Participants:
| Scene Title | Feast! |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Breakfast with a fugitive. And Batman. |
| Date | May 24, 2011 |
Magnes' Apartment
"I've never really made French toast before." Magnes admits, wearing a White Lantern t-shirt with his jeans this particular morning. His kitchen is a bit narrow, with a counter on each side, but it's spacious enough for a few people to move around at least.
With her explaining French toast, he's gathering the ingredients from cabinets and the fridge, seeming to have a rather well-stocked kitchen. "My mother did some cooking, but nothing too serious. My father is like Archie Bunker without the racism, even if my mother managed to have a career."
Monica wears the same thing she was in when she went to sleep, his shirt and her own black pants. But at least she's kicked off her shoes by now. Her burns feel a little worse today, so her one arm is hanging useless at her side for now. "French toast was part of Sunday breakfast at the Dawson house. French toast, eggs, biscuits and gravy, bacon, sausage… Nana never believed in too much healthy food on Sunday mornings."
She's gathering the ingredients, hunting for bowls and spoons and such as they chat. "Everybody's got a first time. I'll teach you."
Magnes was just getting a glass of water when she said that last bit, and spits into the sink when the words register in his mind. Of course his mind adds context shortly after, and he wipes his mouth laughs lightly, trying to brush the little incident off. "I could do biscuits from scratch! Oh, man, I could do biscuits with bacon in them… or maybe biscuits inside of bacon…"
It takes Monica's mind a second to subtract context, so there's a little pause before she tosses a dish towel at him. "Guys," is her huffed comment. But playfully so. "Hey, if you want to make bacon biscuits, go for it. It's been a while since I could really cook much of anything. Been sort of on the camping out level of culinary arts. Which is a bit like being on the fingerpainting level of traditional art, frankly."
He smiles and grabs the towel from his head, sitting it on the counter. "Go nuts, use whatever you want. Just because we're not in Atlantic City doesn't mean we can't make the most of every moment." Magnes is already grabbing flour and other ingredients to begin working on the biscuits in a bowl. "It took me a while to stop turning everything into pizza. A few years ago I'd be trying to make pizza biscuits right now."
"Pizza was just about everything I ate my freshman year of college. So I'm with you there. But I never did try to wrap everything in bacon," Monica says, giving him a crooked smile. It's odd, but she seems to be pretty stubborn about opening things and cracking eggs and mixing stuff on her own, even though she's not using her other arm. "But I suppose I can see the appeal."
"I wrap things in bacon when appropriate. Except with pizza and other Italian food, I've never been too great at doing subtle tastes. So when I have to make a biscuit I take extreme measures." Magnes points to her arm briefly, and she can feel the burned one lighten a bit. "But what's with Canadian bacon? It's like, ham…"
"Well, there's real Canadian bacon and then there's what we call Canadian bacon and that is just ham. Don't ask me how that happened." Monica looks over at him when she feels his power working, but she doesn't have a problem with that much help, at least. "And don't ask me what real Canadian bacon is, either, I just know what we call Canadian bacon isn't the real deal." Stepping over to put a skillet on a burner, she puts some butter down before she starts dipping the bread into her whisked concoction.
"That's crazy, I mean, I knew what French toast was, but I didn't think you just literally dipped it in… whatever you just dipped it in." Magnes seems a bit fascinated as he continues to knead his biscuits after her explanation of Canadian bacon. "Maybe we should try to find the real stuff some time. I learned a lot about real and fake things, but we never had Canadian bacon on the pizza menu. I never exactly saw a huge demand for it, but somewhere in the city…"
"It's eggs and milk. Cinnamon and a bit of orange. And yep, you soak it in for a bit, then sorta toast it in butter." And the skillet does a fair amount of sizzling as she starts sliding the pieces of bread into it. Monica ends up stepping back from the stove, though, because the heat doesn't feel too great on her arm at the moment. "I bet we could find some of the real thing. We're pretty close to the boarder. Not like down in New Orleans. Impossible to find down there."
"I've never gone to New Orleans, I hear food is very cajuny down there. Though almost everything I know about the place is from Gambit appearances in X-Men comics." Magnes starts to cut the dough into sections, then roll it in strips of bacon before he dashes a few spices over it, then on to a tray they go!
"Excuse me." is said before they're slid into the oven, and he stands up straight to back out of her way again. "The next time we go on a trip, we should go somewhere exotic…"
"It's not all Gambit-y, but there's a lot of Cajun, lots of jazz, a lot of French influence. Jambalaya. It's… a really interesting place. Lots of characters running around." Monica pivots out of his way, only to step back in to flip the toast before she looks over at him again. "Somewhere exotic? I can't exactly get on a plane or cross a boarder, so I hope you've got something in the continental US in mind."
