Difference between revisions of "Logs:Smaller Pickles are Better"

A'rist is cross-legged on the bench at the table he's chosen (not Iceberg's, just a random table, near the hearth, where the boots he's not wearing, the boots with the muddy soles that he's propped up so the soles can catch some warmth, have at least some hope of drying out a little bit. On his plate is a hobby-kit of a lunch, pickles that he's finely chopping, some meaty bits that he's saved from an otherwise empty bowl of stew, and a split bun, open, waiting. Yup. It sure is lunch in the caverns all right.

Minara has only just sat down, a plate balanced on one outstretched palm, while her other hand is held in an odd pose, the elbow pinning some rolled parchments in place, squishing them a little bit in the process. She slides the plate safely onto the table, then gives A'rist a nod of greeting before she seats herself. Then, with the parchments safely tucked between her knees, she starts digging for something in her trouser pocket, finally revealing it to be a tiny roll of bandaging. And why? A small, ragged cut on her forefinger, hence the odd pose. "Hidework is dangerous," she offers as a genial explanation, should anyone actually care. Soon enough, the bandage is in place, and she begins to work on her lunch, though just a bite into it she asks, "Was the stew good? It was tempting." Super tiny small talk.

Lycinea isn't on duty. There's no apron, there's no foodly evidence on her face, hands, or hair that she's seen the kitchen lately. In point of fact, she's cleaned up and wearing a (for-once) matching set of work clothes, though her pulled back hair shows damp spots, evidence of recent excursions outdoors where the flurries are falling (and melting). Her perusal of the lunch offerings is quicker than most, but then, she's familiar enough with just about everything in the Weyr's culinary repertoire to know what to take extra of and what to avoid. That hearth, on a day when there's snow, is awfully attractive, so it's probably no wonder that the blonde is claiming a seat next to Minara, glancing toward the two brunettes before she's wrinkling her nose at the woman's words and stuffing a roll into her mouth.

A'rist's mincing of pickles stops not when Minara sits down (that just gets her a mostly-distracted nod of 'oh look a person), but when those bandages come out. His knife stops, forewarned. "Guess so," comes first, the crooked smile a bit of a reaction, once he realises how it just might sound. "Not bad. Tubery." His knife starts up again. Lycinea receives another one of those 'look a person' nods. Thankfully, there's only a short ways to go through the rest of that pickle. And then he's looking up again, to the bandaged girl. "Scraping?"

"Nah, just a tough side of parchment," Minara answers, unconcerned, though she does rub at the now bandaged spot as she nods to Lycinea in greeting. She watches A'rist and his mincing for a moment. "Didn't want to just stick the whole thing in your mouth or something?" she hazards, though there is a teasing glint to her blue eyes, even if she manages to keep a grin in check.

Lycinea looks truly riveted by the small talk. That must be why, after letting her eyes follow the thread of the conversation between Minara and A'rist, she murmurs something so helpfully illuminative as, "At least the pickles are safe." See? There are some on her plate too. There is not, however, any stew. The look she gives A'rist's once-stew is skeptical at best. Without explaining more, she looks to Minara. "Do you do a lot of hidework?" Lalala, nothing happened.

"That's gotta sting." The pickle comment has A'rist looking from Minara, to Lycinea, and back again. The knife moves on, to the bits of meat on his plate. Chop chop chop. "Well, so long as you don't stick the whole thing in your mouth." Chop.

Minara narrows her eyes as she glances from Lycinea to A'rist, then back again. "Safe?" she questions, mildly curious, though she goes right on with her sandwich a moment later. In answer to the kitchen aide's question, Min shrugs a little, then nods to avoid speaking with a mouthful a food. When that's been washed down by water, though, she answers more accurately, "I've been working with the clerks a lot lately. Kind of like an... assistant's assistant, I guess. A lot of busywork, but it makes the hours fly. Feels nice to be useful."

