RP:A Kit in the Kitchens

Hanging Corpse Tavern Kitchens

Cuki stands amist the chaos of the kitchen. Though the busy hours had long since passed the late coming partons of the Corpse still need full bellies and statisifed tongues. So the Chef had sent home the rest of his cooks, taking the manning of the kitchen by himself. Well it seems attempting to do it all by himself has backfired. Cuki was in a pickle as the orders started to back up...and no one likes to wait on their food. Frantically the Monk ran back and forth trying to mash these potatoes, chop that pineapple, or cook that peice of meat just right. No. This was not good.

Satoshi just so happens to be one of those patrons waiting on a meal. But she also happens to be a less patient one and as such, while fully abusing her status in Vailkrin, the feline saunters into the kitchens with tail flicking sharply. "Oi~! Whe-" Of course, that demanding tone dies on her lips as she spots the solitary monk scrambling from one half-made dish to another and she quirks a brow in wonder. Cuki may be highly talented, but not even he could manage this alone. "Erm.. where are the other chefs...?" She'd offer to help, if her cooking wasn't known to kill folk.

Cuki twitches at the sound of a complaining customer. Great. More to deal with right now. He really needs some loud mouthed...wait. Cuki knows that mouth. The kitten! He really didn't pay too much attention to what she said specifically, just something about chefs. A brillant idea! "Yes! That would work just fine!" While moving a pot he grabs an apron laying on a nearby table and shoves it over Satoshi's head. It was a frilly sort of thing which made it rather unbecoming of the Feline, but it would have to do. Well no time to waste. "Hurry! Pull that mutton off the fire!" He says pointing to the large, dented oven nearby.

Satoshi isn't quite sure what's left her more stunned, her sudden addition to the staff, that Sven-awful girlish apron, or being asked to remove something from a fire. The latter request also provokes a shudder from the chilly feline as she shoots a pleading look that practicularly screamed, "Do I have to?" toward Cuki. Not that he sees it anyway with all his rushing about. Still, the monk had asked her to do something, and he seemed rather urgent about it... far be it from her to ignore his requests. And so it's with unhappy grumbling that the mage goes to the oven, a deep, steadying breath taken and hands slipping into the sleeves of her coat before they're plunged toward the indicated mutton. Cringing at her proximity to the fire all the while, Satoshi pulls the cooking meat out and holds it up proudly... and without the pan it was originally in, leaving juices dripping on the floor and running down her sleeves to stain white fabric as she announces, "Got it! Where does it go~?"

Satoshi shouted, "Ouch! That's hot! Where's it go?!"

Cuki forced down a chuckle at the sight of the apron and her actually following his orders. In spite of how overwhelmed he was at the moment it absolutely made his day...Oh crap. That skirt steak was catching on fire. No-no-no. That was suppose to be medium rare. Quickly he flicks the meat onto a plate and pushes some onions, peppers, and tomatoes. There. Instant meal. Wait. Was she still holding that mutton asking where it went? Really? "On the table!" Which table? He really wasn't that specific. Although he did feel slightly guilty at feeling aggrivated at the Feline. She was helping. So Cuki kinda just throws in an afterthought, "Please be careful. Don't hurt yourself." After all a kitchen can be a dangerous place. She needed to pick up the pace though. "Now cut all those onions and throw them into the pot next to you!" A rather sharp knife is thrust into her hands as the Monk zips around her.

Satoshi hardly cares which table Cuki may have actually intended as she's busy yelping and juggling the meat from hand to hand in a frantic attempt to avoid further burns, and so when the answer is given the mutton is promptly dropped on the nearest table. And directly amidst a pile of peeled potato skins. But that doesn't matter once a knife is shoved into her hand and a new order is given, and for a moment she stands warily eyeing the sharpened object as if expecting it to leap up and slash her throat. Flicking her gaze to the waiting onions, Satoshi shrugs and tosses the knife over her shoulder--embedding the blade into the wall not far from Cuki's left side--before she unsheathes her frosty katana. Those poor onions didn't know what hit them, never have their kind been forced to endure such an awkward slicing from a katana--of all things, dicing through them in uneven cuts and tears until they can hardly pass for onions any longer. By that point Satoshi sheaths the weapon-made-utensil--sniffling all the while--and unceremoniously dumps the massacred vegetables into the pot before asking anxiously, "Now what...?"

Cuki was ever so glad he did not notice the katana until she started to sheath it. Who else would that? What else could he think? I mean she was simply adorably absurd. Cuki did not have much time to guide the Feline though. The incoming orders had stopped, but there where still many left. While Satoshi had been attacking the onions with a huge sword, Cuki managed to get a few out. Grilled Salmon, out. Black-and-Blue Steak, out. Gruel with bird eggs, out. Even a pie. Delicious apple pie with sugar right on top. Yum. As Cuki takes off the oven mitts he pats Satoshi on the head, between her ears. "I think I am fine. You did a..." Cuki really wanted to say wonderful, but sadly he wouldn't lie to the Cryomancer, "job." Not really any other way he could put it. "You're help was...priceless."

Satoshi is in the midst of trying to scoop Darcy from a pot of boiling water he's tumbled into when she's pet by the monk, halting her attempts to save the melting mouse to offer Cuki a knowing grin. "You're just lucky most of your customers are already dead, that way me in the kitchen won't result in adding a mortality rate to the menu." Nodding matter-of-factly, and obviously taking no offense in her unorthodox kitchen techniques, the mage slips out of the apron only to drape it over the monk's head. "You can have that back. Or burn it. Fire might actually have a good use then. And..." a fleeting glance is sent to the patch of water slightly whiter than the rest of the froth, the remnants of her poor little secretary before she shrugs the loss off, "is there any more of that salmon left~? I never did get my dinner."