Meals For Millions


benji_icon.gif howard_icon.gif lynette2_icon.gif quinn2_icon.gif sable_icon.gif shannon_icon.gif

Scene Title Meals for Millions
Synopsis A group of island-bound individuals attempt to make dinner for the whole place, on rations.
Date November 15, 2010

Pollepel Island: Kitchens


The yelp that echoes through Bannerman Castle belongs to someone who has had nothing but bad luck with static electricity most of the evening. With one finger in his mouth, the willowy thin and dark-haired man who identifies as Benji just shocked himself on a metal cooking pot for the fourth time in the process of preparing dinner.

"It's this cold weather," is the unhelpful commentary given by his erstwhile nemesis Howard from the opposite side of the folding table they're sitting at. "Static electricity everywhere, gotta ground yourself out or something, otherwise you're gonna' wind up with frizzy hair and sore fingers." They've been at this for about an hour and a half, longer than Lynette Rowan and Robyn Quinn have been down in Bannerman Castle's makeshift galley.

Shannon was here before they were, and by merit of her location was volunteered for what the other four have been — kitchen duty. Benji and Howard have been peeling potatos for an hour and a half and have only gotten halfway through the pile they're working on, pearing knives slicing off skin before the potatos are dropped down into tall cooking pots for boiling.

With the doves that were caught, plucked and cleaned earlier in the day, dinner has become a simple recipe of stew. Fresh vegetables are piled up in a heap on another folding card table in this surprisingly warm though musty smelling basement. Lit by a proliferation of candles and a few oil lanterns, there is a distinctly rustic and old-world feel to living here. Simpler times.

With Shannon and Lynette having the forefront of cooking competence, it's turned to them to man the flames where the dove meat is being cooked on an open fire on a flat iron plate set inside of a large, crumbling stone hearth.

Feeding seventy people is a great deal of work.

The sound has Shannon glancing over and arching a brow as she looks at the pair of men. "I can't imagine how the hell you keep doing that." Though she then gives Howard a long, suspicious look. Clearly she thinks he might have something to do wtih it. "We can't mess around either, you know. Lot of people wanting to eat, and there's just us to deal with it. It's the whole too much to do and not enough time to do it thing." Though she seems to be fully enjoying herself. Though it could be the challenge of trying to make something delicious out of what's available.

An exhale of agitation blows through Benji's nostrils, mouth going a little bloodless as he sets it into a line of impatience. That comment also has other hand goes back to nudge and scritch fingers through raven hair to make sure it hasn't gone frizzy yet, a self-conscious darting of his eyes around the room before he sets a look back on the young man in front of him. "I can't imagine it either," he says to Shannon, voice prim, a little sharp as if his nerves and patience both were becoming frazzled by the shocks.

At the prompt of having a lot of people needing to eat, the young refugee picks back up the potato he was working on, his hands as deft as any experienced kitchenhand. Even if he seems to have bad luck with static electricity, Benji is at least an asset in the kitchen with speed and duty, as well as his focus.

Focus momentarily broken when he goes to kick Howard sharply in the shin beneath table, without batting an eye or breaking rhythm.

"Don't blame the electricity," Lynette says in playful offense as she smirks over at the two boys. "Maybe you should have worn gloves, hmm?" She, for one, never has this issue with getting shocked. >.>

"Oh, don't worry, Shannon. These boys wouldn't let us down, now would you?" Lynette asks complete with pretty smile. She just barely restrains the fluttering eye lashes.

Vegetable peeling has become Quinn's assigned task for the day, leaving her sitting hunched on a stool at one of the folding table, entertaining herself by humming between bits of conversation. But whe Benji shocks himself, Quinn can't help but laugh out loud, a look given over to Lynette as if Quinn knows that secretly, she is to blame for the little event that just occurred.

"People waiting to eat is exactly why I'm not doin' any of the actual cookin'," Quinn replies, flashing a grin at the others. "I mean, I guess we could serve people some inexplicably black and charred food, but I don't think they'd actually eat it."
"Hannah might, she's got saint's patience, but I guess that isn't surprising…" Howard comments with a grimace of discomfort and a furrow of his brows. Oh sibling rivalry. "She'd probably chew it on down with a smile and tell you it was wonderful it was an' make you feel shitty just for having put her through the whole ordeal. She probably wouldn't even realize she was doing it either, it's like some sort'a natural talent with her— genetic guilt disposition'r something."

