Players:
Summary: Big things may be going on elsewhere, but people still meet at random in the kitchen. Debut Chezlie.
Date: January 25, 2010
Log Title Coincidental Gatherings
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 little dorm room sporting the name tag of Chezlie and Evan has been abandoned to the furniture and clothes, with a new found suitcase and bag that could almost be described as planted in the middle of the room if only they weren't just slightly to the left, laying on the floor. So now the adventure of discovering the institute with hopefully the added bonus of meeting a new face or two becomes Chezlie's main focus, and what better place to start than the kitchen? You'd see it that way if you were thirsty too.
Skyler is currently in the middle of making himself some dinner. With all the commotion going on downstairs he'd decided to keep himself out of the way for now. Still, he's not much of a cook, so the best he can manage is some mac & Cheese with some hot dogs thrown in. So far he hasn't gotten to the Mac part, as the pot of water he put on the stove hasn't started boiling yet.
Heather does see it the way that Chezlie. Mostly because she's thirsty, too. For once in her life, Heather isn't looking particularly mismatched, but that may be because she's just wearing generic Xavier's workout clothes. The speedster zips into the kitchen, and the gleam of sweat on her brow suggests that she has been in the workout room for awhile today, and continues zipping toward the sink. Experimenting with ways to kill time is pretty much what she spends the entirety of her days doing. She doesn't greet anyone for now, feeling that the far nobler goal of hydration must be fulfilled.
Mike knows nothing of any drama downstairs. This is a good thing. Mike does, however, know that the strange woman substitute-teaching the Home Ec class has declared his cupcakes (upon which he SLAVED! saturday) to be cheating. May not use microwave. Also, they were muffiny and did not taste sweet.
Mike enters the kitchen with a bag in hand, a piece of paper in other hand, and a … pleasant expression on his face. Not the scowl he'd like.
He stops, waves at Dallas, stops again, turns on his eyes (look, real headlights!) and they shine on the "My Name is Skyler" sticker. Oh. Hm…
"HIThere!" he says, or rather, his builtin radio plays the Peter Gabriel sample he's using for that.
Skyler looks up from the pot of nearly-boiling water when the wind rustles about him and Heather is suddenly there, seeking water. "Uh," he begins, slightly startled until he's interrupted by Peter Gabriel. Looking over his shoulder he grins at the metallic mutant and says, "Hi, Mike." And then with a bit if puzzlement, "You actually eat?"
Chezlie is about to speak up at the sight of the teen in the middle of the most complex step of making Mac and Cheese, boiling the water, when another zips right past her. "Oh, uh… hi." She says in a tone so hushed that it probably wouldn't be quite loud enough to raise much of a suspicion from any of the others in the cooking area. Not with all the racket going on down stairs. Speaking of that noise, it has definitely left the poor new kid with an added uneasy feelingon top of that uneasy feeling you get from being the new kid. She's quick to side step the robot that just walked in carrying a bag in one hand, cocking her head slightly to the side. Now one would think coming from a family that practices polygamy in middle of now where Utah, you'd start getting use to the strange and unusual. Guess not.
Heather spins around to face the others after having filled up a cup, downing it about as quick as gravity allows and placing it down gently on the counter. She raises her tape recorder to play, "Hello there everyone." And then she furrows her brow a bit at everyone, particularly at Chezlie. There's a pause before the tape recorder plays, "I have never seen you around here before. Are you a new person?"
Mike …also relies on a recorder but his is internal and not nearly so flexible. But he does answer the question. In someone else's voice, singing. "I'm a new soul I came to this strange world hoping I could learn a bit bout how to give and take," OK, its better than the previous one he used.
He shows Skyler the assignment and the teacher's notes: "Cupcakes, yatta yatta, standard ratios yatta yatta, two other students taste test, fill out form, you taste test, fill out form bring last one to teacher for verification"… Yeah. Well the "You taste test" part has at least been crossed out.
Mike pulls a thermos out of the bag, shrugs, and opens it, putting in a metal straw. The faint odor of gasoline wafts out to those who can smell it.
Skyler puzzles over the assignment before looking up at Mike. "Why would you take Home Ec?" He, then, looks to the other two girls in the room and nods at them. "Hey, good evening."
