vor | Fifth Cream Cake: [Action/Voice]

[Almost two weeks spent in Malnosso captivity and what does Gregor have to show for it?

Lots and lots of band-aids, mostly. Also a minor cold that has turned into a chesty cough.

Instead of any great torture, drugs, or whatever he'd been expecting, the Malnosso mostly took DNA samples. Blood samples. Tissue samples. He's from further in Earth-universe's future than most besides Ivan, so maybe his specific point in human evolution was of interest. He understands the "lab rat" metaphor pretty well now. There hadn't been a lot of space in his cell, so he's a little stiff and sore. At least the hallucinations are gone. That had been the worst part--having to assure himself that this was a normal reaction to solitary confinement. He slowly heaves himself to his feet, blindly scrabbling for his journal. Writing is not easy with all his bandaged fingertips, so he speaks, sounding hoarse, slightly congested, and exhausted.]

Ivan. [A pause. ] Buffy. Adele. Whoever's...interested, this is Greg. I'm back. [He coughs a couple of times, fairly hard.] The Malnosso...anyway, I'm fine. It...wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm heading home now. Did someone take care of my horse?

[He'll take about fifteen minutes to walk home from his spot in the woods.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's no walk in the park -- being chosen. Sometimes you gotta live someone else's life besides your own.

But...I'd be honoured to accept lessons, Greg.

[He glances up to meet her eyes. Trying to decide if she's exaggerating. Looking for clues.]

[ to be fair, it can occasionally be tough to tell. her eyes held onto that slightly jesting gleam while everything else was all sincerity. buffy often joked through her seriousness.

but against the silence: ] Besides, seems like the skill could come in handy if you're looking to popularize the transport mode.

It probably could. [He finishes creating his perfectly homogenous porridge mixture and takes up a spoonful.] I think I'd...like teaching you.

[He pops the spoon into his mouth, trying to assure himself he is not blushing or about to blush.]

...Five minutes into the first lesson and you'll be taking that back. I'm a horrible student. I have no sense of discipline, I love to talk back, and I'm lousy with homework.

[ she wants to swing this conversation back towards levity. even if she didn't consciously recognize his capacity to blush, there was some sense of self-preservation that kicked in. ]

I suspect I'll enjoy your company anyway.

[Another delicate spoonful of porridge. It's probably a little like watching a cat eat.]

...On your head be it.

[ in fact, she mistakes his delicate eating for hesitation: ] It's okay, right?

[A glance.]

It's fine. Why?

If I'd just been locked up for several days? I'd be shovelling even porridge into my mouth at a superhuman speed. You are hungry, right?

[He nods.] Of course I am. [With the uncomfortable feeling that she's offended, he takes a larger spoonful and downs it a little more quickly. It's still sort of like watching a cat eat. Just...a hungrier cat than the last one.]

[ a touch awkwardly: ] Do you, uhm, need anything else?

...A cup of coffee, if you wouldn't mind.

[ she stands abruptly. ]

I don't mind one bit. Not one iota.

Milk? Sugar?

Please.

A coffee drinker after my own heart. I've met too many people here who just take it black. How dull.

[ there was space between the top cupboards and the counter to peek back into the living room from the kitchen, so she kept an eye on him while setting up the machine. ]

I have a sweet tooth. [He takes another spoonful of porridge, careful to do it in such a way where the remaining porridge is making a sort of wall. It's like the parting of the Red Sea, if the Red Sea all went to one side instead of being split down the middle.]

Hence the maple syrup. And the...what else did you say?

Cream cake? Sure could go for one of those.

[Ah, Gregor's favorite.]

They're best when they're small. I've been looking for a Barrayaran recipe so I can give it to the baker in town.

[ she sets out a pair of mugs and keeps talking in a raised, distracted voice: ] What makes a cream cake Barrayaran, then?

I don't bake.

And I don't surf, but I know a good California wave when I see one.

[ she lines up the milk and sugar. just gotta wait for the coffee, now. ]

I still couldn't tell you how it's done. I just...know one when I eat one.

My money -- if I had any money -- is on whatever makes the ingredients special to that planet. Right? Like how peaches from one state taste better than peaches from another. Or how the chocolate bars we could get at the newsagents in Scotland tasted way better than the ones back home.

The recipes might be the same, but the bits are all different. Localized.

Maybe. [Another spoonful.] Although most planets don't naturally grow Earth-descended plants very well, not without terraforming. Sergyar is pretty exceptional that way. It's one reason we snapped it up when we found it.

So, what? Greenhouses? Or is that still too natural?

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