationalize it out of the realm of foolishness. It's more complicated with him; it must be. It always is.]

Is it 2 million cune?

[Or something he can actually deliver? L realizes full well that this could be a mere tease, but his attention is still effectively held.]

How about this.

[Niles stops speaking for a moment while he bustles around a bit behind the table looking for a plate and utensils. He transfers the now cooked if still rare liver and onions onto the plate and sets it down in front of L.]

You eat one slice of liver, I answer one question.

[L stares very levelly and very gravely at Niles; there's the sense that a lot of effort has already gone into the preparation of something that L made clear from the onset he did not want, suggesting that the one-eyed chimera stands to gain something from it whether or not it's monetary compensation. Why did he continue cooking? Why does he, even as L sicks here looking like he might be sick?

Still, he's a deeply curious person. To a fault. He's quite literally the cat that it killed, which is why he sets his jaw, nodding stiffly even though he'd probably rather pay 2 million cune.]

Are there any conditions on the questions?

[He fully intends to use a mild truth charm to see if Niles is lying, but L has long been himself a human lie detector. It might not be necessary, but if he has to eat liver, he won't suffer himself to be cheated.]

[Niles' smile grows directly in proportion to L's glare. He'd initially cooked the liver intending to eat it himself if L didn't want it. Which he follows up on by spearing a piece on a fork and nibbling it contemplatively as he considers what he's willing to divulge. Now that he's got the opportunity to make this dower annoyance squirm he's willing to sacrifice a little effort, (and a little liver), to see that through.]

Ask the question before you take a bite, and I'll either accept or decline. "Payment" only required on answered questions, naturally.

[He takes another, larger bite of liver, chews and swallows it, licks his lips.]

Do we have a deal?

[L inhales, exhaling slightly more slowly, in a seeming attempt to ease his nausea a little bit at the sight and smell of that sizzling liver. More so when Niles actually takes a bite. He can already imagine the texture, the savory rich flavor, the way it slides sickeningly down his throat whether or not he deigns to chew it. He supposes he could not chew it, to make the process slightly easier on himself... but there's nothing to drink, and that might be cheating in the eyes of this person.]

We have a deal. But first... if we were to exchange names, I'd consider it a fair and equal exchange that doesn't count toward any sort of liver quota.

[This man didn't look like a fairy. And he's pretty sure magic here isn't bound by names. Niles slides a fork across the table.]

Call me Niles.

[Niles might be surprised at how much power names hold over a person in L's world. It's at least as much as they hold over the will of a fairy, classically, and L has every reason to fear his real one falling into the wrong hands.]

It's Linden Tailor.

[It's not, but the answer is an honest one in the sense that no one would fail to recognize the name as his.

He grips his fork like a weapon. He's in for a battle, so it's not really inappropriate.]

For my first question, I'd like to know what compelled you to pursue a career as a bodyguard.

[He keeps it broad, doesn't specify. The more information he gets for this solitary, difficult first bite, the better.]

[Game on.]

It was a definitive step up from being a homeless thug.

[It's a juicy answer, and Niles is watching keenly. The first reaction, (both to the liver and the first detail about his past), is very important.]

Edited 2019-10-17 19:55 (UTC)

[L nods; the answer is juicy, and there's plenty to unpack. Few would debate that a job title like "bodyguard" would be more financially secure than "homeless," and command more respect than being a designated "thug," regardless of whether the employment was legitimate or shady.]

That must have been... hard.

[The attempt is at sympathy, but the affectation is lacking. L speaks like someone who knows what one is supposed to say, but cannot fully feel what it's all supposed to be rooted in. The tines of his fork slide into the slice of liver on his plate. It's a small bite, but it counts as a bite, and his gag reflex has never been so alive and repulsed. Eyes watering, he forces it down, and the taste of salt and blood is still thick on his tongue.

Next question; no further comment. He's appraising Niles, however, and deciding that he doesn't have difficulty believing that the skillsets translate well enough, that his experience and temperament were both doubtless well-suited to his new role.]

What is your current primary occupation in Aefenglom?

[Still a bodyguard? Something similar?]

Edited 2019-10-17 20:06 (UTC)

[The clearly flat sympathetic gesture sees Niles' eyebrows bounce in amusement. It's nothing compared to the grin when Linden asks his second question. Seeing Linden so repulsed, the most emotive he'd been this whole conversation, was thrilling and he wanted more.]

Ah, ah-ah. One slice, one question.

[He takes his own fork and stirs the pieces around, separating out the larger chunks the liver had been cooked in. For good measure he takes one of the smaller ones and puts it in his mouth whole. That was a penalty for trying to cheat him.]

