Kitchen Plottings
Who Doktah, Metan, Th'ero, Thys
What Everyone is in the kitchens for different reasons; things are discussed, teased and plotted.
When Spring-Summer, Turn 2711
Where Kitchens, Fort Weyr

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Fort Weyr - Kitchens
After rising up an imposing flight of steps you enter an elaborate vaulted ceiling. The delicious smells that gently infuse the air drift out from this portion of the cavern. The head cook, Rickard, bustles about creating the masterpiece dishes that the weyr as a whole consumes. His extensive collection of prized copper cookware hangs upon their custom-made racks, reflecting soft light back out into the cavern proper. A handful of sub-cooks and helpers are engaged in an variety of food preparations, moving briskly but efficiently about their work. A pair of spit canines trot in their wicker wheels, continuously turning the spits with their slowly roasting joints that hiss and crackle over the fires.


What better place to hideout from a long day than the kitchens? It's quiet after the dinner rush and there's only a small handful of kitchen staff present still cleaning up from the day and preparing for tomomrrow. Metan's squirreled himself to the side of the kitchen staff, working his way through a bowl of scraps as he selects food for his animal companions. He's left both outside of the kitchen space, one eye given to the spit-canines to know that either his own canine or firelizard may start mischief. "What'd you make soup from all the scraps?" he complains to no one in particular as he selects what meat he can from the bone pile."

Doktah has her own little plans that require a visit to the kitchens. Not to mention she has her own pair of firelizards that need dinner for themselves. The blue and green escape from within her coat as soon as the TechCrafter candidate steps into the kitchens, scurrying over to the bone pile to get a few nibbles and interfere with Metan's efforts. Doktah, seeing this, frowns a little. "I really have to teach them proper manners…"

Enter the Weyrleader! Only Th'ero isn't dressed in his formal gear and doesn't have his knot pinned to his shoulder either (shh, don't tell Nyalle!). Why? Because he's there but not "technically" there; meaning he's not on duty and doesn't care to be bothered. It's not unusual either for him to just walk into the kitchens like he owns the place. Most of the workers don't even so much as bat an eye because this must be a common enough thing that the shock wore off Turns ago. Here's here to gather food and those who have been around Fort long enough know that usually means the bronzerider is looking to bar himself away in his weyr for a good chunk of time. Best not to ask why… Oh look! Two white-knots and one of them a familiar face. "Evening, Candidates."

While candidates may have to dig through scraps bowls to find the best bits, some people are lucky enough to be able to just ask for such things to be set aside. Like Thys, for example. Sitting there right next to where Metan is rummaging, and where Doktah has now joined him, is a container with her name right there on it, filled with yummy bits and pieces for her firelizards and her canine. Her bronze firelizard is actually there on her shoulders, curled around her neck like a content scarf, his head drooped down towards the tray she's carrying that bears decidedly human food - cakes, sandwiches, and an assortment of biscuits. She wanders over to where the candidates are, passing Th'ero and dipping her head to him. "Weyrleader. Candidates… could someone please pass me that there tub?" The aforementioned one with her name on it.

Metan's got a grin for the pair of firelizards, not bothered in the least that they've come to pick at the scraps with him. He's even got a piece to toss their way. "Nah, it's their nature to see food and want it. It's why I keep the brown I've got away from things as much as I can. You can train them, sure, but only so far." He shrugs, easygoing as usual, and waves Doktah over with a thigh-piece of meat-scraps and bone. "C'mon. The cook's left me this big bowl to go through," he indicates what's spread out before him on the table. "But it isn't much." Metan falls back to picking meat off the bone and into the small bowl he's set aside for the scraps. He doesn't acknowledge Th'ero's arrival until the Weyrleader heads their way. He glances at the lack of knot and lifts a brow, feeling flippant enough to tell the bronzerider, "You know I puked my guts out. A lot. I'm not a fan of that ale you gave me." He shakes his head and sighs, "I thought I had such the tolerance." He looks to Thys and then to the tub with both brows lifted. He's elbow-deep in bone parts so he holds them up as a reason for not grabbing her tub. "Doktah'll help you." He's so sweet, volunteering his friends!

