Apocalyptic Baking Escapades

[tara]

Twirling across the spacious kitchen, mug of coffee in one hand, bowl of what's supposed to be chocolate-chip cookie batter (though it's a lot more moist than cookie batter usually is - more like cake batter, except with chocolate chips in it), Tara's as hyperactive as if it were mid-day, despite it being nearly five in the morning. Wasn't like she needed sleep, so that's all okay, she would reason - except she's not really paying any mind to the time, or her awake-ness, or much else aside from the music in her head and trying not to spill any coffee.

She's sort of made enough mess in there that spilled coffee wouldn't actually matter very much, as there's flour and milk and God-only-knows what else all over the tile, which she's tracking around with her bare feet even more.

Ah well, she'll clean that up once she's done making cookies, because it'll be neat to surprise Callie with cookies when she gets up, right? Pssh, of course. What kid doesn't like fresh cookies for breakfast? Insane ones, maybe, but Tara doesn't think Callie's insane - at least not that sort, though insanely awesome is totally confirmed, and definitely not a bad thing, even if there were a way for awesome to be bad. Which she doesn't think there is, really, but, then, she's not really sure, 'cause if something was so awesome it, like, exploded or something, then that couldn't be good, right? Whatever.

It's only been a few days since she was hired, and she totally loves it already. The place is amazing, scenery's beautiful, Callie's brilliant - entertaining and hyper, just like kids should be, and not totally "trained" out of that yet, which is entirely awesome. And there's some kind of fancy shindig down at the castle in a few days that she's allowed to take Cal' to, and she's probably as excited about the idea as the other girl (and they definitely must go shopping before the ball, 'cause it would be fun, and they totally have to look amazing for it and everything).

She sets the mug and the bowl of batter down on the counter, glancing down as she steps in what appears to be eggs, and giggles slightly to herself, eying the rest of the kitchen a second. Yeah, totally made a mess... how'd she manage to get chocolate chips that far up the wall..?

...Maybe she should clean up before she gets it too horribly messy, or before the parents get up and come down here and have a cow or something (mostly Emma, she reasons, would freak,'cause she doesn't think the Doc would really mind as much as his wife would)...

Yes. Clean up.
Good plan.

She abandons the batter on the counter, but takes the mug with her, taking a long drink from it, crossing to the sink and grabbing a cloth hung over the faucet, using her free hand to turn the water on, wet the cloth, and half-heartedly squeeze out some water. Only then does she set the coffee down, and she sets to work trying to undo the apocalyptic mess created by her baking attempts (and she makes a mental note never to try making a full meal, because she thinks she might blow up the world if she did that, and it's never really fun to blow up the world), humming along to the catchy tune drifting through her head (and absently trying to figure out what song it is, because it's very familliar, and it's in her head, so obviously she must know it, right? Unless she invented it, which would be cool and all but she doubts that's the case).

Hopefully she can get this all cleaned up, and bake the cookies, and hide them, and make more coffee (because her coffee is The Most Amazing in the History of Ever, and she isn't entirely sure if the parents drink coffee, but if they do they'll surely appreciate having some made, right?) before anyone gets up.

<Open ;D >

[Creed]

Victor Creed pushed the door open slowly carrying a fiberglas case big enough to hold a body. It was full of gourmet pastries and bagels, fresh fruits and enough other breakfast foodstuffs to more than cater to the needs of the McCoys and the research staff.

The angle he had to hold the case made it so that he smelled the kitchen before he saw it. His eyes were already widened before he lowered it softly to the tile.

"HO-LY baby on a BICYCLE...", he said.

[tara]

Even under the best circumstances, Tara's observation skills, such as they are, aren't exactly... epic. She's easily distracted by even the smallest of things, so surely it's understandable that while trying to recall a song, clean, hum, and generally being who she is, she had no bloody idea someone was about to come into the kitchen up until the point where there's a voice, and she whirls, eyes wide and trying not to start with the glowing right off the bat.

'Course, obscenities aren't exactly cool when they're coming from the random and slightly-burly man wandering into your (well, not hers, but she's in it, and she lives here, so close enough) kitchen at almost-5am. Really doesn't make her reassured he's just there because he belongs there, definitely not, and she absently wonders if anyone in the family has a personal stalker or not.

Then she sort of has to think on it a second, 'cause he looks just about as shocked at the sight of her (or...the kitchen?) as she is to see him there, and so that sort of pushes theory one (evil and disturbing psychotic stalker carrying...some random and large object into the kitchen at 5 for evil purposes) back to second-place and makes her think maybe he has some reason to be there and maybe she'll be in trouble for the huge mess, and so the startled look turns to a sheepish grin, and she glances away from him to eye the room a second.

"...I'll clean it up?" she supplies, tone slightly on the 'hopeful' side of sheepish, like silently asking him not to kill her (or tell the McCoys!) over it because it's temporary and how uncool would it be to get killed-or-fired over something temporary? Very uncool. Very.

That out of the way, she doesn't exactly wait for a response before she's back to bright-and-chipper (because when she's this hyper, it'll take a lot to get her mood down, and while random burly men wandering into the kitchen at this hour is mildly disturbing, she's only a newbie and maybe he's meant to be there and she doesn't know it, so until he does something creepy or evil or something she's going to assume he's innocent-nice-random, not the psychotic-and-murderous sort), moving to the sink and rinsing the flour-sugar-egg-stuff from the cloth, looking over at him through red fringe.

"So, um, what're y'doin' in the kitchen at five in the morning? 'Cause, dude, s'creepy. Creeeepy."

