Log: Cammie & Jean-Paul (Slightly backdated to Jan 31st)

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Slightly backdated to early evening. Discussion of Cammie's taste in drinks leads to discussion of her taste in food as well.

The household chemicals had been locked up, but Dr. Grey was nice enough to have given Cammie a key. A good thing too, because when everything else pretty much tasted like water. It had been... almost five years since she could actually taste anything normal.

Right now, she was making herself a little something to hold until she could get her own little supply of things she liked to drink.

Which would not include Pine-sol. Fuck Pine-sol. It was nasty.

Though the drink she was mixing would kill any normal person almost instantly. She may have sucked at science back in the day at school, but she now had a small handle on chemistry and knew just how to mix her drinks. This concoction had drain cleaner, bleach and a healthy dose of vinegar in it.

To her, it smelled pretty good. And would taste better. To anyone else? That would be a different story, she was sure.

"Dieu!" The exclamation heralded the appearance of a dark-haired man with slightly pointed ears and intense blue eyes. "Are we fumigating...oh." He glanced at Cammie, then at the bottles on the table, then back at Cammie. "Mademoiselle Cammie, I presume?" There, see? It didn't kill him to refer to the other residents by their first names.

"Yep, this'll clear out your sinuses, that's for sure," she said, actually not overly startled by his appearance. A good thing too, she would've been ticked off if she had to start remixing a drink because she spilled it, "And that's me. You're that Jean-Paul... I couldn't pronounce your last name if I tried," Cammie admitted. French was not her strong suit. When it came to other languages, she spoke a little bit of Spanish. But only the phrases 'Don't touch me' and 'Leave me alone.'

"I'd offer to mix you a drink, but I'm not too keen on the idea of being charged with murder." Wow, those were pointy ears.

"Beaubier," he volunteered. He had been considering a snack, but the chemical reek in the air killed the notion. "I appreciate the consideration, but if I decide to die by ingesting anything, I would prefer it be hemlock. The classics are still the best, non?" He watched her finish off the mix with faint distaste and obvious curiosity. "Do you prefer this to more usual foods?"

She had started drinking it when he talked about the hemlock. Hemlock was okay, nothing quite like a salad with a little bit of actual zing to it. Or had that been poison ivy that one time? Oh well, she wasn't a botanist. She didn't know these things. The drink tasted good, to her at least. She might as well get her fill on this stuff before Dr. Grey decided to start one of those controlled diets she had brought up.

"Huh?" she said, looking up from the glass, "Oh, yeah. Normal food... doesn't taste like anything, really. I mean, I can eat it. But why bother?"

"Even if you can handle the toxins, I'm not sure how much nutritional value a more...varied diet has, for one thing. But I did not know you could not taste more basic foods at all. That is..." Tragic. "...unexpected. But what about alcohol, for example? Does that register?"

"Actually... I've managed to live off stuff that could kill people, so I think I work a little bit differently. And... I can kinda taste alcohol," she said, raising an eyebrow. "But it doesn't really do anything for me. I don't get drunk."

A party before she had left home had shown her that. Though it was sort of funny being stone cold sober while everyone else around you got blasted.

The older mutant half-smiled at the look his question had earned him.

"I am not propositioning you. I find myself indulging in quite a lot of kitchen therapy these days, so when I meet someone with tastes so far outside my experience..." He shrugged a bit. "I get curious. Feel free to tell me to stuff it if I am being too nosy."

"Nah, it's not the weirdest question I ever got so it's cool," Cammie said, drinking some more of her drink, it tasted very good to her. "Just saying, I don't get drunk, so what little I can taste isn't really worth it, if that makes any sense."

Jean-Paul nodded. "A bit pricey for something would be...what?" He took another look at the bottles, considering. "Flat soda pop in terms of flavor? At best?"

"I guess that's a good way to describe it. Though the stronger the booze the more taste it does have. I like rubbing alcohol or nail polish remover personally," Cammie said with a smirk. Mmm, nail polish remover. Now that had some tang to it.

Jean-Paul laughed at her self-possessed expression. Cammie gave off a vibe of being utterly comfortable in her own skin, at least where this subject was concerned. "Turpentine margarita with lye dusting the glass rim?" he suggested.

"I'd drink it. Turpentine is kinda bitter, but it's still better than some of the stuff out there. Pine-sol, for example, leaves such an awful aftertaste," she loved talking about things she could eat. If only because people either rolled with it, or got totally grossed out. Either reaction was okay with her.

"So what about foods, then? Is it just flavor, or are there other factors? Texture, for example. I'm trying to get an idea of a full menu."

Cammie thought about that, "Well.. if I dump Tabasco on something it's okay... I can taste really spicy things, and I get texture...but most food taste like nothing," she said with a shrug, "Oh, I can taste bologna, just so you know. The world should be concerned about that." Cammie was. Only the horrible food gods knew what it was that went into bologna. "And, you know, if something is growing fuzz or has turned green, then it's good."

The speedster nodded, obviously intrigued. Kitchen therapy had just gotten a lot more interesting.