8024/A Condiment Conundrum

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A Condiment Conundrum
Date of Scene: 28 September 2021
Location: Main Kitchen
Synopsis: Dashenka is trying to figure out how to feed herself outside of mealtime when Clarice, Roxxi and Michael come in to help, (with special guest appearance by Ellie). Roxxi makes her a sandwich, they talk some about Dashenka's past, and Dashenka discovers pickles.
Cast of Characters: Dashenka Ivanov, Clarice Ferguson, Michael Erickson, Roxxi Smith, Negasonic




Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
It's been a while since dinner, and Dashenka has filled her evening with a good workout. This is good because this broke her normal schedule. She had played pool in the time she usually uses to work out, determined to get better at the game. (She still isn't sure she enjoys it, but it's a challenge to be overcome).

The problem with that, however, is that she's gotten a bit hungry. Usually she does her workouts in the morning before breakfast so she can eat a hearty meal, but now.... well... here she is in the kitchen to get herself a late night snack.

Problem is, there's too many choices, and she's entirely unclear what is and isn't snack food. So she's standing there, with every cabinet open and the fridge looking at her choices and her brain just spinning trying to figure out what... and how... to make.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice was here, meeting with some of the X-Men to talk about the upcoming offensive against the Chinese 'Mutant Police' program - and she'd brought apple fritters with her from the Asteroid. In point of fact, she's brought //too many// apple fritters with her. Now she has a donut box that's still more than half-filled with the things, and that's what brings her into the kitchen, shouldering the heavy wooden door open as she makes her way towards the center island to drop off the snacks - and taking a moment to study Daskenka's baffled form.
    "Try one of these," she suggests simply. "I love 'em." Dropping the box, she pops open the lid, tearing a fritter in half to hold part out to Dashenka, as she bites into the other half.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Mutant police? Certainly nothing that Michael's heard of - but he's not privy to the inner workings of mutant liberation efforts, being just this guy who's shown up to teach history. Galactic history. Of another galaxy. Always in his gray suit, with a formality that only seems to punctuate just how /odd/ he is, the otherwise inoffensively handsome Mr. Erickson enters the kitchen to squint at the interior, lingering by the doorway.

    "...this is a very large kitchen," he notes in his somewhat gravelly baritone voice, very much the soul of, uh, eloquence. "Good evening, you two."

Roxxi Smith has posed:
     Roxxi was almost always willing to eat. As soon as she discovered that the kitchen was open and available to students, she could often be found on her way going to or returning from it. Such was the case now, dressed in a new pair of cotton candy blue PJs and ridiculously sparkly unicorn slippers. The young woman all but collides into Mike's back, having not expected a gathering.

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
"Privyet, Ms. Clarice," Dashenka greets. Cool blue eyes turn to the offered donut and she takes it from the purple mutant's hand. She sniffs at it tentatively and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It is sweet," she observes. "Too sweet. So much food and drink is too sweet here." She casts her eyes back up to Clarice and asks, "Is this an American thing, or is this a Xavier's thing?"

Michael gets a curt nod of the head and a, "Privyet. We have not met. I am Dashenka. It is good to meet you." Her stoic expression and demeanor belies passionless disinterest.

Roxxi gets another curt nod. "Privyet friend Roxxi. Perhaps you can help."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Oh, it's an American thing," Clarice confirms with a laugh. "I'll admit, these are better with coffee or tea. But these aren't as sweet as a lot of other American treats." She puts one hand on the counter, and with a jump, and push from her hand, ends up seatd on it, her feet dangling idly.
    "If you think this kitchen is large, you should see the one on the Asteroid. But that place was build to house thousands, so..." The kitchen was industrial, and rather impressive. And also generally off-limits to most people.
    "Please, help yourself to a fritter if you like."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Thas'ko vadnic," Michael murmurs to himself, watching the young women poke at foot and then -- getting bumped into by Roxxi, to whom he offers a gentle "Good evening, Miss Smith" before turning his attention back to the others. "I am Mr. Erickson," he informs them both. "I am a guest teacher here." Which is why he's not prodding too much into why students are swarming the kitchen past midnight instead of being in their dorms. Cos it ain't his gaaaaaame.

    

Roxxi Smith has posed:
     Muffins, the argyle sock puppet had entered the kitchen draped over one of Roxxi's forearms. However, as she enters more fully, scuffling her unicorn-clad feet, she tucks him into one of the pockets of her PJ pants. Of course, she leaves his 'face' to poke out of said pocket.
     "Hi Mr. Erickson! Oh hi, Dash!" The hour dims her effusiveness, not one bit. Clarice, being the unknown entity, just gets a merry wave and cheerful smile.
    "Want me to finish that for you?" She asks of Dash and her bitten into half a fritter. She doesn't seem to mind at all it has a bite already taken from it. She joins the much larger student in front of the fridge and ponders. "I'm sure there's likely some cheese and cold cuts in here.. " She mutters, reaching for the crisper drawers. "I think you'd like that much better." She replies, in answer to Dash's request for advice.

Negasonic has posed:
Ellie is up awful late, just assuming the time anyways. Maybe it's awful early, but that would be relative to the person right? She's kind of a night person, so even if it's early afternoon... it's pretty late for her? Or it's late for them, but that explains why she's up... either way.

For someone.

It's pretty late.

And Ellie is up.

