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xp_logsAfter Jennie's conversation with Shiro Jennie decides to take it out on several food products. Also Marius.
The kitchen at Xavier's was often a general hub of activity, students coming and going, staff sneaking meals between classes. It was privy to quieter times, many late night snack, quick meals, or the occasional culinary disaster. The later of which seemed to be well in progress that particular day. The tall, dark-haired girl in the flowered apron frowned at the recipe book she had perched against a sugar jar, as if it was responsible for her irritation that afternoon. "With a wooden spoon? Ew?" Jennie muttered to herself, before rolling her eyes and returning to her conversation with her companion.
"So then he totally tries to deny it, even though he's continuing to dig himself even deeper. I mean, seriously, if you're caught, it's better to just freaking own up to it," she sighed and swiped at a piece of hair that hung in her eyes, leaving a long smear of white flour on her cheek. Oblivious, she resumed stirring the mixture of flour and butter in front of her.
"Not precisely the sort of thing one's about to declaim to the nearest passerby, is it."
Originally, Marius had positioned himself at the table in the hopes of being spared the fate of collateral damage in Jennie's war against basic cooking implements. Now it offered the additional benefit of positioning him where she couldn't catch the look on his face unless she turned around.
Jennie licked her thumb before adding eggs to the mixture. "Well, no, you're right about that," she conceded as she resumed stirring with a little more force than strictly necessary. "But at the same time, it's better if you own up to something when you're called on it. I mean, lying about it to someone's face is just going to make it worse." Jennie rolled her eyes. "But then there's my bias. Helloooo bias."
"Ah. Always a pleasure." The boy returned his attention to the apple in his hand, which had been reduced to little more than a forlorn accessory. He looked at it rather blankly. "It is perhaps understandable why one would express some reluctance at lapsin' into old habits. This is, after all, strike two."
"All the more reason to have it pounded into his head now," Jennie said vehemently, unaware of her friend's discomfort. "To keep it at strike two instead of, y'know, strike ten. And there shouldn't have been a strike two in the first place." She set the spoon down on the counter loudly and looked over her shoulder at Marius. "It sucks watching someone destroy themselves over and over again because they just can't let go of something."
"An' yet for all that it seems a common enough past time, as I'm sure my father would agree. In all likelihood a similar opinion precipitated the showin' of my half-brother the door. A pity that evidence indicates it seemed not to have any appreciable effect on his wholehearted pursuit to embrace the very bottom of the gutter." Marius' teeth punctured the appleskin with a vicious crunch. "It's enough to make one wonder at what point one might as well step back from the flaming wreckage an' watch the pretty lights. Why bother pickin' up a bloke who can't be bothered to stand?"
"I dunno," Jennie said, checking the mixture in front of her for proper texture and then spooning it on to the waiting greased pan, making sure the rows were neat and orderly. "I mean, sometimes you just can't let go. Because someone's family. Even when they pretty much don't deserve it. But, then again, my mother doesn't compare to your brother. What with the whole she was a decent human being in spite of it all and everything," she paused and snorted softly. "Not that I met the douchebag. But still."
She put the pan in the oven and leaned against the countertop, facing Marius. "I'm guessing I'm so pissed off is because I'm so disappointed. I know better that to take an addict's word, and yet I did it anyway. We all did. You keep wanting to think someone's better than what they are."
"That right?" Marius stared at the dessicated apple and snorted softly. "Perhaps the reasoning on the other side of the equation is similar," he muttered.
"True," sighed Jennie. "But sometimes some people are just rotten to begin with." She put the pan in the sink and added liquid soap and water to let it soak, setting the spoon on top, before joining Marius at the table. The girl still had patches of flour dusting her face and arms, but she was pointedly unbothered by it. Instead she propped her chin in her hands. "What happened to Mark 1 anyway? Please tell me it involves sharp objects wedged into soft, uncomfortable places."
"Don't know, an' cannot say as I particularly care," Marius replied, an edge of heat creeping into his voice. "Strangely, his attempt to hollow out an' move into our sister did little to engender the fuzzy glow of fraternity." He leaned back in his chair. The look he fixed on his apple became poisonous. "If there's any kind of justice, the bad bit of dad's genes will have him with worries more intense than findin' the genetically compatible to move into."
Jennie sat back in her own chair, chewing on a thumbnail and considering her next words carefully. "Every family's got the one misfire. Thankfully, it seems that matters corrected themselves after your brother, as every one of your father's remaining kids seems to avoid the whole 'complete waste of blood' thing." She excised the small piece of nail and spat it off to the side. "You know, you still have my standing offer to drop a piano on him."
