[Locked to Ignis] Animal, Vegetable or Mineral

[st_rontium]

For the most part MacCready tended to avoid...hell, basically everyone really. It wasn't the best way to function, he knew that.

Thing was though...

A guy like him didn't belong in a world like this. And it wasn't in some weird like too good for this upper stands bullshit. Nah, none of that.

If this was really California way, way before the bombs fell, what- What was the point? Who the fuck did he piss off so badly that they went 'I know what's going to make things worse, show him what kind of life is absolutely impossible for him where he's from!'

He was miserable. He knew he was miserable. Wasn't any goddamn sense in denying it.

A guy like him didn't belong in a world like this because a world like this was too good, too whole for him.

Watching Percy and Vax reunite was uncomfortable not just because it was a super personal moment but also...also because MacCready knew nobody missed him that much. Nobody would be that glad to see him.

So somewhere in his mind, he decided that because no one back home would be that glad to see him then no one here would be that glad about it. All these people with their really nice teeth and all these worlds where you just hope you don't get caught out in the middle of a radstorm or mauled by a-

It was better for him to do his routine. Go up to the roof, take watch for a while, slip into the kitchen when the dude who actually had a name wasn't there, steal some food and disappear again either to sleep in his super stiff bed or go take next watch.

He wasn't too keen on watching that day. He didn't- He didn't want Percy or Vax finding him. He didn't need that friendship rubbed in his face too or either of them thinking that they owed him something because he helped them out. Percy'd said as much in his way. Vox Machina was a family. Far as MacCready could tell just from listening to all the stories... There wasn't gonna be room for him. He didn't want to intrude.

He wished the pair of them well. He did. He just...

Better to be alone enough where no one would even notice if he was gone.

He'd come down to head into the kitchen. When he ducked in, he didn't see the non-chicken guy and figured it was safe enough to figure out something to eat. Chicken wouldn't talk to him anyway.

He'd left Lucy locked up in his room, planning to eat there anyway before he headed back out. This was just a quick food run, he told himself.

He was so focused on being overwhelmed (again) by the choices in the fridge that he didn't hear anyone else in the room. The fuck was he supposed to do with any of this?

Comments

[st_eadfast]

Blindness hadn't impaired Ignis's other senses - in fact, he'd worked to sharpen them as much as possible, to make up for his lack. And it had worked well enough that, barring things like reading and driving, he was as functional as he'd ever been.

So, the scent and feel of cool air was all Ignis needed to deduce a non-chicken-maniac presence in the kitchen. (The chicken maniac, after all, never had to linger at any kitchen appliance. He was making chicken something, indecision was never part of his routine.)

Knowing that someone was there didn't mean knowing who it was, of course, but it hardly mattered. However much he thought of the place as his, Ignis had to admit the kitchens were as publicly available as anywhere else but private rooms. Just to announce his presence, he spoke up, "If you're at a loss for ideas, the large pot on that stovetop," the gesture was hopefully only a little off, "generally contains some kind of soup or stew."

[st_rontium]

MacCready looked in the vague direction of the pot. "Yeah," he said clearing his throat when he sounded too gruff for his own liking. "I'll pass, thanks." He shut the fridge. "Sorry to bother you." The guy there didn't need to know how at a loss for more than just ideas he was. He didn't know how half this crap was meant to work. He'd never seen it whole.

Probably he shouldn't embarrass himself again. He'd go find a different time when whoever that was wasn't around. He'd gone longer without food. It'd be fine.

[st_eadfast]

The voice had a hint of familiarity, somewhere around the edges, but as a whole... no. This was one of the many resident Ignis hadn't met before. "It's no bother."

So, a pass on soup. Not a problem, some people didn't like it. Or had cause to be tired of it. Or some other reasonable reason. Ignis had no call to hear the decline as a challenge, but he pointed again, to one of the stools by the counter-island. "Sit. Two heads ought to be better than one for this sort of problem."

[st_rontium]

"It's okay, really," he said, taking a step back. "I don't wanna pull you away from...from whatever it was you were working on. Probably more important. I can just grab a-" He had to cut himself off short. He had no idea what kind of fruit was available only that there didn't seem to be any apples in sight for the moment (and even so he was pretty sure he wasn't gonna recognize what one of those looked like whole anyway.)

"I can come back later."

[st_eadfast]

Definitely a challenge. Ignis let the odd statement about whatever he'd been doing (a variation on 'nothing much') roll off largely unnoticed. "Don't be ridiculous. You're here now, as is the food. Sit. What were you looking for?"

[st_rontium]

He really wasn't in the mood to pick a fight. Following through with leaving was gonna be picking a fight. Or maybe be something that was worth mentioning later for this guy.

MacCready sat. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Whatever hadn't gone bad yet."