"Hey, this isn't forever, your name will be cleared one day, I have faith that it'll be in the near future, somehow." Magnes starts to dig through the fridge, trying to decide what to drink when the food is ready. "Anywhere in the world, where should we go when you can?"
"You know. I had someone tell me recently he was trying to change things so I don't end up… in prison or whatever," prison, concentration camp, to-may-to to-mah-to, "And I'd like to think it's possible, I really do. But facts are… I'm not planning on playing nice. So my name being cleared would only last so long until it got uncleared again. Plus, I'm pretty sure the terrorist thing would stick me on the No Fly list forever, cleared or not." Monica is, if nothing else, practical on this particular point.
"You know, I never thought much about travel. Growing up, I didn't even think I'd be leaving New Orleans much. New York was pretty much the only place I ever really thought about going." And she already got there, obviously. "So I'm not sure."
"If you get captured, I'll break you right out, I don't care how. Besides, we can always take a cruise, which would be even funner than a plane… hey, that's a great idea! We should just go on a cruise ship." Magnes finally settles on classic orange juise, sitting the carton up on to the counter. "To like, Brazil. Traveling with you is fun, you always know how to turn a situation around. I've never had a bad time with you."
"Then we'll both be on the wanted list," Monica says, but her smile is touched all the same. "A cruise, huh? Rio de Janeiro? A little surfing— Do you surf?" She can, thanks to a weekend of surfing competitions she watched on TV, but it's a skill she doesn't get to use… well, ever. "Well, I don't like wasting time being upset. I try to make the best of whatever's going on."
"I don't mind being on the wanted list with you, at least we'd be free." Magnes heads out of the kitchen now, though they can still easily talk. He's digging through movies, trying to choose something. "I've never tried surfing, I imagine with my ability it wouldn't be too hard. I've only visited a beach once, earlier this year. I've never even gone to an amusement park before, unless you count Coney Island."
"I don't know if I'd call it free. It is in some ways. But, you know, right now you could go to a hospital and not get tossed in a hole if you got your arm set on fire. So, it's debatable which of us is more free at the moment." Monica smirks a little there, but all in all, she's quite accepting of her status. "I do sometimes miss being a bodyguard. It was the perfect job. And it lasted less time than most of my jobs, which is saying something."
Reaching over to turn off the burner and pull the toast off the skillet and onto a couple plates, Monica tilts her head a bit. "Maybe we should skip the cruise and just head down to Florida. Lots of beach, lots of amusement parks. To tell you the truth, I've never been to one, either."
"Maybe my father could help, I mean, he has government sway, he's an Institute recruiter. And as bad as he can be sometimes, if I just go 'Well, I like this girl, except, well, she's a fugitive', maybe he'll pull strings. But we should probably wait until you're not ready to blow anything else up." Magnes holds up a DVD, adding, "Batman: Subzero!"
He slides said DVD in, then returns to the oven so he can remove the biscuits and add them to the plate with the French toast. "So what kind of eggs should we make to go with all this?"
"Hey, I don't blow things up. That's too Messiah for me," Monica says with a chuckle. "And no offense to your dad or anything, but from what I've seen of the institute's work, I'm not sure that's the kinda help I want. Or the kinda place I want to owe a favor to."
When he comes back in the kitchen, she sheds the frown and smiles gently. "I usually just make scrambled with cheese, but are you feeling more adventurous this morning? Poached? Eggs Benedict? We could use the biscuits."
"I just try to make the best of my situation, being the son of a guy in the Institute." Magnes stares at the biscuits, looking a bit confused, then looks over at her. "How are we gonna use biscuits? I'm a bit confused…"
"I suppose it does have its uses. I never had family connections like that to tug on." Monica smiles a bit wider at his confusion, though. "Eggs benedict is like… a McGriddle. Sort of. An open faced McGriddle. But better, obviously."
"So uh, how do we start?" Magnes asks as he seems to get a bit helpless in the face of eggs. He hasn't done much other than omelettes. "I'm used to knowing my way around a kitchen, so I feel a bit dumb not understanding something as simple as eggs."
"Well, cut a couple of those biscuits in half, put some ham or bacon on them, cover it with poached eggs and— well it's supposed to be hollandaise sauce. But we can fudge it. My brother likes them with ketchup, for example." Monica steps over to bump her hip into his lightly. "Or we could keep it simple. Eggs are pretty much good whatever you do to them."
"Well the biscuits already have the bacon, so we can go with the poached eggs and… we'll figure out a sauce, I don't think I have hollandaise sauce laying around." Magnes smiles as she bumps into him, then starts to cut the biscuits in half. "We're definitely gonna have enough to eat for a whole movie."
"Most people don't, but we'll make due!" Monica gets things settled to cook, boiling water, cracking eggs and the like, when his comment makes her grin crookedly. "A feast lasts longer than popcorn," she remarks as she starts the finishing touches to a meal that would make Alfred proud.