Trust Your Feelings ((Kitchen))

Old threads from the RED base.

Trust Your Feelings ((Kitchen))

Postby Connal Reid » Sun Jul 29, 2012 6:54 pm

« Thread Started on Jul 28, 2011, 12:46am »

Riley O'Neil wrote:Now that several days had passed without him having a decent meal, it was no longer feasible for Riley to ignore his hunger. The birds that he'd managed to shot down were of little sustenance for his body and he found himself slipping into the base, prowling toward where he believed the kitchen was. Entering the base with Tom dead set on murdering him if he showed his face was as close to a suicide mission as he could get without offering himself up to the man.

Peering into the fifth doorway he has found, Riley stepped in, pausing to strain his senses for anyone else. With only the faint smell of familiar and unfamiliar scents surrounding him, he hurried over to the fridge, pulling it open and freezing as the light inside sprang to life. Better to make this quick.

With that, he began to rummage between the multiple cans of SPAM.

Elias Saaresto wrote:Hunger was one of those things that Elias had become accustomed to. He went on for weeks at a time, living off of a meal a day, too engrossed in his work to sit down and prepare decent meals. Even worse, he sometimes replaced actual food with military rations. It was all the same to his body. He didn't see the point of variety in his diet, so long as he got the recommended servings from his staples.

But this was his first day at the base, and he had to figure out what sort of rations they'd been given so that he could gauge proper portions. That's why after his awkward failure at the shooting range, he fled downstairs to the kitchen. He was going through his checklist, even after being embarrassed.

And while he shouldn't have been surprised to see someone else rummaging through the fridge, the scaly tail gave him reason to pause. Elias reached for his revolver but stilled his hand. "Who are you?"

Riley O'Neil wrote:Spam, spam, and more spam. That was all Riley could find and despite his distaste for the product, beggars couldn't be choosers. Finally picking one at random, he went to pull his head out of the fridge when someone spoke out to his right. His body jerking upright was intercepted by the ceiling and he hissed, loudly, dropping the can of SPAM to the floor as he backed away from the fridge, rubbing at the top of his head.

"Chroist..." Taking his hand away from the soon to be bump, he turned slowly, remembering the presence in the room, blinking at the first Spy he had seen here. His view of the man was cut off as the fridge closed of it's accord, plunging them into darkness. Standing his ground so as not to startle the man, he was glad that his pathetic excuse for a smile went unseen. "Didn't see yeh there... Near gave me a heartattack..."

Elias Saaresto wrote:When shadow engulfed them, Elias's guard shot up. He reached back and felt his way against the counter, keeping his back to a wall. "My apologies," he answered, tone even and smooth. He knew not what to make of the strange tail, now that it was out of sight. This man-creature that stood before him could speak and communicate--that alone didn't prove that it held anything but bad intentions. "But I'll ask again. Who are you?"

Riley O'Neil wrote:"Oh. Roight," he answered quietly, too busy following the smell of the Spy as he moved. Being a Sniper, he moved to the wall, pressing his back against it just in case the Spy was a BLU in disguise. It never, never hurt to be cautious about these sort of things, even more so when it was his job to be alert.

Pressing his palms flat to the wall, he threw together what he hoped the Spy wanted to hear. "M'Riley, RED Sniper." That would get the possibly trigger happy man to back down.

Elias Saaresto wrote:For all that Elias knew about being unseen, his training had included courses on avoiding bloodhounds. The same principle applied in this situation - so long as he realized that he was being traced by his scent. All he had seen was the tail, and he couldn't recall off the top of his head whether or not crocodiles - or did it belong to an alligator? - had a keen sense of smell. Thus, the point was moot and Elias kept shifting in the darkness, too paranoid to stay still for very long.

"What?" Elias squinted at the darkness. His eyes refused to adjust. He could barely make out the edges of the tables off to the side. "But you're not-- ...human." Rather, this Riley person had an extra part: The scaly tail. Yes, Elias couldn't get over that. It wasn't natural. It just-- where in the world had it come from?

Riley O'Neil wrote:The Spy kept moving and Riley wasn't able to turn his head quickly enough to get his exact location down. Just a general area. So...somewhere by the counter? Anxiety began to grip him once more as it struck him that the Spy might be only a few feet away from him. Flattening himself as much against the wall as his tail would allow, the Sniper carefully, slowly inched away from the Spy.