[st_eadfast]

At another point in his life, Ignis might have laughed. Now, after ten years of daemonblight, he'd done that math too many times to discount it. How much longer would supplies hold out? Could he trust anything he found not to be poisoned? Would he rather risk it or severely ration what was left to reach an actual settlement with supplies? Instead of laughing, a twist of his lips in the not-quite-smile of negative reminiscence showed briefly. "Indeed. That would be anything in these kitchens. I make sure of it. I don't recommend eating meat raw, but short of that you'll do fine."

After a few moments of consideration, Ignis moved to start putting together a few of the sandwich-like items he'd offered to Vax'ildan the previous day. A flat steamed bun folded over pork belly with some greens and cucumber - simple enough, nutritive enough, and it could be carried away at need. "Right now, you'll try this."

[st_rontium]

MacCready had had sandwiches before, but only a few times. Bread wasn't exactly common in the wasteland. You had to find someone growing razorgrain and then you probably had to spend an arm and a leg for it and that didn't even include the hassle of making flour or getting friggen eggs. Eggs were really the hardest part when for the most part you were going up against mirelurks, radscorpions or deathclaws for 'em. Easier to just not bother. No one wanted to die for eggs.

He hesitated as the guy cooked and offered him way more bread than he'd ever seen on a plate in his life. "Thanks..." he said warily, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by all this attention. All that washed away the moment he actually tasted what was made for him. The noise he let out as he chewed slowly, enjoying the flavors, was positively obscene. He would've sworn if he had the mental space to do anything but chew.

[st_eadfast]

Hah. Ignis couldn't help a smug little smile at the noise; it would have taken someone with a lot less pride in general not to be smug, and his skill at the culinary arts was something Ignis was very proud of, indeed. Still, under the smugness he was putting things together and adding up. The buns didn't represent stretching himself at all, they weren't difficult things to make in general. Tasty, perhaps very tasty, but not sex-noise worthy to most. Combine that with his statement about looking for anything not rotten... and wherever he came from looked significantly worse than Ignis's own home world.

And that took significant effort.

But he kept those thoughts to himself. The other man would likely try to bolt again at any hint of pity or similar expression of feeling. Instead, he poured a glass of orange juice and also set it in front of the man. No, it didn't really match the flavor profile of the buns, but like them it could well be something he'd not experienced recently. (Or ever.) Plus, vitamins.

[st_rontium]

MacCready looked at the juice and shook his head. "I can't do cold things," he said, quiet and shameful. He'd done his best to hide his mouth from these people with their stupid sparkly perfect teeth. Warm was fine. Warm didn't hurt. Cold absolutely did. This guy...whoever he was, seemed pretty fussy about food. Almost like Wellingham only more willing to serve people who weren't of "particular breeding" or whatever the hell the robot was on about on a given day.

It wasn't something he'd ever noticed back home. Cold things weren't really on the menu. Room temperature, sure, but cold only came when you were desperate enough to drink from standing water somewhere. He avoided that like the plague. "Sorry," he added even softer, sounding genuinely remorseful about it.

[st_eadfast]

Noctis had been more picky, once upon a time, so Ignis simply nodded and removed the glass of juice. He replaced it, for lack of any better ideas, with a cup of coffee. Quite possibly it wouldn't be to taste either, since he'd made it to his own taste: as black as possible, and hot.

Even if it weren't simple pickiness, all of the reasons Ignis's imagination could provide were eminently reasonable even if most of them plunged the other man's world even deeper into the 'I do not want to go to there' pit. "Try that instead, then."

[st_rontium]

There'd been times in his life when MacCready'd regularly had burnt coffee or coffee that had at one point been brought to a boil. It was almost always instant, fake coffee. Finding the real stuff was...well, he didn't need to get into it. It wasn't any more bitter than what he was used to and he took a deep swig of it, heedless of the heat. Hot was good. Hot meant it wasn't likely to kill you. "Thanks."

[st_eadfast]

"It's no trouble." Ignis poured himself a fresh cup of coffee as well, with only a slight hand-slide to find where he'd left the mug he'd been using, then leaned against the counter to sip. "There's generally coffee available, if I've been in here at all on any given day. You are of course free to help yourself."

[st_rontium]

"Seems weird to be helping myself to anything even after all this time here. Keep expecting us to run out of crap," he said around a mouthful of tiny sandwich. It was really fuckin' good. He didn't know meat could taste that good. Maybe it was the bread. Probably. Didn't matter what it was, it was good. He was sure this was gonna cost him somehow and he still didn't have any pre-war money to pay anyone. Maybe the guy would accept a favor.

[st_eadfast]

"I've been paying attention to the stores. They replenish, every so often." As if the Inn were still getting the shipments of food that it would have, had the world been larger and it hadn't been functionally a residence to a great many lost travelers. "It's hardly unlimited, but I'd judge our population would have to double, or thereabouts, before food supply became a concern. But I understand. It's rather strange not to cook on a camp stove or out of a backpack, still."