The firelizards gobble up the little morsel Metan sends their way. The blue manages a brief grateful chirp, but soon they're fully occupied with devouring everything they can get their hands on. Doktah seems about to head over to them when the unexpected voices of Thys and Th'ero distract her. "Uh…" Then Metan so helpfully volunteers her. Well, it's not like she can say no now. She grabs the tub and holds it out. "This one?" She asks, despite the obviousness of the answer.

"Not many would drink an entire pint of Black Damnation in one shot, like you did," Th'ero answers Metan's flippant greeting with level dryness but there may be just a *hint* of humour there. "Am I supposed to feel sympathy that you puked?" There's a bit of a smirk, then, as he goes about his business of collecting this and that. "Evening Thys," He doesn't ask what brings her here too, the answer being right there when Doktah holds out that tub.

"Yes please, Dotkah! Just slip it on the end there." Next to the sandwiches on the tray Thys holds, or wherever it'll fit. Then there's the exchange between Metan and Th'ero, and Thys stares wide-eyed at the candidate. Then she laughs. "Oh, Faranth, no you didn't." And she laughs some more - so that the items on her tray are in danger of falling off. "One pint of that stuff's enough to floor you until you build up for more, and that's with just drinking it slow!" Around her neck, bronze Smith raises his head to peer at Doktah, making a sort chirrupy sound. Hello, lady with food.

Metan's got another few scraps he'll toss the blue's way. He's got a softspot for animals. He watches Doktah offer up the tub with a smirky-up-turn of lips. "I suppose the real rider's around here get help from the cooks whilst us lowly white-knot folk need to do their dirty work," he asides to Doktah, winking at her before he adds to Thys, "Please, tell us your ways. Our creatures will appreciate more than these," he waggles a bone for emphasis, "I'm sure." He side-eyes Th'ero, "I believe I was already drunk and maybe there was a bet in there. Jeltje would probably also say my head was bashed in and it made me stupid." He sighs in a dramatic fashion, meant to be humorous, as he levels a 'look' at Thys. "These are wide words that have come to late for me, I'm afraid."

Doktah very, very carefully sets the tub upon the tray. The wobbliness of it all when Thys starts laughing is a little worrying to her. She gives the bronze a little smile, then quickly takes a step back just in case things start toppling over. The discussion of drinking has her intrigued. "… I'd like to try this mystery alcohol. Er, after candidacy, of course. It sounds… educational." Theorem and Postulate, her firelizard pair, have now resorted to gnawing on bones.

Th'ero's smirk only stays well in place as he pretends to focus on stocking up a basket with goodies. ALL the good stuff! Because no one will stop the Weyrleader if he wants his own personal feast — or maybe he's really pissed off Kimmila and he's trying to, y'know, make up for it through dinner. "I can confirm that you were, in fact, already drunk." He won't remind Metan of the bets though. Nope. A brow quirks as he stuffs another wedge of cheese into that basket. "You know Jeltje?" Do tell. Glancing to Doktah, the Weyrleader's smirk switches more to a vague smile. "It certainly teaches a harsh lesson in regret if not handled properly. Just ask Metan, here and Thys would know too. Wouldn't you, weyrwoman?" Oh yeah, he went there. You're welcome, Thys!

"The trick," Thys says to Metan, amused by his side-comment to Doktah, "is to butter up the right people just enough… or to wear one of these." She tilts her head so she can point to her knot with her shoulder, that's partially hidden by her draped firelizard. "And I'm so sorry to say you're not going to be wearing gold in your knot any time soon." Thys winks at him, and grins a thank you to Doktah for her help. Th'ero, though? He gets a smirk. "Oh, I can handle your brew, and you know it." If she could elbow-nudge him she would, but there's a tray in her hands that would probably get spilt if she tried. "Did you know," still to the Weyrleader, "that it's Inri's turnday coming up? Perhaps we could throw a party and allow the candidates a drink of their choice." Which would be Black Damnation, of course. "Perhaps the candidates could organise it, as a teamwork exercise?"

