-
As the boy spilled his bag's contents onto the table, John realized that he hadn't stolen anything from him, and more than that, that the boy was not quite human, or elven for that matter.
He briefly wondered how he had come to sit across from this youth, wondering what to say. The odds and ends were interesting, if only because of the boy that carried them, and he reached out a massive, scarred arm to reach one of the folded papers the boy had in his possession.
Though, it seemed that the paper would have to wait, since their impromptu meeting was about to be interrupted by a much more scheduled one.
-
Blue light filled the room with a massive flash, blinding both people who had been sitting down. When the light subsided, a tall, slender man was standing at the doorway. In one hand he held a comically large brown bottle. On its label was a crudely drawn flame, and under it the words "Test three" were inscribed. Blinking for a moment, Vincent Cain eyed the young boy and the massive giant before speaking.
"I didn't know you were having under-aged guests..." The scholar raised an eyebrow before banishing the bottle in his left hand into a cloud of sparks. "I would not have brought my new invention had I known that..." The scholar chuckled and opened his arms wide, locking eyes with the young man. "But where are my manners? My name is Vincent Cain! Whats yours?"
-
Fenn jerked as the room filled with light, flinging up his hands in order to cover his face. In the process, he nearly fell off his chair. It took half a minute of shaking his head and viciously rubbing at his eyes before he could properly see again. Annoyance flickered across his face as he stared up at the tall dude who had startled him so. How rude! He’d have a few choice words for this Vincent guy if he could speak.
Instead Fenn relaxed and stood on his chair, momentarily ignoring Vincent in order to look around and make sure that the disturbance hadn’t knocked any of his hoard away. Buttons, still there, shells, still intact… Good. Satisfied that it was all there, he decided to introduce himself. He hadn’t had the opportunity to tell anyone his name yet! Fenn waved his arms to make sure both men were looking at him and leaned over to place his hands on the table. Spirals of silvery frost spread outward from his touch. He dragged his fingers through the crystals, roughly spelling out; FENNIK.
Hrmm. Fenn scratched his chin, thinking. With a cheeky smile, he added;
NICE TO MEET YOU, JACKASS! WHAT WAS BOTTLE?
OH, AND OTHER MAN PLEASE TELL NAME TOO.
-
The brilliant flash nearly blinded him, and he silently cursed Vincent's constant need for a dramatic entrance. As the bottle disappeared and Vincent turned his attention to the child, though, John realized what the boy was.
They had tales, legends of boys who went too far into the icy wastes of Salvar and died, their spirits doomed to roam the frigid land, eternally searching for home. As if to punctuate his thought, the boy planted a hand on the table, icy tendrils spilling from it, frosting the wood.
He's an ice-child, He thought, remembering the tales old women spun of ghostly boys luring their young ones out to play in the snow, where they never returned.
For a split second, John assumed the worst, and his armor crept up his chest in tendrils much like the boy's, but he halted the metal's ascent as he read the words. Still suspicious, but willing to allow him to speak (such as his icy communication was), John willed his armor to cover his chest, each little part creeping up like quicksilver and hardening with a click.
He furrowed his brow, offering his name carefully.
"I am John"
-
Vincent raised an eyebrow at being called an asshole and turned a glance to John. Seeing as he was introducing himself, this child wasn't some black sheep family member, or bastard child John had sired running around pretending to be a yeti. Shrugging, he simply sat down at the table and drummed his fingers for a moment, pondering the situation before he spoke once more.
"That bottle was liquid fire, and not meant for young men like you." He snipped dismissing the young man. "But I digress! Have you eaten yet John? Should I cook up some tasty Burg's?"
-
John. Fennik nodded and slip back down into his chair, wiping his own frosty message off the tabletop and shoving his hoard back into the bag. Except for the paper John had picked up, of course. His eyes snuck a suspicious look at the man’s chest; he thought he had seen a creeping gleam of metal, and heard some soft clicks. There was suddenly a chestplate there. He had sworn that John had been barechested before. Yet another thing to puzzle over, with a confused glance and a quiet gesture of his head.
It made him anxious, if he were to be honest with himself. Armor was analogous to weapons, and weapons meant aggression. Aggression meant he made a mistake. Fenn suppressed a nervous quiver and hunkered down in his seat, turning his attention back to Vincent as he spoke.
Liquid fire? A wry smile came to Fenn's lips. That sounded like some crazy alcohol. It wasn't as if he hadn’t sparingly stolen a drink of such things in the past, just to see what it was like. He shrugged off the dismissal and perked up a little at the mention of food, giving Vincent a pointed and enthusiastic nod. Another meal sounded like an excellent idea, as far as he was concerned.