[st_rontium]

He didn't know how many people lived here. He hadn't exactly been keeping exact count, but he had a vague general idea. "Well, we keep getting more people, so maybe we oughta think about canning or smoking some of the stuff we've got just to be on the safe side. Not like the area around here's really full of stuff to hunt and I'm pretty sure someone's gonna get all precious if it gets to the point where horse might need to be on the menu."

[st_eadfast]

"Perhaps. I'm not entirely certain whether that would work, however." Ignis's tone was musing, as if he was speaking aloud thoughts he'd already had. "I've noticed that the... shipments... for lack of a better term, only replace what's missing. Canning or smoking does not render the supplies missing. It's possible that, similar to the resistance of the rooms to change," which he'd heard about after complaints that the rooms were ugly, "the pantries resist stockpiling."

[st_rontium]

MacCready thought about things for a long, heavy moment. "Well, then we gotta just hope that either we don't double our current population or somehow the pantry accounts for that. Ain't gonna be sustainable otherwise." Not that he was making charts or graphs or any of that science-y math crap. That was all beyond him. There just seemed, right now, to be way more rooms than there were people and they were gonna end up real fucked real quick if things kept up like they seemed to. Even if it tapered off there was still gonna be an eventuality of not enough food. Probably most people didn't know how to handle something like that.

[st_eadfast]

"True," Ignis agreed. It was true, and oddly comforting that someone else was thinking ahead, even if he had no other ideas to add. Even if any plans wouldn't have to be executed for some time, if ever. "We shall see. In the meantime, here and now, there's no need to ration against an uncertain future."

[st_rontium]

He worked a few more bites of his food in what would've been obvious thoughtfulness to anyone watching. "The stuff here's got seeds in it, right?" he asked, "the vegetables and crap at least. What d'ya think would happen if we set some aside and started gardening? 'S not technically rationing anything or saving supplies we've got currently. And it wouldn't be a bad idea to have some kind of garden back up if one day whatever messed up aliens or gods or scientists or whatever run this place decide to cut us off and see what happens." He'd been a farmer himself for a while. Maybe most of these plants weren't familiar to him and he wasn't used to soil without radiation at all, but he was sure he could probably figure it out.

"Someone already doing that?"

[st_eadfast]

"I don't know." Ignis didn't bother to suppress the notes of surprise or approval; it was a good idea, and he hadn't thought of it. "I'm happy to set seeds aside for the experiment, however. As far as I know, Joanna and perhaps one or two others are gardening, but I couldn't tell you whether that effort is flowers or food." And for certain, he couldn't go and look.

[st_rontium]

What he'd seen mostly just looked like flowers, but he knew enough about plants to know that some just looked like flowers on the outside. He nodded to himself. "Do we have like...shit, what's it called, those tray things eggs come in? Maybe a spare shallow pan or something for proper drainage?" Some things didn't need seed starts directly. Carrots you could basically throw in and whatever happened happened. He didn't know how delicate the stuff here was. Might as well do starters for all of it and hope for the best. Find a decent south facing window somewhere. Stab some holes in an empty plastic bottle somewhere to make a decent watering can. Those'd be the easy parts. Finding dirt without pissing off the staff was gonna be tricky.

[st_eadfast]

"We have eggs, certainly. I imagine that means we also have containers for them. And several shallow pans, though I shall want to keep one or two of those." For cooking, not for gardening.

[st_rontium]

"I think maybe just one decently sized one set aside for now, don't wanna impede your work at all." The egg paper seemed like it could get cut to size well enough. He could be creative in placing things. "If it's really no trouble for you to set aside seeds, I mean." Maybe someone else was already starting to work on that kind of thing. Couldn't hurt to have more people setting up food production.

[st_eadfast]

"No trouble whatsoever. Very few recipes call for the seeds of any given vegetable." And fruit was even easier. "Fortunately, the chicken madman rarely uses anything else, so I need not try to convince him to set seeds aside. And better to start sooner rather than later where actual growing is concerned."

[st_rontium]

"We haven't given him a name yet?" he asked, jerking his head to where the chicken madman was doing weird chicken things probably. He used a bit of bun to sop up what sauce had dripped off his sandwich.

[st_eadfast]

"I haven't. If anyone else has, I haven't heard it." Ignis shrugged. "Most likely he'll always be the chicken madman to me, either way."

[st_rontium]

He cleared his throat and got up to put his dishes in the rack things went to be washed in the giant contraption thing. "Well, thanks for the food and the chat, man."

[st_eadfast]

Ignis turned his head, tracking the sound, and nodded. "Thank you for the company. I appreciate it."