Caught off guard by the observation, he paused, brow creasing as he looked toward the Spy, the absence of enough light for his eyes to work with making him squint. He turned away, feeling ashamed. "...Yeah. Oi know tha.' Very well in fact. At his former base, not a day went by without a slur directed in his direction. It hadn't started again here but this might be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias didn't plan on staying in one place for too long. Idling bred complacency which beget laziness. And it was that inability to react which led to defeat. He knew this, believed this, and acted accordingly no matter what the situation. Perhaps he was a workaholic for constantly needing something to kick the gears in his head, but Elias preferred the consistency over spontaneity. Having work was having a goal in mind. He had something to strive towards. To achieve. He had a purpose. And if that was not the reason for living, then what was? Something philosophical and intangible like love? Beauty? Nonsense. Those things eluded so many people. How could he believe himself worthy of experiencing such notions? Rather than get his hopes up on such follies, he stood steadfast in his world of numbers and cold hard facts.

And the fact of the matter was that half-human hybrids simply didn't exist. Elias must have been dreaming. That was the only explanation for it--this was all too vivid. "Yet RED still hired you? Dat's... I don't know what to make of dat." He knew that there was something strange about this company. Now wasn't the time to mull it over, though. Where were his manners? "I'm sorry, I'm a little jittery from de boat ride. You can call me Kettu."

Riley O'Neil wrote:He didn't answer right away, mulling over what Kettu had said but not for long. Lapsing into silence when he was being spoken too would be rude. Bringing his hands in front of him, he nodded in the gloom, twisting his wedding ring on his finger without conscious thought. "S'alroight... Not exactly a noice place, this. N', uh, call me...wotever yeh loike." Mumbling out the last few words of his sentence, he cringed; that has sounded far better in his head then a loud. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' Chiding himself silently, he raises his eyes from the floor, looking in the direction of the fridge and taking a step toward it, wanting to retrieve the can of meat.

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias remained silent for a moment, perhaps trying to gather his thoughts. Or to regain his composure. Most likely he wanted to get through this in a professional manner, and not like a child gaping at a man lacking a leg. If he compared this Sniper to an amputee, well, suddenly he felt more sympathetic. Then again, he didn't know what had happened nor how this had occurred. And if the creature agreed that he wasn't completely human, it might have had some innate instinct to seek out and kill those whom encroached upon its territory-- Elias couldn't decide whether this was a 'he' or an 'it'.

"I'll address you by your name." At least that was easy. "Ahem. I disturbed you in de midst of a meal, didn't I? Do you mind if I get de light?"

Riley O'Neil wrote:"Thank yeh."

Being called by his name was still better then being labeled a 'monstrosity' or 'abomination' as Tom and others had called him. This Spy seemed to be a good bloke, much to his delight, making him smile gently. Said smile disappeared at the prospect of losing his cover and he gave a hard twist to his ring, tail shifting loudly. "...Lemme get it." Stepping away from the wall, the Sniper walked quickly to the doorway on his side, feeling around for the light switch. Hand settling easily on it, he hesitated before flicking it up, light above flickering to life. Their age had caused them to dim slightly, making them perfect for his sensitive eyes which he turned on Kettu.

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias knew not what he was being thanked for, but he didn't see the point in bringing that up. Excess information here, there, everywhere. People always got bored with the trivial leftover facts. He just happened to notice them because, hey, they were right there in front of his face, practically wearing neon signs whereas for everyone else, they might as well have been hidden by fog. Details, never necessary to the bigger picture. What was he to do with them?

While Elias had never been called a monster, he did know what it felt like to be excluded. Or at least a minority. His parents were not trained to be spies like he was, and the other students knew this about him. In fact, it had been one of their earliest exams, doing background checks on one another. It had forced him to work harder to prove himself which, in the end, might have been for the best.

As the lights flickered on, Elias couldn't help but be drawn to the man's animalistic features. He studied them like a detective seeking leads. They were scales. Honest to God scales. Elias tore his gaze away from Riley's abnormalities. "One would think dat you'd be more intimidating. But no, you're so meek."

Riley O'Neil wrote:Riley felt the stare more than he saw it as he had already averted his gaze to the wall behind the Spy. Staring was certain to come with his condition, rationalizing didn't make him feel any less exposed in the spot light. He took to focusing on the texture of the wood behind Kettu's shoulder. 'Rough,' he started, 'dark, grainy, old, weathered, wet, decayed.' The mantra looped over in his head, calming him into the folds of repetition, the Spy's comment going in one ear and getting jammed half way through.

'Rough, dark, grainy, old, weathe—' Wait. What had Kettu just said?

Mentally backtracking, he moved his gaze to the Spy, staring with a dazed expression. "M'sorry but... Come again?"

Elias Saaresto wrote:So the other man was used to hearing comments of a crueler sort. Elias took that into consideration. Perhaps a hint of kindness was necessary in this situation. Him and his awkwardness were sure to come into play; he had to fight against that. "You're very meek. You take many pauses, speak quietly, t'ings like t'at." He spoke in such a manner that everything was an observation.

