Rictor & Alani, Thursday morning
Nov. 16th, 2023 11:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsRictor and Alani try their hands at fried rice and talk a bit about life.
Alani had been happy to have help with cooking in the main kitchen, well, an extra set of hands while she squinted at the recipe she'd pulled up on her phone. Why did things always seem simple when they didn't specify that X, Y, and Z should have been happening this whole time? "Ugggh, okay, so, hm, we're gonna go off script. What's the worst that could happen?" So much. But the recipe lacked meat so that was a relief.
"And we don't have oyster sauce, fish sauce is probably fine, right?" She asked the teen.
Rictor nodded sagely. "Oyster is just like fish, so I'm certain a sauce made from oysters is similar to a sauce made from fish." He looked over the woman's shoulder to read the recipe and furrowed his brow. "What are we making, exactly?"
"So, it's just fried rice, but no meat, and with a Hawai'i twist, because, well, that's where I'm from. I heard you had some fun times in the kitchen, and while I'm not the best cook, it's a pretty nutritious 'quick' meal that I usually lean towards. And no meat, because I didn't know if you ate meat." She was not a master chef by any means, but usually the things she made were edible. Just not pretty. "If you want, I can teach you how to make Spam musubi one day."
"I do eat meat, but I should have some vegetarian options in my repertoire. In case I want to cook for someone who does not eat meat." The squad were all meat-eaters, but what if one of them changed their minds? Rictor had to be prepared. "Hawaiian. So will there be pineapple? That would go with fried rice, right? It's great on pizza."
“They’re very good to have, ya never know who you’re gonna meet. Ha, sorry, that, I meant that and,” Yes, let her over explain the accidental wordplay. But she noted that the boy would eat meat. Flashing a quick grin at the question, she shook her head. “Not usually, but I do really like pineapple, even in pizza so we could add it if you wanted. I’ve just planned carrots, onion, and peas, to hit the easy nutrients. My power means I need to eat a fair to make it work without any terrible backlash.”
"What does that mean?" he asked, looking for a big sharp knife so he could start slicing the onion. His kitchen knife skills, at least, were unmatched. "Do your powers make you fart if you don't eat the right things?"
A peal of laughter slipped out before Alani relied herself back in, clearing her throat before shaking her head. "God, I wish! No, both my powers make me puke if I don’t follow the rules I’ve found with them. I’m human chainsaw who can live underwater, but not having enough calories to power the motor so to speak can mess me up. Lightheartedness, exhaustion, and the vomiting. World’s worst flu but I did it to myself.”
"Huh. I got really sick some years ago when a big earthquake hit Mexico," Rictor recalled, setting aside the onion and moving onto the carrots. "I was on holiday with my parents and was stuck in the hotel bed for a whole day. I think that must have been when my powers first, uh, what's the word? When they first woke up?"
“Manifested,” she offered, watching him with interest. Well, his hands. She wasn’t brave enough to talk and slice. "It probably was, though I'm not a doctor or anything and won't sully that noble profession. And since you've had a pretty good grasp?" A smile had started as she finally looked back up to his eyes, always happy to find out how those younger than her had had it.
"Eh. The mansion is still standing," he joked lamely. "I have not had any problems with control, except once or twice." When Shatterstar inadvertently got under his skin and set him off, but Rictor did not want to be a child and blame anyone else for his own failures. "Kane has been helping me in the Danger Room. We are still trying to understand what I can do. So far, it seems to be that I can stamp my foot and make earthquakes."
"That's good!" Alani beamed, and she did laugh at his joke. She would have clapped him on the back, but, well, kitchen safety. "Once or twice is amazing, Rictor, and you're still learning. I cannot say the same for myself, so, really, you should feel proud of yourself. With Kane working with you, I’m sure you’ll get a lot of good feedback.”
"It's weird, because I always thought I had more . . . capabilities. But so far, just earthquakes." He shrugged and set aside his mystical disappointment to focus on the mundane task immediately ahead of him. "What do we do next?"