"I don't know why you'd even want to try it after you heard the words, 'I puked', from me but sure, Doktah," Metan says to his fellow candidate with a chuckle and a crooked grin, "When all this is done I'm sure the Weyrleader'd love to share it with you. If only to set you up for failure." With the two firelizards set to bone gnawing, Metan returns to the dirty business of scrap picking. He gestures to Th'ero for emphasis as the bronzerider delivers more reasons not to drink the stuff they are discussing. As to Jeltje, there's a smug-look to Metan as he adds, "Oh, we've known each other for a while." Wink-wink, nudge-nudge, only nothing more than a smirk is given to Th'ero with that hint. Thys earns a guffaw from Metan, and then he asides to Doktah, "I think they want our slave labor to throw a party for their friend." Cheeky-fellow, that he is, he adds to Thys, "Gold certainly isn't a color that'd look good on my shoulder. Besides, you're the shining star with that here, anyway."

Doktah keeps an eye on her firelizards while she elaborates on her interest in the drink. "That's what makes it sound intriguing. It apparently causes terrible physical reactions, yet you all consume it regardless. It must have some merits to warrant such behavior." The idea of a party is met with a slightly nervous sort of look. "I… am not always fond of crowds, but… I suppose we do need to learn to work as a team. I would like if we all got along." Something about her tone suggests she's had concerns along those lines.

"Not sure if I wholly believe you, Thys," Th'ero's tone remains dry as ever but there's humour there. He's laughing on the inside, folks! "Seem to recall a meeting, once, that you weren't fairing so well?" To be fair? He's shown up hungover (and mad as hell) to one too. As for her suggestion of organizing a party for Inri? He'll nod his head in agreement, which means he also agrees to lift the ban on alcohol for the Candidates. "One drink shouldn't do any harm. It won't be me who needs convincing on that." Since he's all for letting the Candidates screw up on their own. Weed out the weak; it's always been his preference. He really is a terrible person sometimes, folks. "Have you now?" This to Metan, concerning Jeltje and his brows will knit as he gives the younger man a more scrutinizing look. Oh, he got that hint behind that smirk. "None of that's to happen. Just a kind reminder?" Add 'spoil sport' to the list of things the Weyrleader is. "It's simply a very strong ale," he explains in turn to Doktah. "Some can stomach it, most can't stand the taste. I've built a tolerance to it and I suppose it's become a bit of a dare for anyone to try it and see if they can withstand it." With the basket now filled, he'll start to head back the way he came but not without dipping his head in a respectful nod of farewell. "If you'll all excuse me?" He is "business" to take care of. Just like that, he's gone and Faranth only knows what he's going to do with that amount of food.

To Th'ero, before he leaves, Thys gives a look. "I'd been mixing," she stresses, though she gets that he's teasing. Rolling her eyes, she shifts the weight of her tray in her hands and then looks from one candidate to the other, smirking. "One drink. We'll make it your choice, but remember you'll have to deal with any consequences that may arise… especially if you end up in someone else's cot." Metan. She's looking at you. "Anyway," now that the Weyrleader's gone, "it would seem we've come to an agreement." 'We've' meaning Th'ero and herself. "You'll be tasked with organising Inri's turnday party. I'll arrange for a formal order to come through tomorrow, but chat amongst yourselves tonight. Work out who will be good at doing what. And remember that it has to be fabulous. And that the drinks have to be good. Inri's a bartender, you know." She looks down at her tray, lips pursed thoughtfully. "The food should be good, too." Is that her stomach growling? Or is it just Smith making sleepy noises? "I'm going to ask to see a party proposal from you all two days from now."

Doktah looks a little confused by some of this conversation. "None of what's to happen?" She's a little slow to puzzle out innuendo, but the clarification from Thys helps. Her eyes widen. "Oooh… you're sleeping with Jeltje?" Tactful, Doktah. Tactful. "Good for you. She seems nice." Then she ends up saddled with a new assignment. A baffling one. "A… party proposal? I'm not familiar with such documents. Is there a style guide?"