"A temptin' offer, but as Dr. Grey made it quite clear even a light maiming would be frowned upon I find I must decline your offer. That said, feel free to ask Monet, who has both preeminent claim and a distinct lack of commanding officers to which she must answer." Marius twitched the hair from his face and exhaled, calming a little. His eyes flicked to the oven. "Incidentally, on a less homicidal subject, what unholy concoction may we expect? Should I fetch a hammer?"
Jennie stuck her tongue out at him. "I can cook you know, all it is is following directions and bothering to check on what you are doing. Not all of us had the luxury of a master chef making us eggs before school," she said, but her tone of voice made it clear she was kidding. "If all has gone according to plan, we shall have puff pastry shells when the timer goes off, and then the hard decision will be on whether or not to use whipped cream or ice cream as filling."
Marius considered for a moment. "Which one offers the best odds of employin' Kyle as a test subject? Though perhaps you should save a few empty ones for Jan's personal use. Might be able to scare a few of the younger ones off sugar for life to bite into a pastry to find a classmate." Defaulting to jokes was a relief, but the earlier conversation still left a bad taste in his mouth. He couldn't exactly put his finger on why, considering he'd never had much to do with Shiro and whatever the older boy wanted to do with his life was no concern of his. Still, his mood was definitely beyond repair. Marius sighed and put his apple out of its misery.
"Ah, see, that is where you are wrong. You, my dear boy, are my test subject. Simply because I want to put to rest the delusion that I can't cook once and for all," Jennie said decisively. She sighed as well. Addicts of any kind were an uncomfortable subject for her. She herself had a small, nagging fear any time she drank about becoming addicted to it. "I needed to do something other than beat Shiro about the head and shoulders with a blunt object. I might just be a wee projecting."
Marius narrowed one of his eyes in a speculative way. "And I'm to eat the result of your suppressed rage."
"Of course!" she said brightly. "It's the burden of friendship. I go over your math homework, you submit to the occasional nail polish or cooking experiment. I save pain for the people who displease me."
"Right. Let's make a deal: I shall submit to whatever culinary experiment you please as long as you keep the evidence of your displeasure short of droppin' me with the Blackbird."
"Oh honey, I'd never drop the Blackbird on you. You have my word on that," Jennie said with a nod. "No, I shall stick with trees. I'm of a mind to start trying different types of tree. Next time, we'll see what happens when your skull meets oak," she grinned at him. "Now, how adventurous are we feeling? I'm thinking peppermint myself..."
The kitchen at Xavier's was often a general hub of activity, students coming and going, staff sneaking meals between classes. It was privy to quieter times, many late night snack, quick meals, or the occasional culinary disaster. The later of which seemed to be well in progress that particular day. The tall, dark-haired girl in the flowered apron frowned at the recipe book she had perched against a sugar jar, as if it was responsible for her irritation that afternoon. "With a wooden spoon? Ew?" Jennie muttered to herself, before rolling her eyes and returning to her conversation with her companion.
"So then he totally tries to deny it, even though he's continuing to dig himself even deeper. I mean, seriously, if you're caught, it's better to just freaking own up to it," she sighed and swiped at a piece of hair that hung in her eyes, leaving a long smear of white flour on her cheek. Oblivious, she resumed stirring the mixture of flour and butter in front of her.
"Not precisely the sort of thing one's about to declaim to the nearest passerby, is it."
Originally, Marius had positioned himself at the table in the hopes of being spared the fate of collateral damage in Jennie's war against basic cooking implements. Now it offered the additional benefit of positioning him where she couldn't catch the look on his face unless she turned around.
Jennie licked her thumb before adding eggs to the mixture. "Well, no, you're right about that," she conceded as she resumed stirring with a little more force than strictly necessary. "But at the same time, it's better if you own up to something when you're called on it. I mean, lying about it to someone's face is just going to make it worse." Jennie rolled her eyes. "But then there's my bias. Helloooo bias."
"Ah. Always a pleasure." The boy returned his attention to the apple in his hand, which had been reduced to little more than a forlorn accessory. He looked at it rather blankly. "It is perhaps understandable why one would express some reluctance at lapsin' into old habits. This is, after all, strike two."
"All the more reason to have it pounded into his head now," Jennie said vehemently, unaware of her friend's discomfort. "To keep it at strike two instead of, y'know, strike ten. And there shouldn't have been a strike two in the first place." She set the spoon down on the counter loudly and looked over her shoulder at Marius. "It sucks watching someone destroy themselves over and over again because they just can't let go of something."