“To be honest, it’s entirely possible that you can do more. After learning you’re a mutant, you tend to learn more about what that itself entails. I thought I could only pass through and disassemble matter, but I have an underwater mutation. As long as I’m submerged, I can live there, indefinitely really.” And worrying that she was over explaining, she lapsed to look back at the recipe. “Sautéing everything together. General rule of thumb is to start with the harder vegetables — carrots then potatoes, though they’re not in this recipe, then go down to softest — so we will go carrots, peas, onions and pineapple. Rice, we’re using leftovers, and that’s already spread out on that cookie sheet over there. Feel comfortable sautéing?”
"Uh." He could not forget his first venture with the frying pan, when he'd somehow nearly metamorphosed onions and garlic into charcoal and broiled tomatoes until they were Super Mario–style fireballs. He had improved since, in the sense that he had yet to set off any fire alarms. "Okay, I can do that," he lied, and went to dump the carrots into the pan before turning on the heat or adding any oil.
"Awesome!" This seemed perfectly correct to Alani, whose own culinary skills contained more than a handful of mistakes each time, but always edible. Mostly edible. She did make sure the vent was turned on, though, from experience. Upon looking at the recipe again, she grabbed the vegetable oil, holding it up. "Wait, forgot this. It says two tablespoons, so I usually just count slowly to two and that should be fine."
"Uh, if I can be nosy, how are you doing here? Are you taking classes or taking a break? Anything you need help with?"
A two count gave the veg a good quarter inch of cold oil to swim in, but it would surely be fine. Rictor was not worried because Alani clearly knew what she was doing. The more difficult task was answering her question. "I haven't decided what to do. I completed one year of university because my parents insisted and it was fine, but . . . I want to succeed my grandparents in their home village, and I don't need a degree for that. Once I master my power, I think I'll go home." He said the last part slowly, quietly, without any hint of excitement. "Maybe," he amended.
Again Alani nodded firmly in understanding. This all seemed perfectly clear to her despite not knowing the boy's situation. "Well, luckily you have time, there's room to learn what you want to do or try entirely new things. That's the nice thing about being here. And not paying rent. So whatever you want to do, you can, and there are a number of people who're around to help you."
Alani had been happy to have help with cooking in the main kitchen, well, an extra set of hands while she squinted at the recipe she'd pulled up on her phone. Why did things always seem simple when they didn't specify that X, Y, and Z should have been happening this whole time? "Ugggh, okay, so, hm, we're gonna go off script. What's the worst that could happen?" So much. But the recipe lacked meat so that was a relief.
"And we don't have oyster sauce, fish sauce is probably fine, right?" She asked the teen.
Rictor nodded sagely. "Oyster is just like fish, so I'm certain a sauce made from oysters is similar to a sauce made from fish." He looked over the woman's shoulder to read the recipe and furrowed his brow. "What are we making, exactly?"
"So, it's just fried rice, but no meat, and with a Hawai'i twist, because, well, that's where I'm from. I heard you had some fun times in the kitchen, and while I'm not the best cook, it's a pretty nutritious 'quick' meal that I usually lean towards. And no meat, because I didn't know if you ate meat." She was not a master chef by any means, but usually the things she made were edible. Just not pretty. "If you want, I can teach you how to make Spam musubi one day."
"I do eat meat, but I should have some vegetarian options in my repertoire. In case I want to cook for someone who does not eat meat." The squad were all meat-eaters, but what if one of them changed their minds? Rictor had to be prepared. "Hawaiian. So will there be pineapple? That would go with fried rice, right? It's great on pizza."
“They’re very good to have, ya never know who you’re gonna meet. Ha, sorry, that, I meant that and,” Yes, let her over explain the accidental wordplay. But she noted that the boy would eat meat. Flashing a quick grin at the question, she shook her head. “Not usually, but I do really like pineapple, even in pizza so we could add it if you wanted. I’ve just planned carrots, onion, and peas, to hit the easy nutrients. My power means I need to eat a fair to make it work without any terrible backlash.”
"What does that mean?" he asked, looking for a big sharp knife so he could start slicing the onion. His kitchen knife skills, at least, were unmatched. "Do your powers make you fart if you don't eat the right things?"