[Creed]

Creed couldn't have looked any more stunned or confused if the girl had sprouted three heads and spoke Chinese...

...which, given the state of things, had happened to Creed one time in the Far East but he didn't like to talk about it.

He still had no idea what the girl was saying.

"What?", he barked with a dumbfounded look. " WHAT?!"

He blinked at the girl. Then at the mess she had made in his kitchen. The mood seemed to worsen, rather than get better. He blinked at the girl again.

"Yer right you'll clean it up. !!"

It was only then that the slow moving train carrying the girl's final comment ran through the intersection between Creed's ears.

"So, um, what're y'doin' in the kitchen at five in the morning? 'Cause, dude, s'creepy. Creeeepy."

The ringing bells and flashing lights of the train's passing could be seen behind Victor Creed's expression.

"I work here", he replied defensively. "."

He looked a little hurt.

[tara]

Well he doesn't seem very thrilled, or very pacified. At all. Um, so that's definitely not good. She sort of recoils a little, more like she's suddenly shy than any actual fear, though, like the sheepish mode was just cranked up a few notches, and she looks slightly offended as the language keeps up.

"Y'know, y'don't have t'be so ...mean. I'm workin' on it - pro'lly won't take too long, right? I mean, it's just cookie dough..." she responds mildly, almost conversationally, offering a tiny smile to show she's not being hostile towards him (because the last thing she wants is for someone like him to think she's being hostile-provoking-whatever and go nuts). She wipes a section of the counter with the cloth absently, sort of smearing the flour across, the wet of the cloth making it turn into paste of sorts.

...Oh, so he works here, too? Okay, that's definitely better than randomly wandering into the kitchen for creepy intent. Though he looks slightly upset (but not in a horrible murderous way this time, which is ...well, not exactly good, 'cause he almost seems sad, but it's better than rageful and insane, at least) that she didn't seem to already know that, and she offers a tentative grin.

"Me too! 'M Tara. I'm new, and definitely haven't seen y'around - or have I? ...Nah, think I'd remember you, right? 'Cause I remember people pretty well, usually, except when I don't - but whatever. What'a you do?" she questions, nearly all in one breath, the way she tends to do when she's mildly nervous (which she definitely sorta is, even though she's pointedly ignoring that fact because she's supposed to be confident and chipper all the time and so that's what she'll do), still wiping at the counter-top almost cheerfully, and reaches over to grab her coffee-mug, pausing before taking a drink from it to motion vaguely over in the direction of the coffeemaker.

"There's coffee, over there. If you want some. It's the best ever." She flashes a slightly proud grin his way, hoping he's going to stop with the explosive obcenities and the angry and snarly, because it's hard to stay cheerful when people are mad-and-scary at you.

[Creed]

Creed let go a low grumble when she called him mean.

It wasn't that he disagreed, he just resented it anyway. That and the fact that she was clearly a couple o' cards shy of a full deck. "I take care'a th' food an' th' kitchens....", he answered, doubting that she did remember people.

But then she made him laugh. "Darlin'...", he said with an odd grin and a shake of his head. He didn't have to move any more from where he was to tell that she wrong. The smell of the best ever coffee had upset him more than the mess. "...if ya think that's good coffee..." He dropped the big case to the floor and slid a heavy knapsack from his shoulder. It was almost as big as she was.

"....you ain't tasted nothin' yet...", he told her.

There wasn't a sliver of doubt in his mind.

[tara]

...Is he growling? 'Cause that sounded like a growl, and he seems like the sort to growl, and ...well, at least he's not actually doing anything dangerous-snarly-rawr, so she supposes she can handle the growling, so long as it doesn't turn into anything scarier.

"I take care'a th' food an' th' kitchens...."

"Oh, that's cool. ...Guess that'd be why the mess is so important, then, huh? Totally didn't mean'a mess it up like this or anything." She waves the hand holding the cloth (trailing drops of water and the flour-stuff along as she does) to gesture vaguely towards the room and the condition it's in, then flashes a sheepish grin. "Sorry 'bout that."

And then... he laughed? That's cool, laughing is good! It's the best medicine, or so she's told - though really, she thinks caffeine and-or sugar works best at curing things (except it you're allergic to either of them, 'cause then that would make things worse not better), but whatever, laughter's always good too.

"Darlin'...if ya think that's good coffee..."

He drops the huge thing he brought in onto the floor, and she tilts her head as he unslings a large bag off one shoulder, partially curious about what he's doing, but mostly about what he's talking about because of course her coffee's amazing! He hasn't tried it, so how would he be able to tell? Unless he can taste things without tasting them, which would be neat... and also bad, if things you didn't want to taste ended up being tasted, right? Because then that would suck. But then he's talking again, and she drops that random and strange tangent of thought to pay attention to what he's saying.

"...you ain't tasted nothin' yet..."

"Ooh, really?" And while she should probably be more skeptical and hold firm to her beliefs the amazingness of her coffee, she can't help but be very curious, and almost excited at the idea that, dude, someone else around here knows how to make proper coffee, and is proud enough of the ability to want to share it! So her tone is closer to hyper and excited-curious than anything dismissive or at all against the idea, and she eyes the bag he's holding a second before the grin brightens even more, as she motions to said bag.

"...Dude, is all that coffee-beans?" The bag's massive - like, big enough she could fit in it, probably? - and if all that's coffee? It's probably enough to be caffeinated for a month! Probably longer, to most people, but the speed she drinks coffee at? A year's supply would be gone in a month. Maybe less. Whatever, though.