The teen from Utah meekly nods, causing a light swing in her straight, brown hair, but becomes immediately overcome with confusion as the robot, now drinking what smells like gasoline out of a metal straw, answers before her. Chezlie forces down some saliva through an extremely parched throat, her voice still coming out a little bit scratchy. "I'm new as well. Moved in earlier today." Forcing out a half smile before giving a nod to teen boiling up the water. It's not long before a sheepish finger points up towards the cabinet the other girl grabbed a glass from. "That's where the glasses are?" she questions, still not feeling comfortable enough to just go up and grab one.
Heather nods at Chezlie a few times quickly, stating from her tape recorder, "Welcome to my life, new person. I am Heather Brown, Codename: Timeslip. The cups are right there. Feel free to use them." The speedster nods a few times rapidly and then adds, "Home Ec seems useless. I can cook fine without it."
The robot kid shrugs. A profound answer and the one he usually gives when asked why anything ended up on his schedule. He writes on one of those 3x5 post-it notes, "Auto Shop was unavailable and Health … probably have to take next semestr"
He happens to be moving to the counter, so he reaches up and grabs a cup, placing it in front of the shy girl. He'd be more welcoming but he's usually the strong, silent type. Not by choice.
"Welcome, new girl," Skyler says, with a grin. "I'm Skyler, like what the nametag says." Although he doesn't explain why he's wearing the nametag yet. He points to the robod kid. "That's Mikeohcrap!" The water is now literally frothing at this point, and he quickly reaches over and turns down the heat a little bit before adding the noodles into the pot, stirring it with a wooden spoon.
"Thanks," is the single word Chezlie utters as the cup is placed down before her and a genuinely warm smile makes its first appearance. Several steps are then taken over to the sink and the spout is turned to cold and on, pouring water into the glass nearly to the brim. Her eyes focus in on the name tag across Skyler's shirt as she begins to wonder if she was suppose to get one of those after having met several of the teachers earlier in the afternoon. "Name's Chezlie Rockwell and I… um… don't have a code name." She sounds disappointed, not quite sure if she wasn't suppose to arrive with one already picked out. The confusion is quick to return. "Was I suppose to get a name tag too?"
Heather plays from her tape recorder, "It's fine if you don't have a codename. I will just call you Chezlie, then." She glances about and then looks towards Skyler, now looking a little bit confused, "Skyler? Last time I met you, you said your name was Dallas. Do you use your middle name sometimes?"
Mike listens for Skyler's explanation since he has heard a version of it and isn't sure he quite gets it yet. Meanwhile, from the bag, a small airline flask of tequila (still sealed) appears, along with cocoa powder so dark it looks like a singularity of chocolate. The other ingredients he gets with ruthless efficiency: bowl, flour, water, eggs, oil (cooking, not motor), and brown sugar. He also prepares four, no, six, paper cupcake shells in a cupcake pan. It'll take longer this time.
"No," Skyler says patiently as he stirs the still-boiling pot. "You talked to Dallas before. I'm a completely different person, even though I look just like him, for now." He looks over his shoulder at the other mutants in the room. "I'm something of a genetic copying machine. I can overwrite their genetics over mine, turning me into them."
"Ah." Chezlie says, more mouthing than the wording than actually speaking it. It's fairly obvious she doesn't quite get what he's talking about, but goes along none the less, slowly piecing it together as his words roll around inside her head. "Oh, so it's like your gift is looking like other people?" She speaks the question, soundingplenty of timid with each spoken word.
Heather stares for a few moments at Skyler and she plays on the tape recorder. "You can become me?" She seems a little bit wary, almost nauseous, at the very idea. "That's impossible," she decides, nodding her head quite decisively, before watching Mike put together the ingredients with no small amount of interest.
It may seem he's not really listening, but Mike's got his audio receptors on. Just, not much to say, or rather, not much to say it with. The radio in his head (sorta) drifts around from station to station very quietly, almost as if he were mumbling to himself; he can't find the Connecticut sation he had yesterdy and the NYC stations are still … weird. But sometime just a few minutes ago, the catholic radio station (the one that's been playing nothing but Mass and a pre-recorded Exorcism) paused. For some reason the a bit of Lutheran music crept in, "A Mighty Fortress" - before it switched back.
Mike seems not to notice - making the cupcake batter is standard, quick, and the tequila goes in there along with a bit of crushed red pepper.
Skyler looks over his shoulder and raises an eybrow at Heather. "Only physically," he says, explaining to both Heather and Chezlie. "I don't get their personality or memory. Just everything else." He blinks at Mike. "Uh. I don't think red pepper goes into cupcakes. Don't you have a /recipe/ or something?"