Peeling a slip of potato skin off with his paring knife, Howard looks up to Lynette with one brow raised. "So, you're lady lightnin', huh?" Howard's head tilts to the side, looking Lynette up and down. "Heard some people talking about what you did saving folks from the safe house you ran, pretty brave shit, fighting one of thoe armored FRONTLINE fucks toe to toe. Takes a good fucking to make them stop, good to see you had it in ya."

Lobbing his peeled potato underhanded into the pot, Howard is suspiciously — at least to Benji — not complaining about having to do something this menial or this boring. It isn't immediately evident why, either.

"The big grumbly guy your husband or something?" Oh he must mean Ryans. Bluntly.


Listening to the others, Shannon falls silent and continues doing her thing. She does glance over to Lynette with an arched brow, then to Benji and Howard, before finally looking back to what she's doing so she doesn't burn something or cut something off. Neither one would be a pleasant thing.

Peelpeelpeel. Benji glances up from his work to glance from Howard to Lynette briefly with a vaguely conflicted, concerned look, then back to his task, saying nothing right now but very likely listening with all the intent of a hawk. Kick delivered, he shifts enough to hook one leg over the other in loose comfort, dropping a potato into a pot — without touching the pot — before selecting another.

A comma of disapproval marking next to his mouth at the subject matter is all Benji expresses.

"No one's ever quite put it that way before, but I suppose that's what I am, yes." Lynette lifts her own eyebrow as he goes on, amusement a little more forced as she comments, "A good fucking isn't exactly what I gave him, but I suppose that would have been an effective distraction, too. But, ah… it's just a lucky break, really. Electricity seems to make their suits malfunction."

She was just turning back to the stove when he lays that question out on the table and she gets stuck in a momentary coughing fit. "Husband? Not hardly," she eventually says with a chuckle. Is that a nervous chuckle? Maybe. "I'm not the marrying kind."

Quinn snorts a bit at Howard, again unable to keep from laughing. "Husband?" She gives a glance over to Lynette, grinning. "Now, Lynette, if you've been boffin' one of the tenants, there's nothin' t' be ashamed of, you can be honest!" She teasing of course, though afterwards her expression grows a right bit more serious. "Good luck or no, good on you guys for not givin' up, Lynette. I know I wasn't there anymore, but I'm still glad you got people out relatively fine." The peeler is run quickly down the side of a carrot, too fast and too hard, causing the poot vegetable to snap in half in her hand. "Oh, Christ."

"Sweet," is Howard's immediate reaction, setting down his paring knife and turning on his stool to face Lynette, "I'd ask you if you wanted t'grab a drink sometime, but I don't think that Epstein guy was serious about making a still. But if he was," there's a broad and toothy grin crossing Howard's face, "you can sure as shit bet I'll show you a good time, sweetheart."

One of Howard's brows raise slowly, an elbow propped up on the table, clearly putting aside the work he has to do to hit on a woman easily ten years older than him. "You, me, whatever booze I can shake down outta' the people still here." That crooked smile creeps back up as Howard casts an askance look to the door, then back to Lynette. "Whad'ya say?"

The end of a carrot is picked up and lobbed towards Howard's head by Shannon as he gets to flirting. "Dinner, hungry people. Flirt later," she tells him before going back to work and silence again.

"Say no," Benji pipes up, even as Shannon attempts to get them on task. The feet of his chair scrapes against the kitchen floor, although he isn't getting up and leaving — just putting some distance between himself and Howard. A peel of potato falls from his paring knife and catches at his sweater, so he picks it with his fingernails and tosses it onto the pile of vegetable debris on the table. "Say no, honey, and run far, far away, skipping through this god forsaken island as you like, but goodness, at the very least, say no."

His tone is light and near whimsical, and he doesn't look up from his work as he imparts this advice, ankle rolling his foot as he skins down the potato in his hand, head tilting to nudge hair out of his eyes without needing to use his fingers.

"I am not boffing one of the tenants," Lynette says with a laugh. One boff surely doesn't count. "Oh hunny, I'm just glad you got out and to safety when you could. It was not a pretty situation, that day. We just… did what we had to."

