She finally releases his arm once they get to the kitchen, since he surely can't cook with her hand at his elbow. She clasps her hands behind her back and roams along the length of the counter.
"I have experience being kicked out of many kitchens. But I am fairly proficient at scrubbing!"
"A useful skill in a kitchen! What about chopping?" He heads into the larder to get what he needs, fetching onions, garlic,and tomatoes, amongst other things he nestles into a basket.
He had been holding out a knife, but at that he pulls it back to his chest,
brows furrowed. "I can't tell if you're joking. You really need all your
fingers; somatic components are more difficult without them."
He considers this for a long moment, knife still held close to his chest while he frowns. Finally he sighs, turns the knife around, and hands her the handle. "You are chaos. Let's see how chaos fairs at chopping an onion."
He gets out a cutting board and sets her up at a spot on the counter, eyeing her warily as he prepares the rest, getting out a pot, setting it over a flame he magics up, putting in a dollop of butter once he's got it heated.
She hums a tune as she chops the onion, something popular in Baldurian taverns. The cuts are rough and uneven in shape and size, but the onion is undeniably in multiple pieces. Technically a success.
The fumes sting her sinuses, so she's red-eyed and sniffly when she brings the cutting board over. If anyone asks, she will be saying that Gale's tour brought her to tears.
"Not bad," Gale agrees as he scoops the onions into the pan, where they start to sizzle. "But it will be easier if you hold the knife properly." Without asking permission, he puts his hand over hers, adjusting her grip. He also shows her how to curl the fingers of her off hand under so that she can grasp what she's cutting without risking her fingertips. He gives her peppers to chop next, standing beside her to finely chop garlic.
Something about him reaching across her and touching her hands makes her posture automatically switch to flirt mode. She stands up straighter and squeezes her arms against the sides of her ribcage, which makes her breasts plump together under her stays. She inclines her head just so to let her perfumed hair slip off her shoulder and expose the pale length of her throat. Her eyelids lower so she can peer through her lashes.
It's a cheap trick, but one that works often enough that it's become a habit.
The heat creeping up the back of her neck is entirely involuntary, however.
"So how were you selected for the grand high honor of being my guide?"
Instead, he frowns down at her hands, shaking his head.
"I know it feels awkward at first, but if you don't curve your fingers
under, you'll eventually slice the tips off. Like this." He shows her again
the way he holds the little garlic clove as he slices it.
Her question makes him frown, obviously annoyed by something, but he seems
to realize this might be offensive, so he fixes his face before continuing,
"The headmaster said that... It would be good for me, to meet new people."
He actually said it would be good for Gale to practice socializing with his
peers, but that's too embarrassing to admit.
Well, that takes the wind out of her sails. She stops trying to push her tits up to the heavens and focuses on curling her fingers out of the way as she chops peppers.
"Aha! I'm punishment." She tries to say it with light humor but there's an undercurrent of bitterness. She knew it.
"If you were intended to be punishment, then they chose poorly. If they wanted to punish me, they'd have made me spend time with Vandemaar," Gale replies evenly. The garlic and the peppers go into the skillet, and it already smells wonderful, Gale starts measuring in spices with little spoons, which ramps the smell up, but also stings their eyes a little. One way or another, he's going to keep making her cry. "Besides, what would I possibly need to be punished for?" Well, there's plenty of trouble he gets into, but he's the top student, so he gets away with most of it.
"Who is Vandemaar?" She sensed the glimmering thread of gossip and can't resist tugging those strings.
She also, after such a successful turn as sous chef, nicks her finger while rinsing the knife. She hisses a little foul language and sucks on her knuckle.
Gale frowns, adding tomatoes to the pan with the previous ingredients.
While he talks, he slices bread and starts it toasting. "Someone who
doesn't focus nearly as much on his studies as he should. At this rate,
he'll never finish his education. He'll be here his entire life. Yet he's
all the more popular for it, which is entirely—" She curses, and he turns
to rush over, demanding, "Let me see. How bad is it?"
It seems to Harley that Vandemaar is probably more fun at parties than Gale, and that Gale might think a party should involve at least two hours of diligent note taking. That train of thought might have contributed to her distraction.
She startles at Gale suddenly getting bossy at her and hides her hand behind her back.
Gale frowns at that. As a rule, teenage boys don't like being called
mother. "A wizard ought to be more careful with his or her hands." He takes
out an embroidered handkerchief and presses it to her fingers, then starts
looking through a cabinet. "Hold that. There should be a potion or two for
kitchen accidents."
