[She blinks once, not taking his meaning, but he's gone before she can ask him what the hell he means. By the time he's back he's got feathers and a smile which- actually is probably something you could say about Sturmhond often enough. She's still not sure why he doesn't have a big hat.]
Well, alright. But I was talking to get the clumps out, you know.
[But she takes it anyway, spinning it once between her fingers, smooth line of the quill before dipping the whole thing in the little excuse for a pot. Swirls it around quick before drawing it back out.]
[ He frowns into the pot now, wondering how they're going to manage that. A thin piece of material, maybe? He doesn't know if he has anything that would work, but after a moment, he goes to retrieve an old pillowcase. It's the standard CDC kind.
He holds it out. ]
Try this. And I really think that's more your shade, by the way.
[Not like Tess did, either. Not real cooking, but it was there in the back of her mind, old, old memories. It'd be a pain, but it'd get the job done neat enough. When he comes back with the case she takes it with a crooked smile.
That wouldn't do for cooking, but no one was going to be eating these. Hopefully. Except maybe some of those little furry bastards.]
That'll do it.
[Twists the feather once more, same crooked smile before setting it down] You think so?
[She wouldn't have picked it, awful bright, but she's fairly certain he's joking anyway.]
Need another container. You got another one of those catfood tins?
There are many things in this world that trained professionals can do better than me, Tess, and cooking is one of them.
[ Anyway, why struggle through cookery lessons when you can employ someone who's already done it? That's his philosophy.
At the question, he reaches to pluck the other tin from among his pile of equipment, and holds it out to her. ]
Just the one. I'm starting to run out of containers, at this stage. If we need more, I'll steal some of Athos' old wine bottles. He'll not mind if we don't tell him.
You find yourself a professional chef around here, you let me know. I'll be sure to make friends.
[And it's another joke, and another piece, fit together. Nothing shocking, Sturmhond knew fancy dances and wore fancy clothes so all her sarcastic quips about pirates aside she'd bet he's something a lot more noble than that. Not like she was an expert in that sort of thing. What was Corvo? A lord? Something like that maybe, but younger, a lot less fucked over.
She takes the tin neatly, settles down on her heel to place it on a semi-level surface, opening the pillow case and slotting the thin fabric over the top, fingers pressing down, some sort of wholly disgusting pie.]
Might be a problem, this stuff probably looks enough like wine to fool someone desperate enough.
[And the charming, quietly sad gentleman seemed, frequently, desperate.]
Alright, lets see if this stuff is thin enough to pass.
[She doesn't ask before picking up the dye-filled tin, just taps her thumb and forefinger over the rim a couple of times to make sure she wouldn't burn herself before bringing it back over the makeshift sieve and pouring, carefully. It filled up the depression in the fabric and managed to not slosh over the edge. Then it was a very, very delicate task. Gathering the edges of the material up into a single point and lifting, slow, out of the lower container, leaving mostly clean dye behind. Up until he was completely out of it, hanging over. Still a little drippy but she fixed that quick, wrapping her hand around the sodden mess and squeezing out the last from where it was mingled with fabric and flora. Leaving her with a very, very purple hand.]
Well, you can't make an omelette. [Shaking drips off of her finger. Watch out pal, it stains.]
[ Sturmhond looks up at those words about Athos. That’s interesting. He smiles slightly, curious. He hasn’t often seen her and Athos together, though he knew they were at least familiar. ]
You like him.
[ And is concerned about him. It’s nice to see; Athos could do worse than Tess. By all accounts, he already has.
Those thoughts are interrupted when the solution spills, and he leans forward in alarm. Something he hadn’t thought of until now – what if the juice in those plants is corrosive? It’s the kind of thing that wouldn’t have been a problem if he were doing this at home, because he’d be using chemicals that he knew. That is not the case here. When he sees it starting to spill, he leans quickly forward, about to stop Tess.
Too late, of course. Unhappy, he reaches for the kettle of clean water, and lifts it up. ]
At least with that we know the colour took. Just out of interest, it’s not doing anything too despicable to your hand, is it?
[And she's not terribly surprised that it's something Sturmhond would catch on to. He kept his close, and she wasn't blind enough to miss that Athos was one of his. Good, someone had to be, and the younger one didn't seem like he could be trusted to be responsible for himself, let alone for someone else.]
Well enough. He's good for a laugh. [Which is so untrue it's barely even a lie anymore. No attempt to pull one over on him. Deflecting? Oh, maybe, but when was she not.
She liked Athos, but she kept him at arms length. She figured he wouldn't like her near as much if he knew her, which would be a real shame. Few enough people here she counted as adult. Even fewer she counted as good enough drinking company.
She catches his aborted little motion and tries not to smile at it.]
Nah. I already messed with them a bit when I was out gathering them. [Cut a stem and swiped it along her arm, waiting to see if anything bad would happen. It was a messy sort of test, but better to end up with stinging nettles on a one inch patch than hoist an armful of them and pay for it later.
Besides, Hinata had been helping her, and he was- less than cautious.
She held her hand out to him and his kettle, attention drawn back down to the clear dye.]