The flirting, and the reaction to the flirting, gets a crooked smile from Lynette. "Oh, don't worry," she says toward Benji, "I know trouble when I see it coming. However, if you boys get s still going, I never say no to a drink." Not that it'd be premium liquor, but you do what you must in situations like this. "I feel like it's been far too long since I had a drink."

"Oh Lord," coupled with the rolling of her eyes is Quinn's response to the sudden advent of flirting. "If you can find some private space for a date anyway, I applaud you," she adds dryly, looking up at Howard. "But make sure you let me know about it afterwards."

Coughing (away from the vegetables!) she sets down her broken carrot, attention turned to Shannon. "Oh, come on, now. It's not hard t' flirt an' peel at the same time! I'll even prove it if I need t'!" She grins wide, picking up another carrot. This one one's break. Maybe. There's a moment of silence before she looks back up, grinning. "If someone starts a still an' doesn't tell me, I'll punch 'em."

"Trouble is attractive, as one of my moms always used to say," Howard admits with a wag of one finger in the air. But it's that broad smile that open invitation that has him turning his attention back to the potatos, picking up another one and offering a look up to Shannon. "This situation is bullshit so we might as well make the best of it, right? I mean, you guys are going to be stuck here for a while, doesn't make any sense to be living like fucking monks or something."

Sliding his knife down the length of a potato, Howard looks up and over to Shannon. "I don't know you," is said as if he should, one brow raised, "and I'm pretty sure I'd remember a pretty face like yours. Name's Howard," and with a point of his knife across the table he adds, "this here's Benji, he likes long walks on the beach and… I dunno wearing skirts, I guess?"

Another slide of his knife down the potato and Hoard's eyes flick over to Benji, then over to Quinn. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. I give Benny a hell of a time but me and him, we're bros…" it sounds difficult to discern, like maybe he's being genuine, or maybe he's just being an asshole to poor Benji. All the demeanor of a High School bully.

"I never said you should live like a month. I'm all for sex." Shannon sighs softly and pauses for a moment, looking wistful. Then she shakes her head and fixes a steely look on Howard. "But only flirt right now if you flirt and work on dinner at the same time. As for knowing me, no, you don't. I'm Shannon. And I'm pretty new to the Ferry. Been hidden away most of that time too."

And Benji's soft-spoken demeanor, work ethic and passivity probably gave him a hard time in highschool too. Howard doesn't get so much as an oh ha ha of faint sarcasm, a good natured roll of clear blue eyes. Instead, Benji studies what he's doing, dragging serrated edge over the bumpy surface of the potato and a minor tick developing in his jaw. But then he does look up, and deals a faint smile Shannon's way. "Nice to meet you, Shannon," he says, some faint curiousity in his voice.

"We're all stuck here," is reminder at Howard, his tone gently edged. "And there are more ways than one to make things tolerable that have nothing to do with fucking. Or flirting," he amends, apologetically. As if that were the point he was attempting to make.

He rolls potato from open palm into the pot. "My name is Benji Foster. I am largely apathetic towards beaches. Where are you from, Ireland?" he enquires of Quinn, back to that gentle politeness.

"Making the best of it is better than the alternative," Lynette points out, "And it's a pleasure to meet both of you. Lynette is what most people call me, even if Lady Lightning has more flare. I save that for when I'm in spandex."

She chuckles toward Quinn, though, nodding, "The close quarters are putting a bit of a damper on everyone's love life, I imagine. But, as they say, where there's a will, there's a way." But to Shannon, she gives a crooked smile as well. "Next time we go to ground like this, I'm getting it catered, I swear."

"I would hope you aren't telling the ladies there's nothin' wrong with a skirt," Quinn replies with a bit of a wink, tipping her head in Shannon's direction first, then back to Howard and Benji. "Robyn Quinn, an' aye, I'm from Ireland." She even plays up the accent a bit, if only for her own amusement. "Most people don't bother t' ask anymore. Or the occasional daft fellow asks if I'm from Scotland." A chuckle follows, the musician shaking her head.

