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-does this do? What about this? Helllooo?

[The video feed begins with a close-up of a gauntleted thumb and then twists nauseatingly around until there's a giant eyeball... that gradually diminishes in size as its owner pulls back from the device. Once it's farther away it reveals a large man in heavy armour with a sword at his hip and a shield on his back, looking rather put out. Alistair frowns down at the thing for a moment then shrugs and begins to speak.]

I heard I can use this thing to talk to people. People far away. I don't know if I believe it, I've never heard of magic like that. But this way it doesn't look like I'm crazy and talking to myself. Maybe.

I don't talk to myself normally of course. That would be crazy. But I do talk to myself - and little... boxes - when I get lost and wind up in a strange place I've never seen before. Especially when I'm supposed to be somewhere else doing something important. Then I might talk to myself.

[But only because he hasn't found anyone else to talk to yet and he's still trying to figure out what's going on. He isn't buying anything he's heard so far so he's reduced to thinking out loud at a little box.]

Well, I think I know what's going on here. This is the Fade, is it? I'm stuck in the Fade again.

What do you think box? Am I right? [His voice turns high pitched and squeaky and the video judders about as the device is waggled back and forth.] 'I think you are Alistair, you handsome fiend you, you must be in the Fade! Now we just have to go find the eeevil demon that trapped us here and make it let you go!'

[And back to a normal voice, the video steadying again.] I'm glad you agree and I am looking rather handsome today, aren't I? Now, let's go find that demon!

[And, companion... box in hand - and still broadcasting - he strides boldly off in search of something that looks like a demon, keeping up a running commentary until someone decides to interrupt him.]

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[ Sharon knows that it isn't fine. There'd been one day in her life in particular where she'd lost so many people, and as much as she would want them to be safe and alive again, having them that way at Wonderland would be a lie. At least Peggy is still alive back home. She's not sure what she would do if ~~Fury~~ someone dead back home showed up. ]

I'm not in any hurry to try it out, either. Death seems like a pain in the ass, even if it is temporary.

Dying would ruin your day. [He chuckles, good humour mostly restored. It's been long enough that thinking about Duncan doesn't hurt so much and it helps that he can distract himself with the here and now.]

Soooo.... You didn't really eat food that came from a closet, did you?

[Yes he's back to that. Because he eats like a horse and would still draw the line at eating things that came from a closet. Unless he was really hungry.]

[ Well. He certainly seems to bounce back easy. ]

I did. I had to try it.

It's not all bad, but I wouldn't recommend it, either. Someone I know suggested that it was fine to get ingredients from the closet, but I'm a terrible cook, so that doesn't really help me much.

Right. I think I'll stick to food that comes from a kitchen. Or a campfire.

I could cook something for you if you like.

[Not something fancy - or even particularly good - but he had yet to poison anyone when it was his turn to cook for the group so that had to count for something.]

[ To say she's surprised by the offer is an understatement. No one's offered to cook for her since she was a child. And it's sad, really, because she's such a terrible cook that she would have taken every offer made to her. ]

Really?

Uh, I might take you up on that. I'm not a great cook.

[ She hasn't killed anyone with her cooking yet, but something is definitely a little bit off with everything she makes. She can handle sandwiches. That's something, at least. ]

[That is a much happier response than his cooking usually gets. So she really must be bad. And has no idea what she's just gotten herself in for.]

It's a deal! Just don't expect anything fancy from me. I only know traditional Ferelden cooking.

[Which honestly translates as 'bland and stodgy' but it is edible. Cooking hadn't exactly been an important skill for him as a stableboy or in the abbey so the fact he can manage at all must count for something, right?]

[ She's starting to get the feeling she should be a little suspicious. Maybe a little concerned. ]

What's Ferelden cooking like?

It's good! Simple. Not all frilly and pretentious but honest, down-to-earth food.

[He pauses for effect, grin widening before continuing-]

It's really easy to cook like a Ferelden - just stew your ingredients together until they're a grey, bland mush. Everyone tells me it's supposed to put hair on your chest.... which may not be something you want now that I say it.

Oh! [ Try to sound enthused. Try to sound enthused. ] Great!

[ Urgh. Gray, bland mush. So... basically something she could make for herself. On the bright side, at least she knows she'll probably be able to eat it with little difficulty. ]

What, you don't think I could pull off the hair-on-my-chest look?

[Now that is more of the response he's used to getting to his cooking, no matter how hard she's trying to sound enthusiastic. It only makes Alistair more amused - he knows exactly how bad he is.]

Hmmm, I'm trying to picture it and it's not a good look I have to say.... [Wait, did he just say he was-] That came out wrong. Please don't get mad!

[He holds up his hands defensively, still grinning cheerfully.]

[ She stares at him, then at her chest and back again. She doesn't take offense, though. How can she? She agrees. A hairy chest wouldn't do her any favors. And not just because it would draw attention to how, well, not well-endowed she is.

She grins at the feed, even chuckling before catching herself. Still, her eyes continue to dance. ]

So you're a bad cook and an asshole. I'll keep it in mind.

Ouch! That really hurts I'll have you know!

[He puts his hand to his heart and affects a wounded look that does nothing to disguise how much he's enjoying himself.]

I'm not that bad, really. I'm a perfect gentleman, if you can overlook how often my foot ends up in my mouth.... I can't argue about the cooking though but by your own confession you can't point fingers there!

[ Sharon does her best to act affronted. ]

Maybe your cooking tastes better to you because you keep putting your foot in your mouth.

I, however, try to avoid putting my foot in my mouth, which means I am not even more concerned about your cooking.

That... could be true. There's only one way to find out. We have to see who's the worst - best - cook between us. It's only fair!

[He doesn't particularly enjoy cooking really but this promises to be fun so why not?]

And we should make a wager. Loser has to do something for the winner. And eat their own food.

[He is so going to regret this later.]

[ Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. She'd gotten herself into this one, hadn't she? Just... stepped right in it like a rookie at a crime scene. ]

What's the something the loser has to do for the winner?

[Yuuup. And Alistair looks so pleased with the situation too.]

Hmmm, how about.... The loser has to serve the winner for a week? As a maid or manservant kind of thing.

[Not that he's really comfortable with being served anything except dinner but it's something he won't mind doing if he loses and it's the best he can come up with right then.]

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