She scoffs and wraps her finger in a fold of skirt.
"Well I'm not a wizard yet, so I can mistreat my hands as much as I like. Stop that, it will be good as healed by morning. This isn't worth wasting an entire potion."
"Oh, hush, it's your dinner burnt too!" Gale complains. He tosses the burnt
bread aside with a frown, fingertips still throbbing, then cracks a few
eggs into the sauce, letting them cook unmixed in the sauce. He holds his
injured hand close to his chest, protective, while he rifles through
cabinets with the off-hand until he pulls out a glass bottle. It's nothing
fancy, but the contents are a familiar red, and there are at least a dozen
more behind it. He uncorks it with his teeth and downs half of it, setting
the other half on the counter. "Since you don't want to waste, we can split
it. It should still be sufficient." He tosses two more slices of bread on
to toast. He's definitely not pouting about being mocked.
"An entire half bottle for a pain that could have been kissed better! Absurd."
But. Since it's already opened. She holds her over the basin and carefully tips the bottle for one drop to land on her cut. It doesn't fully heal but it looks at least a few hours old, and won't get infected. He had to go and uncork it with his mouth like a savage, so she has to cut the cork down past his bite marks before stopping it back up.
"No wonder this is such an expensive vocation, if all of wizardry is so wasteful with their goods."
The bottle is slipped into her pocket. She can get several uses out of that, yet.
"A kiss isn't going to do anything for an injury," he says
matter-of-factly. He watches her pour just a drop onto her cut fingers and
rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anything smartass about it. He has noticed
that her clothes are hardly new, and he isn't so inconsiderate as to have
no idea what that might mean about the life she's led, even if it took him
a while to think about it.
"You have no idea. The paper and ink alone costs a small fortune,"
he says, trying to joke about it, to smooth things over, but it just comes
out a little dry and awkward.
Gale clears his throat and turns back to the food. He had been hoping to
impress with his cooking, but now he's just looking forward to the fact
that eating will relieve him from the expectation to talk. He dishes
shakshuka into two bowls, tops each with crumbled feta and parsley, and
tucks toast into the side of each bowl, one burnt and one under-toasted
piece each. He pours them each a cup of water, then hands her her own cup
and bowl. "This way," he says, nodding for her to follow him into the
dining hall.
"Then perhaps you have not been kissing right," she answers just as matter-of-fact. She punctuates with an imperious toss of her hair, which is an unfair advantage and difficult to argue with.
Her faces turns with worry when thinking about the cost of even the most basic tools, and she's so deep in running the numbers that she almost misses being handed dinner.
She takes the cup and bowl and follows him, looking around with as much interest as she had for the proper tour.
"How did you know?" she asks abruptly. "That you wanted to be a wizard."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"I have experience being kicked out of many kitchens. But I am fairly proficient at scrubbing!"
no subject
no subject
She's made it this far in life without severing any noticeable parts, so she's probably not all that bad. Probably.
no subject
He had been holding out a knife, but at that he pulls it back to his chest, brows furrowed. "I can't tell if you're joking. You really need all your fingers; somatic components are more difficult without them."
no subject
"S'pose we'll find out together."
no subject
He gets out a cutting board and sets her up at a spot on the counter, eyeing her warily as he prepares the rest, getting out a pot, setting it over a flame he magics up, putting in a dollop of butter once he's got it heated.
no subject
The fumes sting her sinuses, so she's red-eyed and sniffly when she brings the cutting board over. If anyone asks, she will be saying that Gale's tour brought her to tears.
"Still got ten fingers. Not bad."
no subject
no subject
Something about him reaching across her and touching her hands makes her posture automatically switch to flirt mode. She stands up straighter and squeezes her arms against the sides of her ribcage, which makes her breasts plump together under her stays. She inclines her head just so to let her perfumed hair slip off her shoulder and expose the pale length of her throat. Her eyelids lower so she can peer through her lashes.
It's a cheap trick, but one that works often enough that it's become a habit.
The heat creeping up the back of her neck is entirely involuntary, however.
"So how were you selected for the grand high honor of being my guide?"
no subject
Gale doesn't notice the change in posture.
Instead, he frowns down at her hands, shaking his head.
"I know it feels awkward at first, but if you don't curve your fingers under, you'll eventually slice the tips off. Like this." He shows her again the way he holds the little garlic clove as he slices it.