"Nice t' meet all of you. Being hidden away must suck a whole lot," she says, nodding at Shannon. "Hard t' hide here, though, so hey! Always a chance t' get t' know each other." Not that there's much of a choice, considering the living conditions. A carrot is finished - intact this time - and set aside before she begins peeling another. "I swear to god, Lynette," she says after a moment, looking deadly serious at the electrokinetic. "If you ever go around in spandex like that, I will shove one of these carrots straight up your nose. Maybe the organicness will make your brain work." She doesn't offer a response to her other point. Just a wide grin.

There is only so long even an inveterate delinquent can dodge work and still live with herself, at least if she has any scrap of conscience. A scrap and more hath Sable, however peculiar its articulation, and working with food has long been a preferred kind of chore - it provides a chance to sample and steal, and to know what's actually going into what you're eating.

The yellow eyed rocker has been fending off the encroaching chill with an oversize (for her at least) Boston University hoodie, a weird addition to the ensemble of someone who uses 'college' like it's a synonym for 'asshole factory'. Her unruly hair pokes dark spikes out from under the blue cowl, some locks slashing down to bar her vision as she meanders down the stairs into the basement. Her headphones are slung around her neck (of course), and they chatter music at too low a volume for anyone besides a careful listener or Sable herself to make out more than a melodic murmur.

"Well howdy, y'all," Sable says, delivering the line with an accent that, however put on, would do Hank Williams proud, "Quinngirl, they gotcha down here workin' like 'n' honest t' got Irish servant gal? For shame," she grins, sauntering over to the table, surveying the assembled faces. Lynette she knows. Howard she's harassed. Benji's an unknown quantity, but he's also a boy (however purty) which means quantification is not a priority. Shannon… Shannon Sable has not met. The rocker flicks back her hood and makes a little bow.

"Sable, t' those not in th' know," that woman says, eyes scooting from face to face, "y'all just point me t' what needs doin', 'n' I'll do it."

Howard's back straightens stiff the moment Sable introduces herself. Eyes grow wide and saucer-like and he looks over his shoulder with a cat that ate the canary look on his face. A sheepish smile creeps across the blonde's face as he dips his head down into a subtle nod, raking back his hair from his face compulsively before awkwardly swallowing and lifting a hand to the back of his neck, scrubbing there to get rid of the feeling of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Yeah… nice t'meet'cha…" Howard murmurs as he returns his attention down to his potato, more dilligently peeling as he offers a look up to Benji, brows furrowed, then back down to the menial task at hand.

Off like a light switch.

Shannon nods to Benji but seems content enough to remain quiet. Even when Sable arrives she just nods at the other woman, giving her eyes a curious look before resuming her chop, chop, chopping at a fairly rapid pace, despite the not quite sharp as it could be knife. Hopefully she won't chop a finger along with the veggies.

Benji looks like he's considering a pocket!Sable of his own just like people covet remotes for their televisions. His dark brows raise when Howard deals him that look, near slicing off the end of his own thumb as he studies, before going back to his work. "It's so quiet in here all of a sudden," he notes, in his voice that barely raises the decibel's of the room's ambiance in itself. And regardless of whether the girls are piping up or not. Howard isn't. "You could almost hear yourself think. I'm sure Quinn would love help with the carrots," he notes, pointing paring knife towards the stack of orange stalks ready for peeling, slicing and dicing.

Shuffling his chair back into the folded out table, as if sensing he is safe, Benji checks a slight cut at his knuckle, but it hasn't brought up any blood, just a scrape of white surface skin. Back to it.

"Sable, darling," Lynette greets with a smile for the girl, "I'm afraid Benji is quite right, Quinn could use some help. And tell her that I would look fabulous in spandex, would you?" And a bit of carrot from her own pile is tossed at Quinn, playfully of course!

She gets up then, to dump a towel full into the stew, checking things over a bit before she turns back to the group. "Makes you appreciate the adage that an army marches on its stomach."

Quinn makes note of how quickly Howard seems to shut up once Sable shows up, and she grins wide. "Sable! Christ, you'd think you were a teacher or somethin' come t' tell us t' shut up, this is detention from the way you guys clammed up, what the hell?" She shakes her head, watching as the carrot rolls in front of her. Sighing, she picks up a potato and waves is threateningly at Lynette. "Lynette, dear, you don't need spandex t' look good. I just said if you ever put it on like that. I get enough of that in my life as it is." Meaning, obliquely, Magnes, but with Sable here she leaves that part unsaid.

