Kitchen Spam - saturday morning

[with_my_teacup]

[The breakfast menu just got kid friendly-- and the kitchen just got a lot better secured. No little hands in sharp places, or high places, or hot places; Riddick has it locked down. He's also keeping a serious eye on the mess hall, dividing his attention between waffles and doing walkarounds.

Unfortunately, he's not quite himself. He found this pair of smoked eyeglasses... and he's been trying not to talk ever since he put them on. Fucking floods, am I right.]

Comments

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[It's strange. Ben knows he's supposed to be here, that he was assigned kitchen duty for some reason, but he doesn't know the first thing about how to go about it. Still, he has to do what he's told, and he'll just have to hope it will make more sense when he gets there.

So have a tall, gangly pre-teen with shortshorn blonde hair, wearing a familiar set of black military BDU pants and a grey t-shirt, with a barcode on the back of his neck, standing outside the kitchen doors with a white stone in his palm, looking somewhat anxious and trying not to show it.]

[ Spam ]

[with_my_teacup]

[On hearing the door unlock, Riddick opens it-- and recognizes the barcode and the faintly feline scent more than he does the features.]

Ben, how good to see you. Do you mean to cook with us today?

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[Ben really can't help the way that the moment the door open and he spots someone on the other side, he falls back to a swift, correct attention.

He goes stiff when the man uses his name, for just a moment, then swallows subtly.]

If I am meant to, sir.

Re: [ Spam ]

[with_my_teacup]

You often do with the dinner shift. If you do not feel comfortable doing so you need not-- but you are welcome to, and I will acquaint you with anything that is unfamiliar.