I think we're good for whatever comes next. This is going to take a long damn time. You know if those buckets in the rover are heat-proof?
Is he? [ Good for a laugh, that is. Even smiles are rare from Athos.
Sturmhond can’t help smiling himself, at the image. ] Well, don’t
tell him so. You’d probably offend him.
[ He wonders now what his friend thinks of her. Whether this is
something that would interest him. Perhaps he’ll ask; if there’s anyone who
deserves a bit of happiness, it’s Athos.
In the meantime, he pours warm water over the purple stain on Tess’
fingers. That doesn’t actually do a lot to remove it, which says good
things about its potential as a dye. The paintbombs might be potent,
though. He lets her go, and then stands up with a shake of his
head. ]
I don’t know, but we needn’t put them over the fire, anyway. They’ll take
boiling water, and now that we know this works, we might as well use it.
Does your rover have a kettle we can borrow?
[(OH GOD STURMHOND DON'T TELL HIM HE'LL NEVER FORGIVE HER)
She huffed, a small excuse for a laugh, but genuine enough. Offended seemed likely. Deeply wounded, maybe. He was a serious kind of man, at least from what she'd seen.]
I think that's advice I can take.
[There's a certain casualness to the way she lets him pour the water over her hand, barely paying attention as he does, rubs her fingers together distracted and flicks the water off when he lets her go. Like she's used to having other people do things for her without much in the way of thanks. Barely notices the stains, not the worst stuff she's had clinging to her skin.]
True enough. They might stain, hopefully they don't take it out of our paychecks. I got a coffee pot, which should work. Between that and a couple of buckets it seems like we can get a pretty good batch going.
[A few different colors, at least. Not like that was really what she'd been aiming for. Hopefully they all wouldn't stain as bad as the purple.]
If the others give up their colours so easily, we could have a good range. Time will tell if we've kept the glow.
[ But he hopes so. It would make for a colourful game, and they'd be able to play it safely during the dark hours here. That appeals to the side of him that's fond of aesthetics, but in truth, it's good for marksmanship, too. Their time on Macha has been proof enough that you don't always have to shoot in perfect conditions.
While she makes ready to go, he stands and moves over to where he stores the kindling for his fires. ]
I'll get some more heat started. By the time we're done, we should have enough molten metal to make the casings.
[ ooc: do you want to handwave the rest of this or keep going?? ]
Either way I guess they'll do. [But the slightly distant tone suggests she'd probably like the glow better, too.
No one was immune from cool factor.]
Sounds like a plan.
[There's a slight but noticeable hesitation before she continues] Thanks for the help.
[And then she's gone. Around to the front of the rover and out into camp. And she doesn't come back until she's got the things they needed, which she figures is enough time she could pretend she hadn't said thank you.]
((OOC: Seems like a good a place as any to stop :>))
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Not properly, anyway. But he stands up, all the same. ]
Give me a moment.
[ He heads into the rover, and comes back with something white and fluffy in his hand. Smiling he hands it over. ]
Goose feather. Try that, it should let you see the colour.
no subject
Well, alright. But I was talking to get the clumps out, you know.
[But she takes it anyway, spinning it once between her fingers, smooth line of the quill before dipping the whole thing in the little excuse for a pot. Swirls it around quick before drawing it back out.]
I don't think it's your color.
[Not nearly teal enough.]
no subject
[ He frowns into the pot now, wondering how they're going to manage that. A thin piece of material, maybe? He doesn't know if he has anything that would work, but after a moment, he goes to retrieve an old pillowcase. It's the standard CDC kind.
He holds it out. ]
Try this. And I really think that's more your shade, by the way.
no subject
[Not like Tess did, either. Not real cooking, but it was there in the back of her mind, old, old memories. It'd be a pain, but it'd get the job done neat enough. When he comes back with the case she takes it with a crooked smile.
That wouldn't do for cooking, but no one was going to be eating these. Hopefully. Except maybe some of those little furry bastards.]
That'll do it.
[Twists the feather once more, same crooked smile before setting it down] You think so?
[She wouldn't have picked it, awful bright, but she's fairly certain he's joking anyway.]
Need another container. You got another one of those catfood tins?
no subject
[ Anyway, why struggle through cookery lessons when you can employ someone who's already done it? That's his philosophy.
At the question, he reaches to pluck the other tin from among his pile of equipment, and holds it out to her. ]
Just the one. I'm starting to run out of containers, at this stage. If we need more, I'll steal some of Athos' old wine bottles. He'll not mind if we don't tell him.
no subject
[And it's another joke, and another piece, fit together. Nothing shocking, Sturmhond knew fancy dances and wore fancy clothes so all her sarcastic quips about pirates aside she'd bet he's something a lot more noble than that. Not like she was an expert in that sort of thing. What was Corvo? A lord? Something like that maybe, but younger, a lot less fucked over.
She takes the tin neatly, settles down on her heel to place it on a semi-level surface, opening the pillow case and slotting the thin fabric over the top, fingers pressing down, some sort of wholly disgusting pie.]
Might be a problem, this stuff probably looks enough like wine to fool someone desperate enough.