Silence does descend, making Sable's earphones momentarily audible, just long enough for the line 'if you let me drive your pickup truck and park it where the sun don't shine' which is… nice. The yellow eyed girl seems unfazed, however. Whatever shame she might have shown at snapping at Howard has since evaporated, being more tied to the ephemera of Sable's nature, rather than her earthier foundations.

"Aw, they're just starstruck," Sable says, waving a hand as if this explains everything, "comon' y'all, don't be shy, I put m' pants on one leg at a time like everyone else." Except, where her pants are on, she makes gold records.

She sidles over next to Quinn, reaching for the carrots with doubtless grubby paws before suddenly wincing and tugging her hands back. "Di'n't wash…" she mumbles, with something that sounds a little like apology. A quick search is made for something to cleanse Sable of the filth of the everyday. The basement sink, huge and potbellied, has water but no soap, and the lack of the latter gives Sable a touch of the fantods, but she scrubs her hands temporarily red to make up.

This done, she returns and sets to work, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she starts to skin one of the bright orange roots. Her eyes dart over to Lynette, as if she needs to seriously consider what spandex would, in fact, look like on her, and maybe even to imagine the context of said spandex. "Lynette, sweetie, spandex don't leave 'nuff t' th' imagination. I always like it when a gal leaves a little mystery t' her body, y'know?" This is given in the tone of honest opinion, not come-on. This line of thinking, however, does preclude consideration of Magnes, and Sable gives Quinn a grin, taking the Irishwoman's comment to mean something else besides. "Aw, thass cute, keepin' t' yer gal like she's more th'n 'nuff. Ain't you a keeper." Meaning, obliquely, Ygraine, with her penchant for lycra.

"Now, Benji's this 'n'," Sable says, pointing the veggie peeler at the young man in question, "but you," she points at Howard, "I was jus' a bitch to without knowin' yer name so, like, tell me who it is I owe 'n' apology t', eh?" Her eyes cut over to Shannon, who gets a slanted smile. "And you definitely ain't gettin' 'way without makin' my acquaintance proper-like. Who're you, sweetheart? Ain't seen y' b'fore, don't think."

Howard just shrinks down onto his stool like a melting wax candle as Sable turns her attention to him, still trying to peel his potato with the paring knife the entire time. The young man's brows furrow, eyes flick up to Sable and an apologetic expression crosses his face like he'd done something wrong and Sable was chastising him for it.

"Howard— ah— " he hesitates, grimacing slightly, "Howard Phillips, ma'am." Ma'am. "I'm ah— it's… it's a pleasure t'meet you." Everything is mumbles now; chin down, shoulders rolled forward, wilter flower posture. "Actually I— need to go— I need some fresh air." Sliding off of his stool, Howard sets down his knife and turns away from Sable on standing up.

"Benji if you see Hannah tell her I went outside to cool off," it's short, clipped, embarrassed and tense as he starts for the door, tripping over his stool as if he weren't even paying attention to where he was going before hopping back into stride again and trying to vacate while vacating is good.

"I— sure." Now there's a flicker of something more genuine for Howard, concern reflecting in pale eyes as he watches Howard head out, looking like he might be tempted to follow or stop him, but— Benji ultimately, awkwardly, remains seated. And a little nervous now that he's in a room full of women, or maybe some other reason that the bully to his highschool dweeb would be preferred to stay.

Scrape, goes potato skin. "He isn't big on work ethic," Benji decides upon, to excuse the other man, although it's half-hearted ribbing, shyly delivered.

Lynette lifts her eyebrows as Howard makes his exit, and she does, indeed, look to Benji for some sort of reaction. Sure, it's bullshit, which is why she chuckles a little as she sits down to pick up the potato peeling where he left off. "Men," is her teasing complaint.

The blonde's gaze falls over to Sable and Quinn again, and she gets that crooked smile back. "Now, that I can agree with. Imagination is a wonderful thing." But, Benji's nervousness brings her attention back to him, which is probably not the best thing, but she's just trying to make friendly conversation! "How did you three end up this way, Benji? I don't think I've heard."