Her question makes him frown, obviously annoyed by something, but he seems to realize this might be offensive, so he fixes his face before continuing, "The headmaster said that... It would be good for me, to meet new people." He actually said it would be good for Gale to practice socializing with his peers, but that's too embarrassing to admit.
no subject
"Aha! I'm punishment." She tries to say it with light humor but there's an undercurrent of bitterness. She knew it.
no subject
no subject
She also, after such a successful turn as sous chef, nicks her finger while rinsing the knife. She hisses a little foul language and sucks on her knuckle.
no subject
Gale frowns, adding tomatoes to the pan with the previous ingredients. While he talks, he slices bread and starts it toasting. "Someone who doesn't focus nearly as much on his studies as he should. At this rate, he'll never finish his education. He'll be here his entire life. Yet he's all the more popular for it, which is entirely—" She curses, and he turns to rush over, demanding, "Let me see. How bad is it?"
no subject
She startles at Gale suddenly getting bossy at her and hides her hand behind her back.
"It's fine!"
no subject
"Why are you hiding?" He asks, holding out his hand expectantly, now convinced that it most be really bad. "Let me see."
no subject
"It's nothing, mother Gale."
The cut is shallow but fingers do be bleeding.
no subject
Gale frowns at that. As a rule, teenage boys don't like being called mother. "A wizard ought to be more careful with his or her hands." He takes out an embroidered handkerchief and presses it to her fingers, then starts looking through a cabinet. "Hold that. There should be a potion or two for kitchen accidents."
no subject
"Well I'm not a wizard yet, so I can mistreat my hands as much as I like. Stop that, it will be good as healed by morning. This isn't worth wasting an entire potion."
no subject
Gale frowns in consternation. "There are no shortage of potions in Blackstaff, no students assigned to replenish them even if there were."
He fundamentally does not understand her reluctance. Even outside of school, while not wealthy, he has never wanted for much.
"I don't—"
He smells burning bread and remembers the task at hand as he whirls to get the charred toast, cursing and burning his fingertips.
no subject
Vicioustepid mockery, first level.no subject
"Oh, hush, it's your dinner burnt too!" Gale complains. He tosses the burnt bread aside with a frown, fingertips still throbbing, then cracks a few eggs into the sauce, letting them cook unmixed in the sauce. He holds his injured hand close to his chest, protective, while he rifles through cabinets with the off-hand until he pulls out a glass bottle. It's nothing fancy, but the contents are a familiar red, and there are at least a dozen more behind it. He uncorks it with his teeth and downs half of it, setting the other half on the counter. "Since you don't want to waste, we can split it. It should still be sufficient." He tosses two more slices of bread on to toast. He's definitely not pouting about being mocked.
no subject
But. Since it's already opened. She holds her over the basin and carefully tips the bottle for one drop to land on her cut. It doesn't fully heal but it looks at least a few hours old, and won't get infected. He had to go and uncork it with his mouth like a savage, so she has to cut the cork down past his bite marks before stopping it back up.
"No wonder this is such an expensive vocation, if all of wizardry is so wasteful with their goods."
The bottle is slipped into her pocket. She can get several uses out of that, yet.
no subject
"A kiss isn't going to do anything for an injury," he says matter-of-factly. He watches her pour just a drop onto her cut fingers and rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anything smartass about it. He has noticed that her clothes are hardly new, and he isn't so inconsiderate as to have no idea what that might mean about the life she's led, even if it took him a while to think about it.
"You have no idea. The paper and ink alone costs a small fortune," he says, trying to joke about it, to smooth things over, but it just comes out a little dry and awkward.
Gale clears his throat and turns back to the food. He had been hoping to impress with his cooking, but now he's just looking forward to the fact that eating will relieve him from the expectation to talk. He dishes shakshuka into two bowls, tops each with crumbled feta and parsley, and tucks toast into the side of each bowl, one burnt and one under-toasted piece each. He pours them each a cup of water, then hands her her own cup and bowl. "This way," he says, nodding for her to follow him into the dining hall.
no subject
Her faces turns with worry when thinking about the cost of even the most basic tools, and she's so deep in running the numbers that she almost misses being handed dinner.
She takes the cup and bowl and follows him, looking around with as much interest as she had for the proper tour.
"How did you know?" she asks abruptly. "That you wanted to be a wizard."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)