Riley O'Neil wrote:The initial response was a stare and then a forward tilt of the head to stare at the floor. It was true, what Kettu said but that didn't mean he liked hearing his mannerism thrown back at him in that detached tone of voice. It was, he imagined, a bit like talking to a robot if they could talk.

"...Bad habits, Oi guess." Giving a half hearted shrug, he glanced to the fridge and moved over, stooping down to retrieve the can of SPAM. If he had been alone, he would have simply eaten to his hearts content but with eyes on him, he stood there, turning it over and over again in his hands.
Last edited by Connal Reid on Wed Aug 08, 2012 11:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Trust Your Feelings ((Kitchen))

Postby Connal Reid » Sun Jul 29, 2012 7:18 pm

Elias Saaresto wrote:Robotic, mechanical, all business and nothing more. That was the way Elias operated. He was an infiltrator - a shadow upon the walls - and quick as a flash. He didn't dance around people, acted as no such entertainer. Nonsense had no place in his vocabulary. He was a soldier, nothing more, nothing less. He was perfect for this job. Beyond that, however, he fell short in every regard. He never connected to people.

Elias averted his gaze before heading towards the drawers. He retrieved a can opener and and silverware in one hand, then went to find a plate. Without a word, he set the things out upon the nearest table. "I won't watch you dine if t'at is uncomfortable." It made sense to join Riley since he was hungry, but he wouldn't do such a thing unless invited.

Riley O'Neil wrote:Looking up from the can, Riley watched as he Spy moved around the kitchen, taking out various things in the rickety old cabinets and he tried to piece together what Kettu was doing? Looking down to the SPAM, he considered that maybe the Spy wanted the food and was setting out the table.

Raising his gaze at the others words, he frowned, unsettled by the choice he was being forced to make. Making the Spy leave would be wrong- he could be hungry too- but letting him linger would make his throat close up every time he tried to swallow. Hesitating, he tapped a claw against the tin of the can in thought. "...Oi don't mind... Either way is fine."

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias went to grab a second set of utensils and plate. "Is t'ere anyt'ing but spam?" He knew that it had protein, but also high levels of sodium. He would have preferred rations honestly. But if sharing a meal was what people did with each other (Elias remembered social gatherings as a common step in recon missions, ones he never attempted), then he would have to practice engaging in such an activity.

Riley O'Neil wrote:"...Not tha' Oi know of." Walking over to the nearest table, he set the can down, resting a hand on it as he thought over the actions of the Spy behind him. The kindness he was being shown still took him aback and he couldn't help but fear the Spy would backstab him, as Spies were apt to do. Feeling a surge of guilt for thinking Kettu was that low to stab a teammate in the back, he walked over to the Spy, giving a tight smile. "Here, lemme set the table."

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias paused and allowed the Sniper to set the table. He didn't know why Riley wanted to do it for him, but he had no reason to tell him 'no'. So he merely took a seat, eyeing the wooden grain of the table, noticing the chips along the edges. He saw patterns, swirls and lines and dots and nicks, each mark telling a story. Perhaps there had been rambunctious nights. Angry fists. Heated discussions. Depressing setbacks. Whatever the case, there would be new marks to add within his presence. Someone might drop a plate. Another might leap upon the table and dance. No one could say how long this piece of furniture would last. So long as new memories were carved, Elias supposed. The sudden bout of sentimentality struck him as odd. It must have come with age.

In an attempt to break free from the confines of his own weary mind, Elias opened his mouth and spoke, "I t'ink your 'kondition' kould prove very formidable in battle." Imagine, a fierce predator, armed with scales and fangs, charging straight into enemy lines and breaking rank. Elias liked the idea, but he wasn't sure if the Sniper would be very keen on a kamikaze strike.

Riley O'Neil wrote:Glad to be able to have something to do with his hands, Riley gladly set the table, not looking at the other in the silence. Setting the table was the polite thing to do; making conversation was too but he preferred using his hands then having to think of something to say. Kettu wasn't talking either, which was good, and he took the silence to open up the can of SPAM and trying not to wrinkle his nose at the smell; it tasted even blander.

"...M'a Snoipah, not a Heavy." Riley couldn't picture himself attacking BLU like that; he didn't have the guts or the guns for it. Getting up close and personal and taking down folk like that wasn't right. Turning back to the can, he divided the hunk of meat between them, frowning at it. "...Oi don't think the stove is working.

