entranceway | ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

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ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

[So, uh. This cooking thing.

But do you see that? The view's a little shaky at first, because he's still getting the hang of this technology thing, but there, for your viewing delight, Wonderland, is a microwave.

Well.

It used to be a microwave.

What it is now is more a column of smoke and melted plastic and burnt things, with the coppery shine of burnt tinfoil.

Oh, and the door's off to one side, and it shouldn't be twisted like that.

And yes, he actually read the instructions. And no, they didn't make a damn bit of sense.]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm fairly sure that's not what it's supposed to do when it's done.

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There are replacements. [There's a reason pirates have a stereotype, after all.]

::Ed looks down to strip off his glove and then get his sleeve up a decent distance on his arm before bringing in up into view.::

Yes, there are.

[Touchy, isn't she? He mulls over that a moment, in a way somewhat amused. She no doubt didn't realize she acted exactly as he expected, considering.] Simply an observation, Missus O'Connell. Me mum was Irish. No need to hang the jib over it. But a colonial, then, I take it? [Because America as America is only that, at least to him.

But the question makes him laugh despite himself. Pirate slang such as that coming from someone very obviously not a pirate...It's amusing. And he halfway wonders if, given she knows that, could she quote the Code at him like certain others, though he honestly hopes not. It's one thing for a girl on what she thinks is grand adventure to think she has the upper hand...This is something different.]

Originally signed on with the merchant marines, out of Bristol. [Which, if anything, certainly explains that painful West Country accent, that, unbeknownst to him is the future's hallmark of a pirate.] But, aye. Been an Admiral of the Black a long time. So there's no need to mince words over it.

[Just a headtilt and a slight squint.]

Now where did you get that.

One of the closets. Needed it to replace one that was made for me. Dad tried, he really did, but he's not an automail mechanic so while what he built is fine for day to day shit, it's not up to the sort of things I tend to get myself into.

[Ange glances over at him.]

We think the same way, then.

[The kettle whistles and she lifts it off of the burner.]

Do you want some tea?

So the closets do spit more out than blades and pistols. Interesting, that.

[That earns an honestly amused snort, as he glances to the kettle. After all, when's the last time someone offered him tea? He can't begin to remember.

But after a beat, he inclines his head slightly.]

I suppose I will, if it's all the same then.

[That reaction doesn't go unnoticed, but Ange doesn't address it immediately, looking for some cups instead.]

You can also use the oven to heat food. It takes longer than the microwave though.

::Ed rolls his eyes.::

My brother got ours to produce kittens for him. They give us pretty much whatever we want, provided it's not a personal belonging.

[Deadpan,] Did you check the weight setting?

[Colonial? Sure, we'll go with that. Even Rick doesn't know. He was thrown into a Cairo orphanage at a very young age, the poor thing. Evelyn nods along to keep the rapport going and heats up some olive oil in the pan.

Much like the young lady Barbossa is remembering, Evelyn spent a great deal of her youth reading. That ravenous desire for both knowledge and adventure led her to multiple books on the subject of piracy and those men who flouted the law. Her older brother indulged the occasional fantasy and 'walked the plank' whenever she demanded it, but Barbossa can take comfort knowing that Evelyn is a little rusty on her knowledge of "the Code."]

I rather like mincing,

[she replies amusedly, wearing a smile and rolling the chicken in the flour to coat each piece evenly.]

Grew up in Mentmore, just north of Aylesbury. We visited Bristol once, but I don't remember it very well. If we ever traveled, we went out by way of the Thames.

You get used to the magical provisions after a while.

[Cut him a little slack, he hasn't tried anything beyond getting himself armed.]

Aye, of course not. Would be too easy, then, wouldn't it. And the price for such be far too steep.

[A beat.] What weight setting.

I rather think not, mate. Some of us, I'm sure, aren't so eager to trust in such, especially given the situation.

Yes, I'm at least aware of how an oven actually functions.

[There's a bit of tartness in his tone, and he leans against a counter, shifting a bit.]

Though p'raps that will be the better method in the future, considering.

Aye, but a spade's a spade, as they say. Pirate be not a dirty word, and you'll nary hurt me feelings. [The sarcasm is light, but still present. More than anything, however, he's simply amused. The various reactions he's received to his profession...Well, it's been something.]

I know it, vaguely. I'm afraid my time has been spent more in places far from England, as she tends to not smile upon me kind too much, unless we're working for the Crown. [The distaste for that is evident, because really, that's something he won't ever do. Won't be a picaroon, either, as that, in his opinion, is the lowest a pirate can go.] The Caribbean, Singapore, and the like.

[And all with the tattoos to prove it.]

Yeah, it'd be nice to have a couple of things back. Although for the one, my brother kind of accidentally broke it before we even got here.

Well, good luck finding something to eat and
not bringing down the kitchen in the process!

[Ange glances up from preparing the tea for them both.]

...If you know how to use the oven, can you show me?

Singapore, really?

[Evelyn's never been, but then, it's still considered a haven for disreputable activities and peoples on the outskirts of a thriving port city for rubber exportation. The furthest afield she's graced with her presence is Greece, and even then the visit was brief and most of her time was spent enjoying the ruins.]

The only other territory I know well is Egypt, but I doubt it's ever been in your captain's log.

I can surpass you there, I'm afraid.

Mine is sitting at the bottom of the Locker with the fool who got her eaten.

[Oh. Yeah, nope. He really should point out the distinctions once in a while, shouldn't he.]

I didn't mean that oven. I mean ovens in general, as I'm assuming that one doesn't require wood. Though I suppose the general concept would be the same, wouldn't it?

Only if You learn to mind One's Own Business.

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ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

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