"Christ, Sable. What did you do t' traumatise that poor boy?" Quinn inquires, once she's sure that Howard is out the door and hopefully out of earshot. "…on second thought, I'm not sure I want t' know." Pausing, Quinn picks a vegetable up out of the stack on the table. "Is this a turnip? Someone here hates us, I think," she remarks with a grin, before tossing it over to Sable. An ever widening grin and a weak is given to Lynette, though again she chooses to keep silent rather than comment.

Probably because what comes to mind likely isn't fit for public consumption.

A look is given over to Lynette, though, as she asks her question of Benji, the Irishwoman quirking an eyebrow. "Hey, yeah. I mean, I don't pretend t' know nearly everyone in teh Ferry, but I hadn't heard a' you guys before. How'd you all find your way here an' all that?"

Sable peers after the retreating Howard. It's not often she gets that reaction from people. She's honestly not sure if she likes it. Nor is she sure she likes that she likes any of it. It's complicated, basically. Still, she plays it off looking between Quinn and Lynette and then lifting a hand, two fingers snapping open and closed in a 'scissors' gesture that means…

Let's not get into what it means.

Shannon avoids introduction, keeping quiet, which is exactly the wrong kind of evasive tactic when it comes to Sable. She's just mentioned her preference for mystery. It extends beyond the physical. Shannon gets a long, sly look, but is addressed no further. Just you wait, Sable's smile says. Just you wait.

The turnip almost takes Sable by surprise, and she ends up catching it between arm and chest to prevent it from tumbling over her lap and onto the floor. No great loss, at least for Quinn the Turnip Hater. Sable seems to harbor no ill will towards the vegetable, at least, setting it down and going to work with it with a knife after passing the freshly peeled carrot to Quinn. A question has been put to Benji, and Sable is curious as well, but she doesn't feel the need to turn a questioning into a tribunal. She sings (relatively) softly along with her music, head tipping back and forth in time, as she slices the turnip into large white discs. "Dirty world, dirty world, it's a -ing dirty world…"

"Three?" Shannon peers at the door Howard disappeared through, then Benji. "Who's the third, and is he as annoying as your 'bro' who just left?" she asks flatly. No, she's not a person who cares too much about making nice.

"Three, yes. And Hannah is a very nice woman, so no, I wouldn't say so. But as for how we got here… we have the riots to thank."

Benji doesn't look up and meet eyes with the attention he is receiving, ears going slightly pink as only signal for his discomfort. "Howard and Hannah are— dear friends of mine. We're all— " He waves his paring knife a little. "Talented. You know. Special." He glances towards Sable and her quiet singing, a smile only showing in the slight creases of his eyes, before glancing towards the other two women who asked of him. "We've been attempting to get by without needing to Register."

Plunk goes skinned potato, but Benji is hesitating taking another one, like he might excuse himself soon and so doesn't desire to commit to another vegetable. His fidgeting with the tool is demure. "Then the city got very violent, and we headed for the river, chasing a rumour of evacuation. It turned out to be true, so fortunate for us. And Hannah did most of the talking."

"Hunny, you can just say Evolved here. No one's going to stone you," Lynette says with a chuckle. "It's going to be pretty difficult, to stay unregistered at this point. But the Ferry will do what it's always done. get people out safely. I'll make sure of that myself, even if it means going back to Coyoteing again." By the way she says that, it's been a while.

Quinn looks over to Shannon with a bit of a surprised expression. "Aw, he wasn't too bad," she replies, grinning. "A bit of an ass, but who isn't?" She taps a carrot against the table, highly tempted tog rab Sable's freshly peeled one and eat it, but she imagines someone might yell at her for it.

Looking back to Benji, she quirks an eyebrow. "Yeah, no need t'… be quiet about it here. Or ashamed, if that's the case." It's always so hard to tell. "Where's Hannah, then, if she's not here helping her friends?" Quinn leans forward a bit, having momentarily forgotten about peeling. "As for bein' special…" Quinn holds out her hands, both clasped together. Her grin widens, a bit of light suddenly shining ought from between her fingers, and when she opens her and, numerous little balls of light scatter out - clearly, this has become a favourite trick of hers. It does serve a more practical purpose, though, providing the room with a bit more light. "You have nothin' t' worry about. Shit's going t' be a pain, but I'm pretty confident we're all going t' get out of this okay."