[And the charming, quietly sad gentleman seemed, frequently, desperate.]
Alright, lets see if this stuff is thin enough to pass.
[She doesn't ask before picking up the dye-filled tin, just taps her thumb and forefinger over the rim a couple of times to make sure she wouldn't burn herself before bringing it back over the makeshift sieve and pouring, carefully. It filled up the depression in the fabric and managed to not slosh over the edge. Then it was a very, very delicate task. Gathering the edges of the material up into a single point and lifting, slow, out of the lower container, leaving mostly clean dye behind. Up until he was completely out of it, hanging over. Still a little drippy but she fixed that quick, wrapping her hand around the sodden mess and squeezing out the last from where it was mingled with fabric and flora. Leaving her with a very, very purple hand.]
Well, you can't make an omelette. [Shaking drips off of her finger. Watch out pal, it stains.]
no subject
You like him.
[ And is concerned about him. It’s nice to see; Athos could do worse than Tess. By all accounts, he already has.
Those thoughts are interrupted when the solution spills, and he leans forward in alarm. Something he hadn’t thought of until now – what if the juice in those plants is corrosive? It’s the kind of thing that wouldn’t have been a problem if he were doing this at home, because he’d be using chemicals that he knew. That is not the case here. When he sees it starting to spill, he leans quickly forward, about to stop Tess.
Too late, of course. Unhappy, he reaches for the kettle of clean water, and lifts it up. ]
At least with that we know the colour took. Just out of interest, it’s not doing anything too despicable to your hand, is it?
no subject
[And she's not terribly surprised that it's something Sturmhond would catch on to. He kept his close, and she wasn't blind enough to miss that Athos was one of his. Good, someone had to be, and the younger one didn't seem like he could be trusted to be responsible for himself, let alone for someone else.]
Well enough. He's good for a laugh. [Which is so untrue it's barely even a lie anymore. No attempt to pull one over on him. Deflecting? Oh, maybe, but when was she not.
She liked Athos, but she kept him at arms length. She figured he wouldn't like her near as much if he knew her, which would be a real shame. Few enough people here she counted as adult. Even fewer she counted as good enough drinking company.
She catches his aborted little motion and tries not to smile at it.]
Nah. I already messed with them a bit when I was out gathering them. [Cut a stem and swiped it along her arm, waiting to see if anything bad would happen. It was a messy sort of test, but better to end up with stinging nettles on a one inch patch than hoist an armful of them and pay for it later.
Besides, Hinata had been helping her, and he was- less than cautious.
She held her hand out to him and his kettle, attention drawn back down to the clear dye.]
I think we're good for whatever comes next. This is going to take a long damn time. You know if those buckets in the rover are heat-proof?
no subject
Is he? [ Good for a laugh, that is. Even smiles are rare from Athos. Sturmhond can’t help smiling himself, at the image. ] Well, don’t tell him so. You’d probably offend him.
[ He wonders now what his friend thinks of her. Whether this is something that would interest him. Perhaps he’ll ask; if there’s anyone who deserves a bit of happiness, it’s Athos.
In the meantime, he pours warm water over the purple stain on Tess’ fingers. That doesn’t actually do a lot to remove it, which says good things about its potential as a dye. The paintbombs might be potent, though. He lets her go, and then stands up with a shake of his head. ]
I don’t know, but we needn’t put them over the fire, anyway. They’ll take boiling water, and now that we know this works, we might as well use it. Does your rover have a kettle we can borrow?
no subject
She huffed, a small excuse for a laugh, but genuine enough. Offended seemed likely. Deeply wounded, maybe. He was a serious kind of man, at least from what she'd seen.]
I think that's advice I can take.
[There's a certain casualness to the way she lets him pour the water over her hand, barely paying attention as he does, rubs her fingers together distracted and flicks the water off when he lets her go. Like she's used to having other people do things for her without much in the way of thanks. Barely notices the stains, not the worst stuff she's had clinging to her skin.]
True enough. They might stain, hopefully they don't take it out of our paychecks. I got a coffee pot, which should work. Between that and a couple of buckets it seems like we can get a pretty good batch going.
[A few different colors, at least. Not like that was really what she'd been aiming for. Hopefully they all wouldn't stain as bad as the purple.]
Just a sec, I'll run over and grab them.
no subject
[ But he hopes so. It would make for a colourful game, and they'd be able to play it safely during the dark hours here. That appeals to the side of him that's fond of aesthetics, but in truth, it's good for marksmanship, too. Their time on Macha has been proof enough that you don't always have to shoot in perfect conditions.
While she makes ready to go, he stands and moves over to where he stores the kindling for his fires. ]
I'll get some more heat started. By the time we're done, we should have enough molten metal to make the casings.
[ ooc: do you want to handwave the rest of this or keep going?? ]
no subject
No one was immune from cool factor.]
Sounds like a plan.
[There's a slight but noticeable hesitation before she continues] Thanks for the help.
[And then she's gone. Around to the front of the rover and out into camp. And she doesn't come back until she's got the things they needed, which she figures is enough time she could pretend she hadn't said thank you.]
((OOC: Seems like a good a place as any to stop :>))