2010-07-30: A Sweet Gesture


Alvin_icon.jpg Hilde_icon.jpg

Summary: Hildegarde meets Alvin in the kitchen. Concerned about his weight, she gives him several cookies.

Log Title: A Sweet Gesture

Rating: G

Xavier Mansion - Kitchen

This kitchen was designed to feed large numbers of people, and looks it with its bright white walls and stainless steel appliances. The stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher are all larger than normal. There is an island with stools around it for people to sit and eat around along with a table for twelve by the windows in back. Along the wall is a hole in the wall looking into the dining room so food can be passed back and fourth. Anything you want to cook or eat in the kitchen you will find the food and supplies to do so.


The lower level of the mansion is filled with a delicious odor. Anyone who follows the smell will discover that it seems to originate in the kitchen. The counters in this room are covered in cookies of several varieties laying out to cool. A woman can be seen standing at the sink washing dishes and singing something that sounds German.

Hildegarde sits a plate in the dish rack and steps back for a moment to open the oven and glance inside. She narrows her eyes for a moment and adjusts the temperature before closing the door again. As the woman returns to the sink her boots ring out with a loud metallic sound, almost as though she is wearing very heavy iron footwear. She is currently wearing a blue skirt with a white top. She has a brown apron overtop and her hair is tied up in a double-bun.

Quiet but not fast, a new arrival saunters his way into the kitchen. He isn't here due to the smell— Alvin's senses in general are not particularly awesome by any means. However, like many people Alvin can get hungry regardless of picking up on extremely yummy smells or not. He's dressed simply, a long zipped up red hoodie, jeans, black cap. Alvin himself is alarming to look at, though; skinny to the point of skeletal, very dark heavy circles under and around his eyes, and a large variety of healing cuts, and some extreme dark purple and yellowed bruises from forehead down along cheek, and some on his neck. Frankly, he looks like he has some pretty horrible disease, more than that someone beat him up. He investigates the counters, stopping in front of a large patch of them, leaned over them. No doubt to share his germs, of course.

Hildegarde continues to sing loudly in German and turns off the water, drying her hands on a towel. She turns back to the counter and stops singing suddenly, which may be a blessing for the new arrival since her singing voice is less than amazing. She lets out a small gasp and looks slightly embarrassed for a moment before clearing her throat. "Um, hey there. I didn't see you come in. Sorry if I scared you with my horrible screeching." She waves a hand dismissively. Her accent sounds British, but that song may lead one to believe that she is perhaps not from England.

She tips her head for a moment and walks past the boy, clanking loudly as she does so. She opens the oven and nods, putting on a pair of oven mitts and pulling out a large chocolate cake. She sits it on the oven and shuts off the oven. "Sorry about that. I'm Hildegarde, just moved here not too long ago. I do not believe we have met." She gets a good look at Alvin and frowns, realizing how thin and beat up he looks. She waves a hand at the cookies. "Go ahead, eat. Eat something. You're as skinny as a rail."

"It's okay," Alvin says very simply, monotone, to her comment about her singing. He has a very apathetic, distant tone and expression — but she probably will feel less embarrassed, mostly since it clearly made little difference to him how she sounded. Most people tend to think he's just tired, though that isn't entirely accurate. He looks at Hilde slowly, with a ploddingly slow movement of eyes, head inclined just a little. His eyes move more than his head does, as if the effort didn't interest him… but ends up looking creepy, particularly with the dark circles. "Is it somebody's birthday, or for a party?" Alvin asks. He leaves his hands buried in his hoodie's pockets, he hasn't touched anything, he's just looked, the way you'd look at delicate art on display. No touchie. "Alvin Bell," Alvin supplies, of himself. "I don't really… eat often. But thanks," Alvin says, evenly.

Hildegarde continues to frown slightly before turning back around to hang up her oven mitts. "Nice to meet you Alvin. My full name is Hildegarde VonReginleif. I will be teaching History and German when the school year begins again." If Alvin pays attention to random news stories, he might recognize that name from a few months back. Hilde wrote a few books about Mutants and one of them caused a bit of an issue on the news. She moves back to the counter with the cookies and turning them slightly to keep them from sticking. "Why do you not eat? Food is too good to go without." She motions to the cookies, some that look chocolate but smell like mint, "Try one, they're good…Unless you're allergic to chocolate…Or nuts."