Chezlie is beginning to nod at Skyler's last comment just as the mentioning of red peppers in cupcakes immediately pulls her attention to the baking robot. "I know where I come from is a bit strange to most people, but this has to top it. I've never seen anyone use red peppers in cupcakes." Of course it wouldn't hurt to mention she's never seen a robot/teen baking cupcakes. "Maye red sprinkles, but not red peppers."
Heather raises an eyebrow at the other and says, "Cupcakes without red peppers? Cupcakes with red peppers? I say we try them both. They both sound good." Given the way that Heather 'cooks' for herself, though, her suggestions aren't particularly reliable.
Mike stops whisking and nods. He shows a printout from a webpage. Aztec cupcakes. He's made some notes on the amounts of flour, egg, sugar, water, comparing them to the ones on the teacher's handout. THIS time, he is determined to get a good grade. Ever the optimist, Mikey!
Skyler looks a little relieved that the focus of conversation has changed from his powers to that of the cupcakes before scrutinizing the recipe for a moment before going, "Hunh. Well, carry on, then." For his own meal, it's time to drain the noodles, so he goes on the hunt for a strainer.
Chezlie takes the same exact attitude as Skyler and just merely excepts the cupcakes for what they are, knowing deep down that she'd probably never actually try them. "I guess." she shrugs, finally taking a pull from her glass of water, having merely held it for most of this time. She uses her free arm to scratch at the back of her head, using it as some sort of catalyst for thought. "So… have all of you been living her for a while then?"
Heather shakes her head and plays from her machine, "In your time, I haven't been here for very long at all. Two months and seven days, I would estimate?" Which, in Heather's time, is actually something closer to a year. She scratches her head lightly and shrugs.
And the batter, Mikey puts it into the cupcakes. Not very gracefully but in it goes. He offers the spatula, whisk, and bowl to the others, since he can no longer hog them himself (takes a sip from his thermos instead) and then places the …oh bother. Forgot to preheat the oven. OK, he sets the oven for 350 and preheat.
Whether or not anyone wants uncooked batter (it's actually pretty tasty, if a bit INTENSE from the cocoa powder he used, not to mention having that faint whiff, and where did Mikey get tequila?) …ANYWAY. The notepad. Mikey writes. "Been here since… I think last week. Seems longer."
"Two years," Skyler answers, draining the water out of the pot before returning the noodles back into them. "I'll be graduating this year, though I have no idea what I'm going to do beyond that."
There's tons of nodding coming from the teen that just arrived from Utah, knowing there's absolutely no reason to speak up on how little of time she's been at the institute. Nice to know there's plenty of other new kids, and she probably won't be the newest for long. She turns her attention to the offered uncooked batter and politely declines with a wave. "No thanks, though I'm sure it's really good." Though it wasn't really a choice she made for herself, Chezlie has never come close to tasting alcohol. It's not like she could even if she really wanted to, not at the fundamentalist community. If there were any to be found, it was well hid from all the nosey, prying eyed neighbors.
Heather looks at the batter for a few moments and sneaks a little bit of it. It's done pretty quickly, but then, so is every one of Heather's jerky little motions. She plays on the recorder, "That tastes really good. What does it take like after it's made hot?"
Mike shrugs. PING, preheated! He slides the pan into the oven, not bothering with an oven mitt - 350 won't even mark his tread after all.
A quick note answers Heather, "I dunno, I never had them. I can't eat people food now. I'm a car, I run on gasoline." That latter being a quote from a comedian that Mike wasn't fast enough to sample, and writing it out? Just not as funny.
Skyler mixes in the powder with some milk and butter and then pours the mac & cheese into a bowl, rinsing out the pot and putting it in the dishwasher after. "Don't blow up the kitchen guys," he says in way of parting, wandering out to the dining room to eat his meal.
Chezlie practically spits out the water she's chugging to the finish as the words "I'm a car, I run on gasoline" breach into her ear canals. Her attempt at recovery isn't half bad, using the back of her left hand to wipe away the scattered little drops running down her chin. There's also a sense of relief that she in fact did not take a taste of the batter. How's it going to taste good if the person making it can't even taste it for them self? She makes a mental note to question him on all this at some later date.
Heather blinks a few times at Mike's note and tilts her head back and forth a couple of times. She plays on her machine, "Gasoline? Ick. I don't like the smell of gasoline. I don't think I would much like the taste of it, either."
Mike would chuckle, but lacks a decent 'laugh track' at the moment, so instead he … shrugs, again. OK, need to work on your vocabulary of expressive body language, Mr. Drakos, because you are NOT impressing the girls with your eloquence.
