tampered | Log: Ongoing

Log: Ongoing

When; Tuesday, July 14th
Rating; PG-ish?
Characters; Cain

primrosella
Summary; Dinner: it's one of the three most important meals of the day, y'know.
Log;

Rosella wasn't nervous about all this because there was nothing to be nervous about, really. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

It wasn't as though she wasn't prepared; she'd kept herself busy for the better part of the day with planning out timetables and making lists and looking after things and preparing things for the evening. It was true that she'd never been any sort of masterful event planner--that was her mother's area of expertise, not hers--but that was perfectly fine because this wasn't to be any sort of masterful event, anyway. Masterful events were things to be nervous about; this was just dinner and a friendly visit, and there was nothing nervewracking about that. Nothing at all.

Though in an odd sort of way, she almost wished it were a great party like her mother always planned, because then she'd have plenty of minor things to worry about, instead of the one major thing that had been creeping into her thoughts all day. Tablecloths and music and seating arrangements were much easier to worry about than the thought of whether or not Sam and Cain were going to like each other when they finally met in person. It wasn't as though she expected any great arguments or uncomfortable disagreements between the two, but it was a rather...unusual situation, then, wasn't it?

Ah, yes! Best friend, I'd like you to meet the boy whose father might very well be plotting to bring harm to me right now! Charmed, I'm sure. Would you like something to drink?

But no, she wasn't going to worry, and she certainly wasn't going to be nervous because there was nothing to worry about and no reason to be nervous. Everything was going to be fine. The place was clean and the table was set and everything was cooking and Sam had promised to leave the mortifying pictures of her tied up and squirming on the ground safely tucked away in his room. Good, everything would be fine. Just fine.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

[OOC: I dunno how you guys want to do this--multiple threads for different interactions or one big one or what; go nuts, I'm open for whatever works best. =D]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Sam was nervous. The only counts he had know about before were Chocula and the Count from Sesame Street and he was pretty sure neither of those would prepare him for meeting Cain.

He felt pressured to be on his best behavior even though Rosella had assured him that wasn't the case. Yeah, he acted normal around Rosella but that was different. Would Cain be offended if he treated the two of them like normal people? Not that he would have cared about that under normal circumstances, but he knew it meant a lot to Rosella for he and this Cain guy to get along, so he wanted to do his best.

He had chosen a nice pair of slacks and a polo shirt to wear. He figured that was nice enough without looking like he was trying too hard. Checking himself one last time in the mirror, Sam headed to the kitchen and dining area to see if Rosella needed any help.

"Rosella?" he called out. "You need a hand with anything?"

What she needed, honestly, was a good firm hug and a reassurance that there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about. But to say that out loud would be to admit that she was nervous, and she certainly wasn't. Not at all.

When Sam came in, Rosella glanced over toward the doorway and regarded him with a bright smile. "You look nice," she remarked, giving her own dress a quick glance to ensure that she hadn't spilled anything on it in the past few minutes. "The table's set already and there's lemonade getting cold in the fridge if you'd like some now, but other than that I think I'm all right, thank you."

She paused, then continued playfully, "I'd offer to let you chop the onions, you know, but I'm afraid we're not having any." It was an old joke, but a favorite, and it made her feel a little more at ease.

The warehouse always seemed to him an odd place to find Rosella living. He supposed that was Sam's suggestion. (Which of them had arrived first, anyway? Rosella, he supposed, but he had no way to be certain. He'd never met Sam, which, really, was a kind of shame.)

Still, he found himself walking towards that warehouse, one brief pause in a flower shop prior. No, it wasn't meant to be a formal occasion (nor had he dressed for one, as much as some people teased him for his everyday formality--to their eyes, at least). Likely Rosella had dressed the tables as she preferred. But one had to bring something for the hostess. Flowers would do.

And so, peculiar as it might have seemed to some, Cain, bearing a small armful of summer-bright flowers, came to knock on the door of the warehouse and waited for a response.

"And if we never have onions again it will be too soon," Sam replied, smiling at Rosella's joke.

"But seriously, we're all going to have a good time tonight," Sam said, sounding far more confident about that than he really felt. When there was a knock on the door, Sam motioned to her.