A peal of laughter slipped out before Alani relied herself back in, clearing her throat before shaking her head. "God, I wish! No, both my powers make me puke if I don’t follow the rules I’ve found with them. I’m human chainsaw who can live underwater, but not having enough calories to power the motor so to speak can mess me up. Lightheartedness, exhaustion, and the vomiting. World’s worst flu but I did it to myself.”
"Huh. I got really sick some years ago when a big earthquake hit Mexico," Rictor recalled, setting aside the onion and moving onto the carrots. "I was on holiday with my parents and was stuck in the hotel bed for a whole day. I think that must have been when my powers first, uh, what's the word? When they first woke up?"
“Manifested,” she offered, watching him with interest. Well, his hands. She wasn’t brave enough to talk and slice. "It probably was, though I'm not a doctor or anything and won't sully that noble profession. And since you've had a pretty good grasp?" A smile had started as she finally looked back up to his eyes, always happy to find out how those younger than her had had it.
"Eh. The mansion is still standing," he joked lamely. "I have not had any problems with control, except once or twice." When Shatterstar inadvertently got under his skin and set him off, but Rictor did not want to be a child and blame anyone else for his own failures. "Kane has been helping me in the Danger Room. We are still trying to understand what I can do. So far, it seems to be that I can stamp my foot and make earthquakes."
"That's good!" Alani beamed, and she did laugh at his joke. She would have clapped him on the back, but, well, kitchen safety. "Once or twice is amazing, Rictor, and you're still learning. I cannot say the same for myself, so, really, you should feel proud of yourself. With Kane working with you, I’m sure you’ll get a lot of good feedback.”
"It's weird, because I always thought I had more . . . capabilities. But so far, just earthquakes." He shrugged and set aside his mystical disappointment to focus on the mundane task immediately ahead of him. "What do we do next?"
“To be honest, it’s entirely possible that you can do more. After learning you’re a mutant, you tend to learn more about what that itself entails. I thought I could only pass through and disassemble matter, but I have an underwater mutation. As long as I’m submerged, I can live there, indefinitely really.” And worrying that she was over explaining, she lapsed to look back at the recipe. “Sautéing everything together. General rule of thumb is to start with the harder vegetables — carrots then potatoes, though they’re not in this recipe, then go down to softest — so we will go carrots, peas, onions and pineapple. Rice, we’re using leftovers, and that’s already spread out on that cookie sheet over there. Feel comfortable sautéing?”
"Uh." He could not forget his first venture with the frying pan, when he'd somehow nearly metamorphosed onions and garlic into charcoal and broiled tomatoes until they were Super Mario–style fireballs. He had improved since, in the sense that he had yet to set off any fire alarms. "Okay, I can do that," he lied, and went to dump the carrots into the pan before turning on the heat or adding any oil.
"Awesome!" This seemed perfectly correct to Alani, whose own culinary skills contained more than a handful of mistakes each time, but always edible. Mostly edible. She did make sure the vent was turned on, though, from experience. Upon looking at the recipe again, she grabbed the vegetable oil, holding it up. "Wait, forgot this. It says two tablespoons, so I usually just count slowly to two and that should be fine."
"Uh, if I can be nosy, how are you doing here? Are you taking classes or taking a break? Anything you need help with?"
A two count gave the veg a good quarter inch of cold oil to swim in, but it would surely be fine. Rictor was not worried because Alani clearly knew what she was doing. The more difficult task was answering her question. "I haven't decided what to do. I completed one year of university because my parents insisted and it was fine, but . . . I want to succeed my grandparents in their home village, and I don't need a degree for that. Once I master my power, I think I'll go home." He said the last part slowly, quietly, without any hint of excitement. "Maybe," he amended.
Again Alani nodded firmly in understanding. This all seemed perfectly clear to her despite not knowing the boy's situation. "Well, luckily you have time, there's room to learn what you want to do or try entirely new things. That's the nice thing about being here. And not paying rent. So whatever you want to do, you can, and there are a number of people who're around to help you."