[L's already round eyes widen, and his face darkens in displeasure almost as quickly. He actually did think he could get away with that, that the merit of trying something so unusually difficult for him might squeak by the terms of the game.

No such luck. He watches as one of the smaller pieces disappears from his plate, leaving him with far more intimidating, grotesquely huge slabs of liver.

Better make those questions count. He finishes off his slice, chewing as little as possible and grimacing the whole time.]

Same question.

[Niles reaches out and grabs Linden by the chin, trying to force his mouth open.]

Let me see you swallowed-

[L's reaction is swift, nearly reflexive. In fact, it must be, because more presence of mind mind inspire him to use a magical defense. Instead, it's jerking back, nearly toppling from his seat, driving his heels against the edge of the table. He's wearing a pair of sturdy and relatively stylish boots, selected by the SQUIP, but there's no doubt that if he was barefoot, his toes would be gripping on for purchase.]

I know our deal, and I always swallow.

[Though the double entendre would be pretty funny if it was intended, L's peeved enough that it's probably not the case. If Niles backs off, he'll lower his legs one by one, gradually composing himself again.]

Answer the question.

[The innuendo was very intentional on his part, and after a startled blink at the magnitude of Linden's reaction, Niles doubles down on it, taking full advantage of the setup Linden gave him.]

Even for a man you just met? Very well, I'll take your word for it. Even the best of us have a bit of trouble talking with a mouth full after all, eh?

[He folds his arms and his eye flicks up and away, considering what to say. He'd clearly crossed a line there, and he wants L to keep playing, so he decides to give him a decently lengthy answer.]

Mostly a scavenger. I know a woman, a scholar, an inventor really, she pays well for machine parts, strange things, junk, that I bring her from scrapyards. I hunt outside the city walls, for myself at first, now for them. [He gestures over towards the various people working on the buildings.]

And I won't lie. There was some pick-pocketing in the beginning. But once my roommate disappeared I got some startup funds by selling the things he left behind.

[There, plenty of good true information in there. None of it especially important, but there it is.]

[For all his bizarre mannerisms and behaviors, L rather seems at times like he was born to be mocked. When it actually happens and he's this high-strung, he doesn't actually appreciate it very much. Everyone has sensitive points, and even the famously unflappable detective is no true exception.]

On the contrary, I'm starting to feel like I know you very well.

[Once his personal bubble has been restored, he leans forward on his elbows, not wanting to miss a single detail, and Niles is providing quite a few. A peace offering of sorts, perhaps... and a shame there's not much he can do with it.

He squeezes his eyes closed, taking another bite, teeth grinding into meat that is only slightly thicker than a paste. He saw it when it was raw, the way it wiggled like jelly, and tries to put it from his mind.]

Who are you Bonded to, if anyone?

[Niles chuckled, and savored every last crease on Linden's face. Sadist to the core, seeing this is a little like watching a ballet. A real artistic performance to be enthralled by.

And then he comes back swinging, going straight at a would be weakness.]

No one.

[Swing and a miss. Being single revealed some things about Niles of course, but it didn't give the man a secondary target or source of information.]

[The longer L interacts with Niles, whether through subtle quiet tells or overt and obvious signs, it's becoming increasingly apparent just where he gets his jollies. It sits more unpleasantly in his stomach than the liver, and he decides that as much as he loves games with high stakes, he won't mourn it when this is over.

He takes another bite. Finishes the slice; chews, and very clearly swallows. After it's over, he's going to be sick, but until then...]

Was that always true?

[Niles makes a point not to hide his true nature. Sometimes he even exaggerates it on purpose, but this is all genuine. Retaliating to a minor slight with this level of vitriol is par for the course for him. As Linden's reactions to the liver taper off the game is losing some of its charm, but no doubt he was still in acute distress, just adjusting and better able to keep a stoic face.

Probing a little deeper eh? Niles is a little wary of this line of questioning, but does his best not to let it show, shit eating grin firmly in place.]

I formed a temporary bond not long after I arrived.

[He hadn't asked for a name this time, and Niles isn't about to start handing out freebies.]

[The SQUIP, somewhere on the other side of the Bond, is leaking displeasure and embarrassment. The onslaught is so sudden that L chokes a bit on his next bite, and it actually has nothing at all to do with the taste.

Steady on...!]

I see.

[He doesn't need to ask who. He knows who.]

It ended poorly, did it?

[He knows that it did. Maybe the cast of his eyes suggests it... but it can be so hard to tell, with L's strange glassy gaze.]

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