"Someone's been mean to you?" Metan demands of Doktah with that narrowed-in focus of someone who may be a brother to younger siblings. "Who?" He grabs a rag to wipe off his hands on and shoves the remaining bone scraps towards Doktah's firelizards. It'd seem his small bowl will feed his creatures with whatever amount it's boasting. He's dragged back to lighter fare as he levels his gaze on Th'ero and looks genuine when he shares, "None of 'that' has ever happened. She's a special woman. Since you've met her, I'm sure you can see she's not someone who'll mess around with someone like me in that way. She's solid." And then the Weyrleader's bowing out and Metan can't help but aside to Doktah once the 'Big Man''s cleared the room. "I think we're supposed to be scared of him." He looks to Thys with a grin, "And clearly, you. Those seem like some pretty serious obstacles to overcome. You're assuming we can organize an entire group. Unless you're putting Doktah in charge?" He's not volunteering. "She's a crafter. I'm sure she can handle the finer details." And to clear the air on what he might've been trying to bro-hint at with Th'ero as a 'joke'. "No, I am not sleeping with Jeltje. She'd punch me in the jaw."

Did Thys miss Doktah saying someone's treating her badly? The goldrider blinks at her when Metan brings it up, her expression concerned. "Doktah, if anyone's treating you unfairly, you have every right to speak to one of us. Send me a firelizard," since the girl clearly has a couple, "and I'll ensure it's dealt with. We don't tolerate that sort of behaviour. And it would seem," given Metan's glowing description, "that this Jeltje lady is someone to meet. I've not come across her yet." She jiggles her tray again, as it's starting to get heavy. "Oh, you'll all have to agree on someone to lead your organising. If Doktah is the best suited," Thys grins and winks at the girl she Searched - favouritism, maybe? "then you'll choose her. Someone will have to take the lead, though, and they'll be reporting in to me daily to tell me how things are progressing. And…" Her brown eyes fix on Metan, one brow raised. "I'm not scary until you give me reason to be."

Doktah looks at Metan and blinks a little. "What? Oh." She shakes her head quickly. "No, no one here. Just…" She looks a little nervous again. "I… I was a candidate at Igen recently. The group didn't get along. Not really. Some of that was probably my fault. I don't want that to happen again." She looks to Thys with a little bit of a nervous smile. "I promise, if there was a problem with anyone here, I would say something. Everyone has been lovely." She tilts her head at the rest of the information given. "Is that how courting is done in Fort? How violent." Is she joking? Hard to tell with Doktah. Then she finds she's being roped into party planning. The words sound complimentary, but the bottom line is she's being put in charge of a big, scary task. "I… suppose I could at least find a methodical, efficient approach." Because all the best parties are known for their methodical and efficient nature.

"I doubt it was your fault alone, Doktah," Metan answers with a shake of his head and a glance towards Thys. Back him up here? He continues, "So long as no one's being rude to you. I haven't made an effort to get to know many of the other candidates. If I've got to sick Sister on them to bite a pants leg or two, I'll do it." He looks to Thys and her heavy tray and then back to Doktah. "Doktah should lead us," he decides in a tone that seems to be intending to end the conversation. He reaches for his bowl and drags it closer. "I'm sure my canine and 'lizard are about ready to eat each other, so I really should go." He pauses, finally giving a chuckle. "Courting? Is that what you'd call it? You should ask Jeltje." He's not going to hang around for any further chance at interrogation or signing-up for party-throwing. He gives Thys a quick salute, a wink to Doktah, and then he's turning his back and heading out the door. Maybe he's fleeing. Most likely he's fleeing. But he's doing so with a smile and a jaunt to his step. So he can't have been that scared.

Thys agrees with Metan telling Doktah that it couldn't be just her fault. "It takes two to tango, Doktah, no-one is ever truly the only one to blame. And since everyone here is lovely, I'd say screw that past experience. Forget about it. Enjoy yourself here." She can't salute Metan as he leaves due to her hands being full, but she does dip her head to him in a farewell. Then, she looks back at Doktah. "If you think you can organise the party, then go for it. I'm not going to put that responsibility on anyone's head; it's for you all to figure out, whether that's by debating your way through it or pulling straws." The goldrider smiles warmly, then gets glassy-eyed as she speaks with Rhenesath. "I've got company checking up on how long it takes to pick up food," she explains with a roll of her eyes. "I'm the one who's starving, and he's the one chasing me? Men. Right?" She laughs again, this time keeping the tray more steady. "You have a lovely evening, Doktah. I'm around, if you ever want to talk… about anything." Doktah is given the same head-nod that Metan got, then Thys turns smartly on her heel to make her way out into the bowl.


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