"Why don't you get that," he told her. He didn't want to admit he was a bit too nervous at the moment to go answer it.

[ooc: I don't know if either of you know, since I fail at telling people, but the warehouse is actually in the Underground just a short ways. Just an FYI.]

"Oh! All right. Watch the--well, everything, won't you?" she answered, motioning vaguely around the kitchen before wiping her hands on her skirt and setting off for the door.

There is nothing to be nervous about, she thought firmly, and strode confidently toward the door, giving the rooms one last glance-over as she went. No, it all looked fine, and the kitchen probably wouldn't burn down if she left it alone for a minute or two. Good.

Still, fussy as she was, her smile was genuine as she opened the door to greet Cain. "Good evening! You're just in time," she said cheerfully, stepping out of the way to let him in. "Do come in, won't you?"

[OOC: Is it really? Shoot, I always thought it was both, but I was going off the old map (http://community.livejournal.com/poly_extra/745734.html), which lists it as both over and underground. The more you know!]

Smiling in the doorway--and a genuine smile on his part as well, as genuine as Cain's smiles ever can be--stands Cain, with that armful of flowers.

"Good evening to you as well, Rosella."

He stepped around her, giving that habitual look-around that most everyone gives a strange house (ware-house or otherwise) when they first enter. Rude, perhaps, but almost instinctive. He couldn't help it. He had wondered about her, the place she lived, and this friend of hers.

'Friend'--yes, the thought had crossed his mind before that, given their situation, they were perhaps a bit more than friends. But there was nothing to give anything else away. There were no signs of there being anything more. So it must not be.

"Thank you, really, for inviting me. I've been looking forward to this."

Quietly, he offered the flowers towards her.

While Cain occupied himself with giving the interior of the Warehouse a once-over, Rosella took the opportunity to give Cain himself a careful appraisal. He seemed to have recovered well enough from the weekend's curse, and he was back to his usual collected, charming self--not a single hint of the pained, weak voice she'd heard over the Network. Good, that was one less thing to be worried about. Her curiosity about what exactly had happened that day hadn't diminished a bit, but her concern for his safety had been appeased, and that was something, anyway.

"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed, taking the flowers and raising them to her nose to catch a hint of the fragrance. "Thank you, they're just beautiful!" She'd have to find a vase to put them in. But first...

"Sam's in the kitchen," she continued, flashing a pleasant smile before taking a few steps in that direction. "It's right along this way, if you'll just follow me? Dinner's almost ready, but it'll be a few more minutes yet if you'd like to chat a bit, first. And would you like something to drink? There's lemonade, water, and soda on hand, but it's no trouble at all to put on some water for tea or coffee, if you'd prefer."

[OOC: No worries! ♥]

"Is he? Well, then, please, do lead on."

He followed contentedly. Informal suppers, and especially ones in the City, were a thousand times simpler than the ostensibly 'simple suppers' he'd endured--ones with more than one course, and the only reason they were called 'simple' at all was because they had fewer courses, or fewer things on the table, or were outdoors, or the hostess had some fantasy of being a French shepherdess. This was far better, even if he did feel overdressed and overly formal for these things. It had been bred into him and, even if Riff did say he was rather coarse and wont to break with convention as often as uphold it, it was still a habit.

Being invited into the kitchen! That's what made a City supper a thousand times better than a 'simple supper'. And already a chance to meet with Sam--that mysterious Sam, often mentioned but as yet unseen. And what would he be like? Best not to suppose, but he was beginning to imagine Rosella if she'd been born a boy--her brother, perhaps. They had to be alike. What else could Sam be like anyway?

"Lemonade would suit me very well. It seems the thing to have on a summer afternoon, don't you think?"

"He is, and with any luck, nothing's caught fire yet. Right this way," she remarked with a touch of amusement. They'd had their share of kitchen mishaps in the eleven months she'd spent here--one particular instance where they'd ended up cleaning cranberry sauce off the ceiling came to mind--but things always turned out, and it certainly wasn't as though Sam were completely inept in the kitchen. But as much as the humor helped to make her feel at ease, Rosella still couldn't help a slight pang of nervousness as she led the way to the kitchen. She just hoped they liked each other.