"They're right. About not having to hide it. It's sort of what the group is for, after all," Shannon says, dumping some chopped up veggies in the pot and moving to check on the birds. "Pretty much everyone on the island is evolved or related to the evolved or just in hiding from the government and not in any position to turn you in even if they wanted to." She considers the doves then grimaces. "My kingdom for some spices," she mumbles.

"No, I— " The first real smile of the day manages to come along upon being vaguely flustered, Benji shaking his had once before he's setting the knife down upon the folding table. "No, I know. I'm glad, thank you for being kind. I guess just not everyone thinks that way. We are, after all, stuck on an island, while everyone else in the entire world is getting on about their day." This point is not made bitterly, but stated as fact, Benji's hesitance of terming himself as Evolved manifesting in the slightly leaky, hot waterly inconsistent castle in Nowhere, New York.

He rises from his chair, running out the crinkles of his sweater unnecessary, as the wool is heavy and smooths itself. "If I run into Hannah after dinner, I'll point her towards doing the dishes," he suggests to Quinn, with a small smirk, before he sets about neatly cleaning his area of table of excess potato peelings.

"Oh, I doubt New York City is business as usual this week, hunny. But the rest of the world? Maybe so. But if you three start getting antsy, let me know, I'll come up with something to take your minds off the situation. I hope you all are good at poker." Lynette gives him a crooked smile before she looks back over toward Quinn. "I don't think I've ever seen you show off your ability before," she notes, with a bit of amusement.

"You don't remember when I turned Rugby's nose red?" Quinn replies with a laugh. "I have never seen a dog wig out like that, it was hilarious." She lets herself laugh for a moment, before looking back to Benji. "If I thought things would be normal this week in New York, I wouldn't be here. Truth is, I didn't evac out here like most of everyone on the island. I came the 9th t' help out. An' because I was worried about people. I'm still hoping we here something from Cat soon." With that she leans back, taking up her peeler again. "Oh, don't put a damper on her day if she doesn't want t', Bennji. I was jsut teasing about her not being here."

Did someone just say poker?

Sable snaps out of her music and eavesdropping trance with the mach speed of a whip's tip, looking up at Lynette with a toothy grin. "Tell me, darlin', we'll be playin' f'r some sorta stakes. I got a jay I been savin', but I'll crack it out 'n' share it, even, if we get some cards 'n' cash goin'." One has to wonder if Sable is even capable of a poker face. It seems unlikely that she'd be any good at the game, much less while stoned.

There's a quick gesture, indicating Sable and Quinn, a back and forth of a hand, knife-bearing. "We're in a band, y' know," something that was bound to come out eventually, and now is no more apropos nada than any other time, really, "catch us performin', 'n' y'll get t' see what 'special' sorat thing I c'n do."

Talk of chores and grim necessity Sable stays well clear of. Bad enough she has to borrow Quinn's guitar. Bad enough she's hasn't got the privacy she needs to reverse-sublimate. Reality can keep it's distance, thanks, insofar as it's cold and hard.

Sable isn't the only one who perks up at the mention of poker. Shannon pauses, then glances over, brows lifted. "You guys let me know if you start a game. I like poker well enough. And it'd be something to do around here besides cook." Pause. "Though I do love cooking, but sorta limited with the rationing and all."

"Hannah put pellets in most of those doves. She wouldn't shy from helping out," Benji shrugs, moving to toss potato peels into the plastic tub used for the waste that might well go on to feed gardens, if anyone thinks to do so — and if no one does, he might, a scoping glance over the contents already tossed aside. "To be honest, I don't have anywhere very important to be. And this place is a lot nicer than most places I've stayed. As are the people."

He wipes his hands clean of dampness. "I don't know poker," he adds. "Only Go Fish. But perhaps you can teach me after dinner. I should go check on H— Hannah." That hesitation may allude to the other H in his little group. It may not. His if you'll excuse me is only faintly delivered, looking to slither away and allow bandmates and MANY to converse amongst themselves.

Lynette gives Benji's exiting a gentle nod and a warm smile that, damnitall, is actually genuine. After he's off, she looks back to the others to comment, "Well, he's the sweetest thing in the world, I'm pretty sure." There's a chuckle, but she means it!

