with_my_teacup | Kitchen Spam

Kitchen Spam - saturday morning

[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.]

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Wonderful.

Good morning. My name is Riddick; I'm a cook and occasional baker. I'll be making breakfast once I get some protective gear on.

[Not his usual procedure at all, but he's not sure how to broach the 'don't touch me' conversation yet.]

[Young Ned nods, beginning to slowly back out of the kitchen; he seems instinctively edging away from Riddick himself, so there's no need to go over the don't touch me rules]

...What happened?

I'm not sure what you mean.

..aren't you going to finish your pie? You're welcome to, you know.

...There's one baking.

In.

In the oven.

...

Is this death?

A-hah. Of course.

It isn't death, dear child.

[Ugh, could he sound like more of an asshole. He's gonna go with no.]

You're usually a bit older-- but quite alive-- but this is a complicated place. You've been de-aged for a time. It happens, every now and again.

You taught me to bake, you know.

[Flowery, yet blunt.]

[All of this information, Young Ned absorbs into himself. He looks at Digby for confirmation, then back to Riddick once more]

By magic.

By magic, I'm afraid. I don't much like magic as an explanation but I haven't found a better.

[Young Ned, worried and concerned by his own magic, holds up his pointer finger to Riddick.

This kind of magic?]

[Riddick nods seriously, and holds his own finger up to his lips. It's a secret.]

It's magic to be careful with. Do you know how to be careful?

[Giving a single, serious nod, Young Ned puts his own finger to his lips before setting his arm down]

....I wasn't careful. I'll be careful. I promise.

I wasn't careful either, I'm afraid. You will have to be particularly careful with me, and with another boy named Arthas.

You are my dear friend and I'm sorry I've discommoded you. I hope you will still work in the kitchen with me-- there are so many people here who you make happier with your baking.

[The crushed, absolute look of misery that shows on Young Ned's face reveals he knows exactly what kind of careful he has to be around Riddick. Which is odd, because he didn't remember touching the man, or telling anyone.]

...I don't want to go to jail again.

I don't want to kill anyone again.

[His shoulders slump sympathetically, and he retrieves an apron and the longest pair of nitrile gloves the kitchen has before he reaches out for a handshake.]

You won't, dear boy. You won't. It was my mistake. And nobody will take you away here. Your friends will look after you.

[Young Ned stares at the hand, checking it over to make sure there's no way he can hurt Riddick.

Then, he shakes the man's hand]

No.

Why not?

It was my mistake.

I don't have friends.

I'd be your friend.

...although I have the distressing notion that it will be easier once you're older and remember to blame me again.

[He frowns, clearly not understanding but knowing that asking questions is a bad and disappointing thing]

...

[Riddick puts it on Ned's shoulder.]

I am your friend. You are entirely welcome in this kitchen. There is no organized police force to harass you here, and you are not the strangest person aboard. I do so badly want you to feel safe.

[This, Young Ned is unsure about. He's grown accustomed to the lies adults - and children - tell. He's slogged along in a disappointed slump of detachment, too afraid to grow close to people and then accidentally or on purpose touch them back to life later on.

So he lies. Again. To keep Riddick safe.]

I don't want to be your friend.

All right. [And Riddick hurts for him because he remembers why Ned tries not to be friends. The good reasons.]

Will you be my baking partner? There are so many mouths to feed.

[This one is a harder choice. As scared as Young Ned is to attach himself to people, he loves baking equally more. It's the sense of home he desperate misses, and in this time and place he needs it more than ever.

He glances to Digby, who unhelpfully only tilts his head to the side.

Finally, Young Ned gives a tentative nod]

Splendid. How much longer shall the pie bake? It smells pretty well along. We should have something to put in once it's taken out-- what do you think? A savoury pie or a sweet one?

...It's blueberry.

Thirteen minutes and 28 seconds.

And for the next one?

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