"….I'll try to remember that," Alvin says, doubting that he'll be able to remember all of that long name— hopefully if he gets her as a teacher, he'll have it by then, though! "I've only been here.. maybe a week or so," Alvin admits. He gets out of her way, although… kind of slowly, shuffle-prone with his feet, watching her move about her busy work. "I took an anti-nausea medication, I'll eat in a little while," Alvin says, apathy taken over by a kind of embarrassed defensiveness. "I didn't say I didn't /like/ to eat," Alvin adds, more quickly.

Hilde continues to turn the cookies and tilts her head once she finished. She waves a hand dismissively, "Oh you can just call me Hilde for now. I'll figure something easier out for when the classes start." She frowns and looks at the boy again, "Anti-Nausea? Perhaps you have eaten something bad…" She ponders for a moment. "Oatmeal. Also mint. They tend to settle people's stomachs. Also ginger but I have made no ginger cookies." She points out the appropriate species of cookie for the boy. "Why do you not eat often? Perhaps it is the not so good food here. If you have a favorite food I could try to cook it for you."

A low, slow, moderated sigh, to steady himself, is released by Alvin. Just a sort of…. frustration, or dismay, around having to go through an uncomfortable explanation. "I'm always nauseated, it's just the way it is. So I don't eat a lot. Taking some stuff can help. Just need a little time for it to kick in," Alvin says, quietly, a sort of tightness to his voice. "I don't really taste much, I can eat anything, even rotten stuff. So it's okay." It's honest, that comment, there's no touch of sarcasm to it at all. Which may explain his lack of body weight.

The cookies seem to be cooling down now. Hilde turns and opens a cupboard to pull out a large platter. She nods as she listens to the boy speak. "I see, does it have to do with your ability then?" She begins arranging the cookies on the platter in a pleasant manner. She turns to the boy again. "If you do not taste much, does that mean you can taste stronger foods?" She decides she may cook him some of her fire tacos some time soon.

Alvin has stolen a cookie off the cooler racks when her back was turned. Although it's not really stealing, since she has encouraged him several times to eat. His hands are as bad as his face, nails are mottled, some black, another with dark red under it, another cracked heavily, exposing red. "Yeah, I have the awesome ability to feel like shit," Alvin says, with a brief, rusty-hinge laugh. "Sometimes. Depends on the day," Alvin answers. He tastes a little of the cookie, and then waits, to see how his system goes. He doesn't comment, but doesn't eat more of it yet, just hangs onto it. "Thanks for the cookie," he murmurs, starting to inch away.

The woman frowns at the boy. The next time she cooks for him she's going to lace the food with vitamins. Hilde nods "No problem. Actually, you should take a couple more." She grabs a small plate out of the cabinet and loads it up with cookies before wrapping it with plastic wrap. She holds out the plate to Alvin, "Here. Take them with you, just put the plate in the sink whenever you're done." She stands there smiling at the boy. "I don't care if you don't think you'll eat them. Take them just in case you get hungry."

Alvin flushes when she pushes the plate on him, unburying his other hand. It's as severe as the first. Which usually makes people realize it's that bad everywhere on his body— which it is. Pity ruffles his feathers, Alvin looks tense, uncomfortable. "…Okay, I guess, Ms. V," Alvin ends up with, unhappily, but taking them, it looks like. Not so much unhappy with the plate, but the heavy focus. He's blushing, a ugly mottled flush with the pallor. "Thanks."

Hilde smiles. "There, see? it brought some color to your cheeks." It seems she thinks the cookie has somehow invigorated the boy, rather than causing him to blush. "Ms. V…That is easy to say. Perhaps that is what I will have the students call me." She ponders for a moment. "Well Alvin, enjoy your cookies. I have to run to the city real quick to meet with some TV guy." She waves a hand at the idea. The woman jots a quick note on a piece of paper and props it up by the cookies, it says "Help Yourself!". She turns and smiles at the boy again, "Have a great day, kiddo." She walks past him and begins to head toward the elevator.

Alvin doesn't move, or say much, the embarrassment has gone far to kind of paralyze him. He watches her move around, and nods quietly when she says goodbye. "Bye," He adds, belatedly, but she's probably out of range.

~ Fin ~

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