"Yeah, well they're brined and sealed up and sent up in the tithes, right? So, you know, the cooks here don't have a chance to do anything to them." Lycinea's tone is as casual as if she were talking about the weather. "Sandwiches are probably safe too," she allows, giving Minara an encouraging sort of smile. "The clerks." She repeats, "That sounds... really, really boring, actually." She purses her lips and then looks to A'rist, "Can I borrow your knife, please?" Maybe she needs to mince her own pickles.

A'rist peers across the table to the bandaged girl. "So you like that? Shells. Give me flying or running or even shovelling over hidework. Any day." His chopping, already slowed, slows to the point of there being no foreseeable follow-up chop, at least until such a point as he's asked (and received an answer to): "... Why?" Lycinea gets a more careful lookover. The trust, it is lacking. Also, his stew is not yet as demolished as his pickles.

Minara is about to take another bite when Lycinea mentions the phrase "to them", causing Min to set the sandwich down again, despite the girl's assurances. "Do I even want to know what's been going on in the kitchens?" she asks, giving the kitchen worker and then A'rist a narrow-eyed frown. "And to each their own, right? It's one of the few things I knew I could do here, so..." She trails off, then shrugs. "Seemed an obvious choice. I'd be completely lost in the kitchens. Which," she adds, squinting at Lycinea, "sounds like it might be a good thing."

"No reason, nevermind." Lya pips to the bronzerider without anything more than a slight roll of her shoulders. Whatever it was, evidently she'll make do. She shifts her fingers to her raw fingerroots and begins snapping them into smaller pieces. Maybe that was it. "I don't know," the blonde answers Minara's question and comment about the kitchen with the same phrase. "I mean, I'm just about the least competent person there is who isn't a drudge and they let me work there, so I'm sure you'd fare better." Her smile is bright enough for the older woman. "Did you come recently then?"

"Just gotta finish this." And he's back to work with the meat, as if to prove the simplicity of his response. And honesty of it, too. "I'm with..." lack of a name puts a wrinkle in his nose for a second, and A'rist settles on as gentle a, "her," as he can, indicating Minara with a little nod. "Stuff we don't need to hear about our food preparers." Now, trying to pull apart and saw, all while using his fingers to push the pickle-bits in the mess of meat.

This time, Minara's frown is a little different as she directs it more pointedly at Lycinea. "If you don't know, why imply that the food might not be safe?" she asks, either intensely curious or accusatory, the tone could be either. "Seems a bit of a tease, and not even in a good way." She punctuates it with an emphatic bite of her sandwich before returning her attention to A'rist. She nods once, then gestures with what little is left of her hopefully untainted food. "It's hard enough finding time to eat at all, some days. I'd rather not have to think about it too much."

"Oh, oh, no," Lya blinks at Minara, "I meant I didn't know if you wanted to know. We've only just met." See? She's not making assumptions. "Sorry!" That's bright but seemingly genuine. To A'rist, "Well, the stew is hardly the worst of it, but I won't tell you then." The things he doesn't want to know. She focuses on her food then, beginning to put it away like she has somewhere to be after all.

A'rist has successfully combined the meat and pickles into some semblance of a 'salad'. The knife is put down. And he starts scooping his creation into the centre of his bun. It's busy work. It lets him keep his head down, with dark eyes free to flit from one of the girls to the other. "Yeah, some things, better off not knowing." The sandwich gets squished together. Taadaa. Chomp.

Minara finishes off her sandwich while watching A'rist create his own, then finishes off her water before grinning crookedly at Lycinea. For a moment, she looks as if she might comment, but then she just gets to her feet and nods to the other two. "Enjoy your meals," she says, sounding amused as she tucks her rolls of dangerous parchment under her elbow again, then picks up her plate and cup. "I'd better get back to my numbers. They get lonely otherwise." She goes about adding her dishes to a collection of others needing cleaning, then disappears in the eventual direction of the stores.

"Yeah," Lya agrees with A'rist readily. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to know what they said about me in there, either," she advises distractedly, her focus largely directed to watching Minara go. Then abruptly she, too, is rising and moving toward the inner caverns without so much as a 'see you round.'

A'rist just snorts. And eats his sandwich.