He writes on a note, "It tastes good to me, now. Didn't when I was a human of course."
Chezlie squints trying to read the note and simply nods her head in one of those ways to let people know that you understand, but in reality they can tell you're just simply running through the motions. Yep, there's no one who drinks gasoline back in Hildale or Salt Lake. "Yeah, not sure I'd be too down with downing some gasoline either, but hey, I guess if you're not human any more…" she trails off, walking back towards the sink to place her now empty glass back into it.
Heather shakes her head quickly at Mike and she fills up another glass with water, drinking it down just as fast as the last one. "I guess if you like it, and it doesn't rot your stomach, then it should be fine. I just don't
like the smell much."
Mike writes down, "No stomach. Engine."
Chezlie takes a couple steps towards the machine/teen to read his newest note, nodding her head and muttering softly to herself. "Yeah, I think I figured just as much." She says, moving a little towards the kitchen door. "Well, it was really nice to meet all of you, but I might see if I can go stumble across my roommate, figure out who I'm bunking with and all."
Mike waves, a bit disappointed that she won't be a sacrificial victim to the cupcake … but he'll find someone. He did last time. They didn't die. Much.
Heather nods her head quickly and plays, "Goodbye, Chezlie. It was nice to meet you." She looks towards Mike's notes and plays a second message, "Have you ever considered taking up sign language?"
Mike tilts his head, nods, and writes. "YES! Have you? That has to be equally annoying."
The little teen from Utah offers up a quick wave of her own to the two remaining students before heading back out into the hallway.
Heather nods her head quickly and plays from the recorder, "It's very annoying. I have thought about it, but I've never been anywhere that I could learn. Do you think they would make a class if we wanted to learn it?"
Mike checks the timer, 10 minutes to go… "YESYESYESYES", he says, by playing a sample of the Bit from TRON. Of course the real problem is, some parts require lipreading and his mouth doesn't really move that much. Speaking of which, he inserts the straw into his mouth againand there's a faint chuggchuggchughslurpgurrrrgle. Another thermos of fuel done.
Heather nods her head a few times quickly. She has a very hard time with facial expressions, herself, since it's difficult to keep her face in any given position for that amount of time. She plays from her recorder, "Usually, I use a whiteboard or my recorder. Usually the recorder. But I think if I could do signs, it would be much better."
Mike draws a picture of a happy-face (with a cat-grin) and sticks it on his face then nods emphatically. Yes.
Then he writes again: "Only trouble, what if the others don't know sign language?"
Heather shakes her head and plays, "If the others don't know sign language, I guess I don't know what I'll do. But some people do, I'm sure."
Mike checks the timer. Five more minutes. Something occurs to him. Yet another note, and he pulls the smiley
off his forehead before he shows it.
"Did you ever see that Star Trek from the first series reruns with the speeded-up people?"
Not necessarily thinking clearly about this one, is Mikey. She might be able to follow the scanning-dot, given the speed difference.
Heather stares blankly at Mike and says, "No, I haven't. I didn't watch TV when I was younger, and I spent the last few of your years in the white prison." Fifteen, in her own perception. "I don't know anything about Star Trek."
Mike facepalms. Clank. OK, that was dumb, Mike.
He writes, "White prison? Not sure what that is. I will find a website and send it to you for Star Trek if you want."
And, the cupcakes are starting to really smell good. Mike turns his head from side to side questingly as something ALMOST smells like something to him. Probably from the evaporation of the alcohols in the small amount of tequila.
Heather shrugs and plays on her machine, "It was a white prison. There's not much else I can say about it. Three years, sixteen days in your time." She tilts her head slightly at Mike and plays a second message, "You can send it to me, I guess, but if I can't find a way to speed it up, it's not a very good way to spend my time."
Mike nods, pulling the cupcakes out. This time, just in case, he does use a layer of paper towels to protect his finish.
Oven off, cupcakes go onto a rack for a few minutes. He chooses to take the last bit as a general directive, and appends to an earlier note, "Note, Heather needs faster playback or just text and stills."
Nodding, Heather says, "Well, it was nice talking to you, but I should head back to the workout room. I have an hour to kill, still, and I want to try all the machines."
Mike offers, silently, one of the cupcakes, figuring in an hour of her time it will still be warm but no longer too hot to eat. He'll write a note, must cool 10 min before eating, if necessary. And when she leaves, he cleans up his mess and takes his cupcakes off to his room. Tomorrow, there will be cupcake victims. This, this is a promise.