Upon reaching their destination, she first poked her head inside and remarked, "Sam?", giving him a moment's warning before ushering Cain into the room. Well. They'd made it this far; only a little more to go.

"Lord Cain Hargreaves," she said, as confidently as she could manage, "Allow me to introduce you to my best friend, Sam Witwicky." And oh, it was tempting to throw in a 'sir', and style him an honorary knight of Daventry, but no, she'd save that joke for later. "Sam, this is Cain, whom you've heard so much about."

And then, introductions complete, she promptly busied herself with the task of retrieving a glass and the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. It was really all up to the boys now, after all.

While Rosella went off to get the door, he stayed to watch over the kitchen. Which was a pretty simple task, all things considered. There was a pot of something cook on the stove and that was pretty much it. Sam had this.

Unfortunately, leaning against the stove he bumped the dial for one of the burners on the stove up to a higher setting. Not too long after there was a loud bubbling noise coming from the pot. A second after that water started boiling up out of the pot.

"No, no, no, no, no, no..." Sam said as he watched the water boil over. Scrambling frantically he lifted the pot off of the burner and grabbed a rag. He started to wipe up the spill for a split second until he felt the heat of the surface through the rag he had grabbed.

Hissing in pain, he dropped it and waved his hand in the air to cool it down and then sucked on his fingers for a moment. Fortunately, he wasn't burnt. Turning off the burning he started to more carefully clean up the mess that he had made. That's when Rosella came back in.

"Heeeeey there!" he said, quickly spreading his arms out and leaning back against the counter in an attempt to cover up the mess he had made. He started to reach out to shake the other man's hand but then realized if he moved his arms, it would reveal the mess.

"Nice to meet you," he added before giving a bit of a bow. Yeah, bow instead of a handshake, that would work. Right?

There was something going on in the kitchen, as the noise attested. But since Rosella wasn't making a run for it (or urging him to get out while he still could), he supposed it was all right. Surely Sam wasn't that inept in the kitchen. Just keep well away from everything, touch nothing, and everything would be all right. That's what Cain would do. He knew precious little of kitchens. One just kept out of the way, and snatched bites of the tastiest things when no one was watching.

Either way, here then was the kitchen, and herein was the fabled Sam...leaning against the counter. He seemed easy-going enough--as much as so many of the City residents from times after his own did.

But he still bowed, which amused Cain a bit. No, no one really knew how to deal with him, did they? And yet, Sam lived with a princess.

Never mind. They could build a new protocol in the City: City manners, a special sort designed around curses and exile.

"A pleasure to meet you as well," Cain answered, bowing back a little--it was what one did. "I've heard quite a bit about you from Rosella, but I'm glad to finally meet you."

It didn't take finely-honed powers of observation to figure out that something had gone wrong in the kitchen in her short absence; a glance or two at Sam's stance and behavior were more than enough to give it away, assuming one knew Sam well enough to pick out when he was attempting to hide something. But it wasn't as though they'd walked in on a complete distaster, either, and that was a relief. Now all that remained was to figure out exactly what had happened and somehow fix it without anyone noticing. And that meant creating a distraction.

Working quickly and efficiently, Rosella retrieved another glass, filled them both with lemonade from the fridge, and then made her rounds of the kitchen, offering the first to Cain and the second to Sam. That put her near enough to where he was standing to help cover up whatever it was he was trying to block from view--hmm, a rumpled rag, a moved pot, and a turned-off burner, then, was it?--and also provided the opportunity to give him a surreptitious, knowing nudge.

"Well, now that you've made each other's acquaintance, I'm afraid this is the part where I shoo you both out of the kitchen and keep you in suspense about what all I'm doing in here until dinner is served," she said, keeping her tone lighthearted as she grinned at them. "It won't be long, but for the time being, Sam, why don't you show Cain around the Warehouse a bit? I'm sure he'd like to see the cars, and I'll call when everything's ready."

They'd manage on their own, wouldn't they? That was rather the point of the whole evening, anyway--to give them an opportunity to get acquainted. And besides, the thought of trying to play hostess and cook at the same time sounded like a bit too much running around at the moment.

Not to mention, she still had to figure out what exactly had gone on while she'd been out.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Log: Ongoing

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject