with_my_teacup | R 22 - Where are you going? Nothing here is free

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R 22 - Where are you going? Nothing here is free

[Who was found in a ~~pineapple under the sea~~ dumpster on Furya as a kid and really doesn't give much of a shit about parent-oriented holidays except for the tension it's causing? This guy! Who's pissed off because one of the kitchen badasses is down? This guy! Who has learned to cook instead of murder when he's feeling tense?

Fortunately for the Bargians who don't consider fighting a form of entertainment, this guy.]

Who out of all you people knows what a bagel tastes like? I need taste-testers. I always fuck up my sugar content on the first try.

[LATER, ALSO PUBLIC]

Bagels are edible, gonna have them for breakfast twice a week if people eat'm.

[Private to Chris]
What's the other thing you wanted with bagels. A topping. You were throwing a fit about it like a month ago.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

About as much as you know about self defense.

[Chewing noises]

This is gonna be better with salmon.

[Refrigerator opens.]

Hey, lox.

[Scary-knife piercing shrinkwrap noise]

...mm, oh, yeah, this is-- cured? Gonna go well with the bagels.

Told you, asshole.

And fuck you, I'm amazing at self-defense.

...yeah, and you're great at self-awareness, too.

If you want any come and get some. I ain't going out of the way for you.

Trial-and-error bagels when you don't even know the goddamn consistency or ever had one before? Can't see that going wrong at all.

Yeah, it's like I could use someone who knows what they're doing to get this right.

[Chris you exhaust him sometimes.]

This is some bullshit plan you have of getting me fat, Riddick.

...why would I do that. What even goes through your head.

You miss when I was a roly poly baby. Ergo; chubbiness.

But sure, I'll come test out your crap bagels and tell you how much they suck.

I miss having a baby around. Not it being you. I'm really not up for that level of brainfuck, thanks. You weren't that cute.

Fuck you, I was adorable.

Where the fuck are you?

Eh.

...CES, second moon of the Stovetop system. I'm in the kitchen, where else would I be-?

Really? I was going to guess up your own ass.

I'd considered it, but I didn't want people to think I was taking strategy lessons from you.

Aaaaaand you can go royally fuck yourself.

Anything you say, baby boy.

[Sweet as sugar.]

[Chris enters the kitchen, hands in pockets after he's shut his communicator off]

Fuck you, bagel boy.

Eat this.

[Riddick spins a bagel at him like a deadly implement and gestures at a small plate of lox and cream cheese impatiently.]

I've got three more batches of dough sitting, I need to know which one to actually cook.

[Since this bullshit takes so long, he grudgingly hedged his bets and made three batches. It's a waste of food but with his slightly .. different sense of taste it's the best he can do.

This batch, his sugar-blindness has erred on the side of too-sweet-- and more, his tendency to overwork dough has taken it from 'chewy' to 'endurance test'. It's not the kind of thing you notice when your jaw is strong enough to break apart bone, unfortunately.]

[Sparing the mercenary an increasingly skeptical look, Chris drops down in a seat and spreads the cream cheese over the surface. Warily, he takes a bite...or tries to. With his mouth full, he mutters around the bread,]

Thish tashtes like I'm eating rocksh.

[Riddick sighs and goes for the covered dishes. Note: work it out a little less before boiling. At least he knows what he did wrong.]

Sugar content high, low, or right.

You're going to rot my teeth.

[Nudging the trash can over with his foot, Chris spits out the half-chewed mouthful]

Holy shit. Did I lose a tooth?

[Bowl 2, then. Sugar-. He'll cook the rest for himself after everyone's asleep.

He pulls it over to him, notes the volume of dough-- punches it down per the book's instruction, with a little less gusto this time-- and flips the towel back over it.]

This goes to boil in ten. If you ain't been too badly defeated by cooking, stick around.

[He leans back against a counter, eating one of the first batch of bagels, the ridge of muscle along his jaw working as he munches through it with contentment.]

Drink-?

No, I'm cool. Shut up, not everyone has a fucking iron jaw line.

You can't smell anything, you can't eat anything, I wonder how you people get through the day so often.

[A long sigh, and he jams his somewhat floury fingers under his goggles, massaging his eyes and the bridge of his nose.]

I kind of want an invasion again. Fear and adrenaline's so much easier than all this free-float misery.

Yeah, we're all pathetic humans with crap senses, I know.

[He begins making symbols in the flour with his fingers, frowning at the counter]

Don't say that.

...the admiral doesn't actually listen when we say we're irritated. Warden secret.

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