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias glanced over at the stove. "I know a bit about t'ose t'ings. I could try fixing it. --I don't mind eating t'is cold, t'ough." It'd be more hassle than it was worth, seeing as how he didn't really care about food in the first place. In fact, offering to fix it was for Riley's sake.

The Spy was still wary of the other, but that didn't mean he couldn't be civil. And friendly.

Riley O'Neil wrote:"...No, it's foine. M'foine with eatin' it raw t'." He didn't want the other to have to tinker around with the thing for no reason. Sitting down on the edge of his chair, he dug into his food with the enthusiasm of a condemned man. The bland taste was disgusting but he swallowed it, keeping his eyes on his plate even though he knew he was supposed to say...something.

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias sliced his spam up into bite-sized cubes. He gained no pleasure yet suffered no pain from the simple task of eating. "So t'en your stomach is like a crocodile's. Are t'ey capable of ingesting raw meat?" he asked, curious if the other man knew a thing about his, well, bizarre biology.

Riley O'Neil wrote:The overly personal question made him stop, fork scraping against the plate slightly. It was common knowledge, crocodiles being able to ingest raw meat, it was a rather personal question. That was what Spies specialized in but...still. Stalling for time, he busied himself with nudging a piece of the meat across his plate, trying to fake contemplation on whether or not to eat it He couldn't, he knew, keep it up forever, so he eventually answered after some more nudging of meat. "...Yeah. Bones too," he added, more because it was what he knew and not because he was trying to scare the Spy or anything.

Elias Saaresto wrote:If Riley was capable of digesting bones, his stomach must have some dangerous acid in there. More so than the human one at least. And while it came as a slight surprise to Elias, he gave no indication that he was shocked. He merely regarded Riley with his oft blank look and nodded. "T'at's very interesting." And then he ate some spam.

Riley O'Neil wrote:Making a muted noise of agreement with Kettu's statement, he continued to eat, trying to eat at a quick pace but not to rush, not wanted the other to think that he was eager to leave which he partially was. He hadn't expected to end up eating in silence with another teammate. Eating the can of spam, curled up in his hammock had been his goal but this was okay. Not very comfortable, as evident by the way he kept shifting in his seat, but okay.

Elias Saaresto wrote:If this was making his teammate uncomfortable, Elias would have preferred the man to leave while he still could. He didn't like keeping people as it stilted the flow of progress and lowered efficiency and blah blah workaholic. "You like spam?" he asked. (Hopefully this question wasn't too personal.)

Riley O'Neil wrote:"...No, not really." It was okay to freely admit this he decided and have a long shred of meat a jab with his fork to drive the point home. Would it be okay to go into detail...? "...Doesn't leave good taste in my mouth. Too bland." Lapsing back into silence, he scratched idly at his chin before quickly putting his hand back down in his lap, silently fretting about his dinner table etiquette. "...Do yeh?"

Elias Sarresto wrote:Elias couldn't help but watch the other man eat, wondering why he'd stomach something he disliked. Of course, he was hardly one to talk. He threw just about anything down his gullet. "I don't kare for food. I generally subsist on rations." He was practically a robot with only one goal envisioned in his programming: Kill.
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Re: Trust Your Feelings ((Kitchen))

Postby Connal Reid » Sun Jul 29, 2012 7:24 pm

Riley O'Neil wrote:"Oh."

It was hard to talk to this man. More so then most people. Maybe because he wasn't trying to talk his ear off like a lot of other people did. Nothing wrong with that but talking about someone else and their interest was a lot easier then the other way around. Beginning to feel a bit nausea from the spam, he set down his fork on his plate, frowning. Letting it go to waste would be wrong so he glances cautiously at Kettu. "...M'not hungry anymore.... Want the rest?"

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias had been told time and time before that he was very clear and concise, valuable traits in an agent. To think that his strong points were now his biggest flaws... He didn't know what to do with himself.

His eyes flickered to the spam left untouched on Riley's plate. A gloved hand reached out for the rim of the plate and dragged it closer. Much as he'd done with his own share, Elias cut the spam into neat pieces. He popped them into his mouth one by one, chewing twice before swallowing.

While he ate, Elias said, "I hope we'll be able to work well together."

Riley O'Neil wrote:Was...was that his cue to leave? He wasn't sure, to be honest, and sat there in silence for several minutes, just watching the other eat as he struggled internally for what to do. Now that he was done leaving, excusing himself would, obviously, be the right thing to do.

With his mind set, he got to his feet. "Oi'll, uh, be gettin' back t'bed now. G'night..."

Elias Saaresto wrote:Elias didn't go after him, thinking it best to let the man leave if he so chose. So yes, that was how their conversation and first meeting ended. Awkwardness everywhere.

The End
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