middaeg | 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

[Niles looks increasingly bored as Linden continues. At the end he rolls his eyes.]

One question, one slice of liver. If you want me to listen to you lecture, then I get to shove this down your throat at the end.

[He holds up the kidney and squeezes it threateningly. Some juice flows out of it and drips down his arm.]

Here's a question.

[He takes another bite, chewing deliberately and maintaining eye contact.]

Did that strike a nerve just a bit?

[Niles gives a dismissive huff, and looks down at the kidney in his hand. He squeezes it a few more times, a small smile appearing on his face at the texture and resistance of it.]

Yes. Now by all means, keep wasting your questions on things you already know.

[He scoots a few onions around on the plate, moving the remaining liver pieces to a cleared portion in the center.]

Two left until we get started with this.

[L should be revulsed by the way Niles squeezes that kidney as though daydreaming about how he would like to mutilate it, or use it to mutilate others... but he's fascinated. He can't help it.]

It's lucky that I don't have many left. I'd really hate to overstay my welcome, and besides, it's a bad idea to rush too much meat on a stomach not accustomed to it.

[Two left, full stop. And he doesn't feel he's wasting them; just hearing Niles admit it, witnessing the tone and expression, say volumes.]

Why does it strike a nerve?

[Niles tilts his head to the side, initially unsure of how to answer. His reputation as a former thief, murderer, whore, and general Undesirable was well known to the whole castle. And he encouraged it. Anyone who would avoid him on those grounds did, and he was richer for not having to interact with them. As such, any moralizing or preaching directed at him was targeted specifically with knowledge of his past, although almost never with any understanding of it. Here he has a chance to guard some of that information if he wishes. He'd already admitted to being homeless, so maybe Linden could easily put the pieces together on his own, but he needn't be explicit about his traumas if he didn't want to.]

...I don't like being falsely accused.

[Their former reputations couldn't be more opposite from one another. Across from Niles sits a man who convincingly wears the face of a daft overgrown child, but behind the mask is a lawman, an invoker of justice, celibate and sought-after and wholly anonymous in a world that knew and admired his title, but never his name or face.

One slice of liver remains. L's last question is one he's invested in, so much that he's the one who seems to be actively enjoying himself by this point. Because the pieces, oh. They are beginning to slide and slot into place like one of Near's rapidly completed puzzles.]

And, so... what is the worst crime you could be accused of, falsely or no?

[Well that's definitely not what he was expecting. It's also uncharacteristically vague. He could just answer with what he thinks is objectively the worst crime, rather than the worst crime it'd be reasonable to assume he'd committed.

The former didn't interest him as a part of this game with Linden. This wasn't about his abstract view of morality, or his opinions on how a civilized society should be structured. This was about him and his actions, and he's never been one to deny his faults. So he'll pull from his own experience. Still, that leaves him with plenty of options. He's never really thought of a hierarchy of his despicable actions. There's a handful that are clearly the most socially reviled actions, but even among them there are a few that are pretty equivalent. Hand to his chin he has to think for a long moment before a sickly smile curves over his face.]

Probably cannibalism.

[And Linden thought seasoned, pan fried liver was bad. Weakling.]

[For the last question to count as much as possible, L's relying on the implied questions he didn't explicitly ask, as well as Niles' reaction as a whole, to give him the most bang for his bite. And he's not actually disappointed, even if the sly satisfaction says pretty plainly that Niles believes he's being clever. And he is, of course; otherwise, this wouldn't be worth L's time.]

It doesn't seem to bother you much, for something you chose as "the worst crime" you personally could be accused of.

[In fact, it seems to bring Niles pleasure.]

It implies that crime in general doesn't bother you, which contradicts your claim that you dislike being falsely accused. Either it matters, or it doesn't.

[Niles crosses his arms and shakes his head making a condescending tsk-tsk-tsk noise as he does.]

You're all out of questions. But out of the kindness of my heart, [He can't say that with a straight face.] I'll give you a little elaboration. I'm proud of what I've survived, vile as it may be.

[It's hardly kindness... but it's some kind of grace and charity. L can appreciate that, even when it comes from a somewhat twisted place. The destination, after all, is also so very twisted.]

We're unlikely to give each other much else, aren't we? At least, for just now...

[He pushes away from the serving surface, moving to stand.]

But you've given me quite a lot to think about.

For now.

[He nods in agreement. As Linden moves to get up however, his smile fades out. It's replaced by a much more genuine albeit difficult to read blend of severity and maybe just a hint of concern. He sets the kidney down on the table, moving it behind some kitchen equipment to put it out of sight.]

In all seriousness; do not trust the Squip.

As I mentioned, you've given me a lot to think about... but much like this liver, it has to be digested. You understand, I'm sure.

[He's bad at farewells. With merely a glance over his shoulder, scarcely that, he's departing.]

Come get y'all Goose.

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