But, when she looks over to Quinn, there's a furrow of her brow. Does she remember this? When did this happen? OH RIGHT, when she was on drugs. Which might explain the sort of blank look she gets before she shakes it off and chuckles again, more forced this time. "Right! Of course. How could I forget that crazy dog." Heh heh.

"Poker mightbe good," Quinn adds, grinning. "I'm terrible at it, but if people come by our room later," she motions between her and Sable, indicating it's their room, "I can at least provide better light an' some music." She waves at Benji as he goes to leave, again waiting for him to be out of the room before commenting. "Nice kid. Hope he stops bein' so quiet, you know? He's not going t;' fit in long here othetwise." She cracks a wider grin, turning back to Sable. "Seriously, though. Did you throw his brother in the river or something?"

"Where you stayin', hon?" Sable asks Shannon, oh-so-casual, "I c'n drop by, let y' know when a game's startin' up." This is hardly the deftest of ploys, but subtlety is too close to dishonesty for Sable's liking. Benji's departure is observed with some small interest. Again, boys aren't high on the priority list, but he does seem nice. Sable rolls her shoulders in a slow shrug. "I didn' do nothin' 'cept bark a little bit at 'im," she answers Quinn, "No bite, I promise. Way he was talkin' didn't think he w's such a sensitive little fella."

Shannon glances at Sable and arches a brow. "Here and there. Wherever I fall asleep. I don't have a room to myself." Sorry Sable, you'll have to figure out another way of ambushing Shannon! "Poker's easy to get the hang of though, you'll learn," she says to Benji as he scampers off.

"You're like the root beer, darling. If his reaction is anything to judge by. Barqs has bite," Lynette offers with a laugh. She does not necessarily disapprove of this, either. "But we will see about getting a game together. It'll be a fun way to pass the time while we're here. And those that don't know can learn a new skill. Although, I'm saving card cutting for the very special students," she remarks wryly.

"Seriously!" She's half teasing, but she really has never seen someone clam up like that before at the sight of Sable. It was a little incredible. A potato is tossed her way to be cut up, while QUinn takes up another one to peel. "I wish we had another guitar. I'd love to get people together an' put on a little show, if only to relax people, you know? Give 'em somethin' t' do. Something that's not just me playing."

"Well, shit," Sable says, giving a huff and getting back to the actual work before her, "wish I'd brought some dosh, I could mebbe get someone t' smuggle us over a cheap acoustic 'r whatever. Hell, mebbe someone else's got an instrument with 'em, never know, eh? I'd take a fuckin' yukalaylee, I ain't jokin'. Just need somethin' t' make a tune."

Once conversation moves away from poker Shannon's attention drifts back to the food. But then, it's hard to distract her for long when there's food on the table, so to speak. Even if it's just chopping up stuff for dinner for seventy people.

"Well, start asking around. See if anyone brought anything. If not, find Wes Smedley, see if he can manage it. Or the Nick fellow, I suppose." Lynette grabs her chunks of potatoes and comes back over to Shannon. "How much more time do we need, you think? Until it's done? I like to put the call out for dinner a little beforehand."

"I hope not much longer, my hand's starting to cramp. THis cannot stand." QUinn's only half joking, looking between the other people in the room. "I wonder if I gave someone goin' off the island money, they'd bring back anotehr instrument." Apparently, this is a big enough deal for Quinn to spend money on, even!

"Don' ask me, hon," Sable says, shrugging helplessly at Lynette, "I ain't 'xactly a master cook 'r nothin'. I like th' work, but I don't know how it works, dig?" She nods, "but I'll talk with those guys, whatever their names were… tell me 'em again later. We'll work somethin' out," a look to Quinn, "I'm good f'r it if y' want t' split it fifty fifty. I got money stored in th' lovely acoustic y' gave me." Evidently it doesn't have a name yet.

Shannon checks on the veggies, on the meat, considers. "Well, how long it takes to cook doesn't really depend on what you're doing, but I think we have enough for now. So you guys can go hunt up musical stuff or whatever," she tells the others with a shrug.

"Alright then. Girls, run around and let people know dinner's in twenty minutes, and Shannon and I can finish here. I'd appreciate it." Lynette flashes the bandmates a smile before she moves to help Shannon get the finishing touches done. Seventy is a lot to feed, but hey… they may just pull it off!

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