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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 20, 2010 22:42:01 GMT -5
::Pietro began cracking the eggs into the skillet. He briefly considered what was available in the refrigerator before saying,:: "Orange juice, if there is any."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 20, 2010 22:44:53 GMT -5
She nodded and went back to the refrigerator, getting out the OJ and also getting out butter and jelly. She set it on the counter in front of Skids. "How long since you've eaten?"
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Post by skids on Jan 20, 2010 22:52:03 GMT -5
Skids blushed at the question. She didn't want to admit that she'd stolen the last thing she'd eaten; a trio of apples she'd shoved in her pockets from a local fruit vendor. "Last night," she answered. She looked away and added, "I had an apple."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 20, 2010 22:53:49 GMT -5
Ty nodded in understanding. "You're going to feel like you want to scarf everything down in 30 seconds. Don't; it'll just make you sick. Believe me, I've been there."
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Post by skids on Jan 21, 2010 8:21:17 GMT -5
Resisting the urge to pout, Skids nodded. "Okay," she agreed. "Small bites."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 21, 2010 21:54:01 GMT -5
The whistle on the kettle began to sound, and Ty went back to the stove to pour two cups of hot chocolate. She added marshmallows, then came back and set one cup before Skids. "Same idea with this. It's hot."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 21, 2010 21:55:15 GMT -5
::Pietro had nothing to contribute to the conversation between the two of them, nor did he have the desire; however, it was sound advice. As he had been raised, if one had not eaten properly, one was fed only thin broth to acclimate. While Rossignol and Skids talked, he concentrated on the skillet, and added bread to the industrial toaster.::
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Post by skids on Jan 21, 2010 22:16:03 GMT -5
Skids gingerly took the mug of hot chocolate from Typhoid, murmuring, "Thank you," before putting it at her lips. She hadn't had hot chocolate since her aunt had died, and she was more eager than she appeared about tasting it once more. But Typhoid was right; it was hot. She could feel the liquid's temperature through the ceramic cup it was held in.
She inhaled first, savoring the rich aroma of it. Three bite-sized marshmallows floated on top of the drink, and she flicked her tongue out to taste the droplets of chocolate that clung to them. She shivered and giggled spontaneously.
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 21, 2010 22:20:16 GMT -5
Typhoid couldn't help chuckling a little as she made her way back to the stove. "If I had to guess, the Professor just inherited another runaway," she said softly to Pietro in German.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 21, 2010 22:27:18 GMT -5
::Pietro gave a short nod, but otherwise was not particularly conversational. He concentrated on cooking, while assuring himself that if any of Skids' Morlocks arrived at the Institute, he would beat them within an inch of their lives.::
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 21, 2010 22:40:01 GMT -5
He was obviously concerned, much more then she was. If the Morlocks had wanted to kill her, they would have sent someone much more intimidating, particularly to end up smack in the middle of a school full of her friends. The albino protege of Masque's from the bar, for example, although Ty was fairly sure the woman was dead. A shapeshifter was always a possibility, but even then, they'd have to get past Xavier's telepathy, which wasn't an easy thing. She could never figure out how she had done it when she first came here, and she'd never asked the Professor, but he'd more then demonstrated his ability to recognize a threat long ago.
This person...just seemed like a scared, hungry little girl to her, and until she had reason to believe otherwise, she'd treat her that way.
She crossed the kitchen and got out another glass, filling it with orange juice for Pietro and setting it on the counter. She got out plates and silverware, set them out, then sat down next to Skids with her own chocolate to wait for Pietro to finish. He was much faster then her; she would just be in his way at this point.
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Post by skids on Jan 22, 2010 11:50:57 GMT -5
Skids watched the two for a moment, hearing Typhoid speak in a language she didn't know. It sounded like German or Russian or something harsh. Pietro didn't respond beyond a nod and going back to cooking; man, he was fast. Just watching him move made Skids jealous, so she concentrated on her hot chocolate.
Knowing it was still hot, she blew gently on it and took a careful sip. The warm taste made her want to close her eyes and smile. Instead, she turned to Typhoid, who now sat beside her. "This is delicious," she said. "Thank you."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 22, 2010 21:25:22 GMT -5
"You're welcome," Typhoid said softly, taking a sip of her own chocolate. "It's better when there's a cube of chocolate on the bottom, but I couldn't find the Hershey bars."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 22, 2010 21:53:46 GMT -5
::Whilst the eggs and sausage cooked, and the bread toasted, Pietro drained his glass of orange juice and then crossed to the refrigerator for a refill. He was as patient as he always was whist waiting for food to cook; that process he couldn't speed, only the filler.::
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Post by skids on Jan 22, 2010 23:08:49 GMT -5
The chocolaty beverage was cool enough now that Skids could drain half in one gulp with only an above warm, but below hot, sensation. It made her shiver slightly, having been in the cold air outside. (AN: I assume its January)
Setting the cup down, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, only then realizing she should wash her hands before she ate. Getting to her feet, she headed to the kitchen sink to do just that.
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