"An' yet for all that it seems a common enough past time, as I'm sure my father would agree. In all likelihood a similar opinion precipitated the showin' of my half-brother the door. A pity that evidence indicates it seemed not to have any appreciable effect on his wholehearted pursuit to embrace the very bottom of the gutter." Marius' teeth punctured the appleskin with a vicious crunch. "It's enough to make one wonder at what point one might as well step back from the flaming wreckage an' watch the pretty lights. Why bother pickin' up a bloke who can't be bothered to stand?"
"I dunno," Jennie said, checking the mixture in front of her for proper texture and then spooning it on to the waiting greased pan, making sure the rows were neat and orderly. "I mean, sometimes you just can't let go. Because someone's family. Even when they pretty much don't deserve it. But, then again, my mother doesn't compare to your brother. What with the whole she was a decent human being in spite of it all and everything," she paused and snorted softly. "Not that I met the douchebag. But still."
She put the pan in the oven and leaned against the countertop, facing Marius. "I'm guessing I'm so pissed off is because I'm so disappointed. I know better that to take an addict's word, and yet I did it anyway. We all did. You keep wanting to think someone's better than what they are."
"That right?" Marius stared at the dessicated apple and snorted softly. "Perhaps the reasoning on the other side of the equation is similar," he muttered.
"True," sighed Jennie. "But sometimes some people are just rotten to begin with." She put the pan in the sink and added liquid soap and water to let it soak, setting the spoon on top, before joining Marius at the table. The girl still had patches of flour dusting her face and arms, but she was pointedly unbothered by it. Instead she propped her chin in her hands. "What happened to Mark 1 anyway? Please tell me it involves sharp objects wedged into soft, uncomfortable places."
"Don't know, an' cannot say as I particularly care," Marius replied, an edge of heat creeping into his voice. "Strangely, his attempt to hollow out an' move into our sister did little to engender the fuzzy glow of fraternity." He leaned back in his chair. The look he fixed on his apple became poisonous. "If there's any kind of justice, the bad bit of dad's genes will have him with worries more intense than findin' the genetically compatible to move into."
Jennie sat back in her own chair, chewing on a thumbnail and considering her next words carefully. "Every family's got the one misfire. Thankfully, it seems that matters corrected themselves after your brother, as every one of your father's remaining kids seems to avoid the whole 'complete waste of blood' thing." She excised the small piece of nail and spat it off to the side. "You know, you still have my standing offer to drop a piano on him."
"A temptin' offer, but as Dr. Grey made it quite clear even a light maiming would be frowned upon I find I must decline your offer. That said, feel free to ask Monet, who has both preeminent claim and a distinct lack of commanding officers to which she must answer." Marius twitched the hair from his face and exhaled, calming a little. His eyes flicked to the oven. "Incidentally, on a less homicidal subject, what unholy concoction may we expect? Should I fetch a hammer?"
Jennie stuck her tongue out at him. "I can cook you know, all it is is following directions and bothering to check on what you are doing. Not all of us had the luxury of a master chef making us eggs before school," she said, but her tone of voice made it clear she was kidding. "If all has gone according to plan, we shall have puff pastry shells when the timer goes off, and then the hard decision will be on whether or not to use whipped cream or ice cream as filling."
Marius considered for a moment. "Which one offers the best odds of employin' Kyle as a test subject? Though perhaps you should save a few empty ones for Jan's personal use. Might be able to scare a few of the younger ones off sugar for life to bite into a pastry to find a classmate." Defaulting to jokes was a relief, but the earlier conversation still left a bad taste in his mouth. He couldn't exactly put his finger on why, considering he'd never had much to do with Shiro and whatever the older boy wanted to do with his life was no concern of his. Still, his mood was definitely beyond repair. Marius sighed and put his apple out of its misery.
"Ah, see, that is where you are wrong. You, my dear boy, are my test subject. Simply because I want to put to rest the delusion that I can't cook once and for all," Jennie said decisively. She sighed as well. Addicts of any kind were an uncomfortable subject for her. She herself had a small, nagging fear any time she drank about becoming addicted to it. "I needed to do something other than beat Shiro about the head and shoulders with a blunt object. I might just be a wee projecting."
Marius narrowed one of his eyes in a speculative way. "And I'm to eat the result of your suppressed rage."
"Of course!" she said brightly. "It's the burden of friendship. I go over your math homework, you submit to the occasional nail polish or cooking experiment. I save pain for the people who displease me."
"Right. Let's make a deal: I shall submit to whatever culinary experiment you please as long as you keep the evidence of your displeasure short of droppin' me with the Blackbird."
"Oh honey, I'd never drop the Blackbird on you. You have my word on that," Jennie said with a nod. "No, I shall stick with trees. I'm of a mind to start trying different types of tree. Next time, we'll see what happens when your skull meets oak," she grinned at him. "Now, how adventurous are we feeling? I'm thinking peppermint myself..."
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