-
John stood, and the armor receded, melting off his body as he walked away to grab a fresh shirt. Though the boy might have hampered their plans for an uninterrupted meeting, he hardly could blame him. Wasn't every day a street urchin stumbled on a generous person these days. He returned, and the boy was already looking up at Vincent expectantly, hoping, John thought, for another bit of food. He spoke to Vincent.
"It would appear you're cooking for more than two tonight, Vincent."
He sank down in his chair again, looking at the child, who left the small bit of folded paper still on the table.
-
Without further prompting, Vincent went about his work. John didn’t have nearly as sophisticated a kitchen as the House of Cards did, so the scholar found himself having to make do with what the giant happened to have, even if that mean cooking over a wood burning stove with one pan and one knife.
“Remind me to upgrade your kitchen John,” Vince grunted through gritted teeth as he manually ground up some beef by chopping it up with a knife and then tearing it apart by hand. It was more…pulled beef, but if would make do. Soon the scholar was sprinkling a pinch of flour into his mound of meat, pulling it apart and patting each clump into thick patties soon afterward. Once he had ten or so patties ready he reached into seemly nowhere and pulled out a jar of spice, flicking the seasoning onto the meat with a well-practiced flourish. He set the frying pan over the heat and then suddenly blinked out of existence for a moment, returning with a tray of fluffy bread buns.
“Thank god I had been preparing these…” The scholar quipped giving John a wink. The actual cooking of the burgers took next to no time at all, and soon the scholar was joining the trio at the table, setting a steaming plate of meat in front of them with one hand, and a plate of sliced buns down on the other. Once seated, the scholar produced two bottles with a flourish, one filled with a red sauce, and the other with a yellow sauce.
“Earthen tradition, can’t have burgers without ketchup or mustard.”
-
What the- did that armor just melt off of John? Wow, that was something Fenn was going to need to inquire further about! But first, there were other matters to attend to.
As Vincent worked his cooking magic, Fenn yawned and glanced down at the piece of paper he had missed putting back in his bag. He frowned at it and wondered if he should do that - was it something incriminating? Probably not, since it didn’t look like one of the few wanted posters he’d kept from his old days. He couldn’t really remember what was on that particular scrap, but if he kept it, it was probably something important to him. Eh, he’d pick it up later.
Right now, there was food. Mmmmm, foooood. His mouth watered as Vincent brought it to the table.
Fenn puzzled over the plate of bread, the plate of meat, and the two funny-looking bottles. Condiments weren’t normally such bright colors, or at least not in his experience. The Fae reached forward and poked at the mustard bottle suspiciously. It was worth trying, he supposed. Following the commands of his ever-hungering stomach, he grabbed several buns and set them on the side of his plate after taking a nibble of them. Wow, this bread was damn plain by itself. It needed some butter or something, but he didn’t see any on the table. He snorted and looked at them skeptically. Who taught Vincent to cook?
The unnervingly circular hunks of meat, the “burgers” he supposed, looked good at least, so he picked up a few of those too and set them by the buns. He took the condiment bottles and popped off the funny-shaped caps so he could pour a little of each on the plate.
The little puddles of yellow and red looked so out of place on his plate, like dollops of paint! Was it even edible? His bright green gaze bored curiously into Vincent. Well, if burgers had to have it...
Fenn shrugged, smushed the burgers into the condiments, and and started gnawing on it without a bun. Unlike the buns, it wasn’t half bad, weird condiments and all. He beamed lopsidedly and gave Vincent a thumbs-up, signaling his approval.
-
John snatched two of the 'patties' and pushed a wedge of cheese between them, and set about preparing the 'burgz'. He grabbed a pair of buns, lathering one with the yellow sauce, and one with the red. He put them on either side of the burger, and bit down.
Multiple flavors assaulted his mouth as he chewed, every clench of his jaw dislodgning a bit of spice here, a morsel of cheese there, sometimes tasting one of the tangy sauces. He nodded slowly, staring at the thing.
He looked to the side, fighting the urge to chuckle as he saw Fennik eat.
Apparently he didn't understand that earth foods required a bit of assembly before they were eaten.
At least this one didn't fall apart when he bit into it.
All too soon, though, John's burger was no more, and he was sad for a moment before realizing that Vincent had finally gotten the hint that the half-giant's appetite was as big as he was, and began preparing food to match.
He assembled another burger, but this time set an extra set of buns above the fire to toast them for his third round.
"This is good, Vincent," he said in between bites. "Certainly better than those 'nuggets' we had last week."