Coming to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. With her cellphone up in her face casting a white glow across her pale features unadorned by makeup due to the aforementioned her or your lateness. And the fact that she doesn't need to put up any pretences here in the mansion! Most people leave her alone without wearing the usual black 'leave me alone' face paint of her people.

Suffice that she is wearing a Type O Negative t-shirt and black/green flannel pajama pants over big black cat slippers.

Right into a whole gaggle of people. Blue eyes glance up over her phone at them... then over at the cabinet she must get to, by passing them...

Connundrum.

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
"I agree," Dashenka says to Clarice. "It is not as sweet as soda." She silently hands the rest of her fritter to Roxxi who seems more than eager to eat the rest of it. Waste not want not. "Was not allowed in kitchen at the Project. All I have seen is the one my foster parents have and this one."

She watches Roxxi with curiosity as she pokes around the fridge for sandwich makings. "Cheese I understand. I do not know cold cuts."

Michael gets another curt nod. "A teacher," she repeats. "What is it that you teach?"

The glow of Ellie's phone doesn't go unnoticed, though. "Privyet," she says to the other girl. "Do not be afraid," she says misunderstanding her hesitation, "I will not hurt you."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I'm Clarice," the magenta-hued woman offers for Roxxi and Ellie's benefit. "Just, you know, stopping by for a visit. These fritters won't deliver themselves," she remarks, taking another bite, and letting Roxxi handle the explination of what a 'cold cut' is.
    "So. What is it you're guest teaching to the next generation of- whatever it is they're raising around here?" Clarice asks Michael curiously, leaning back onto her free hand. She seems perfectly comfortable sitting there, on the edge of the counter.

Roxxi Smith has posed:
     Roxxi, by now, has half-buried herself in the fridge. There are two, but this one seems to have the sought-after ingredients. "Cold-cuts! You know, like ham, and turkey, and stuff." The teen with the faded blue hair answers. She grabs the block of sliced Boars head cheddar cheese, a few packets of sliced deli meats, and begins to pass the bounty to Dash. "Are you a mayo, or mustard kinda girl Dash? I think mustard. " She grabs both jars and some pickles. "Now we just need to find some bread..." She mutters as she starts trying to peer into the nearest open cabinet.
     She pauses mid sandwich prep to stuff the fritter into her mouth. At about this point, her attention returns to Clarice. She smiles cheerfully around her mouthful and tries to finish it hastily. "Hi Clarice, your skin is so pretty!"
     Dash's comment to Elli drags at Roxxi's attention once more. "Hi! Want a sandwich? Or an apple fritter?!" But then her kitten-like attention span snaps towards Michael once more, as she quickly adds to his reply, "I'm in his martial arts class. It's //so much// fun!"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Dashenka he has seen around the campus, at least, and Negasonic is of course an O.G. around here by comparison -- Roxxi, having been invited to the school elsewherewhile he was present, he knows of well enough. The purple girl he hasn't seen since the day he himself was revealed to the staff and students of this place, working to slay his own people in the pitched battle on the grounds and in the facility.

    "I teach history," Michael tells her. "History of the Shi'ar Empire, Shi'ar Imperial Culture, Modern Galactic Politics, and the Thakath-Na'ta and Reth'kal martial arts styles." A beat. "Sufficiently neutered as to be arts of self-defense only," he clarifies. As if this is significant.

    Professor Spacemurder. That's him.

Negasonic has posed:
"Huh?" Ellie furrows her brow at Dashenka, "What are you on about.. I just want my cereal..." With all those cabinets open, she might be a little concerned someone has cornered her chocolatey delicious treat however. There will be genuine hell to pay if so. "Why are all the cabinets open? What kind of socially maladjusted degenerate-" Clarice?

"You just came by to drop off fritters?" Squinty eyes as she questions what the next generation is here, "They call them children. I call them competition for limited amounts of student/teacher attention. I'm going to organize a hunger games style dodgeball tournament with live hand grenades."

"For science."

Roxxi has a lot of energy and it is apparent by Ellie's expression that she immediately hates hers. "No, just my cereal."

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
A puzzled look leaks out of Dashenka's stoic appearance, quickly to be hidden away. "Mayo? Mustard? I do not know these things," She admits. "I will try both."

Michael gets a curious look. "This Shi'ar.... they are aliens, da?" Her tone turns thoughtful, "We were told of aliens in project, and their weaknesses if we were to fight them, but not of this Shi'ar."

Ellie gets her attention. "Ah! I know this game! It is very dangerous but it teaches you how to think quickly. Or else you die. We did not play this game often." Is she joking? Is she serious? It's so hard to tell.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Why... thank you," Clarice remarks, giving Roxxi a broad smile. "Honestly, you don't hear that enough, do you? They're all just jealous haters, you know. They wish they could have these ears." She casually tosses here hair back to better expose her elfin ears, before her expression sobers, and she studies Michael.
    "Oh, yeah?" she remarks. "That something these kids are going to have much use for? You think they'll have another go at us? I thought things were pretty... I dunno. Resolved, on that front." She'd hoped, anyways. Jean was back safe and sound, anyways.
    She studies Ellie for a moment before remarking, "I once teleported a live grenade right into Hambone's hands." She mimes and explosion and makes a 'booooom' noise. "Oops. He forgave me, though. I brought him a Mootant Milkshake." Strangely, Clarice also seems completely serious, and utterly relaxed about this.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael gives Clarice a look, his brows lifting slightly. "Nothing is ever truly resolved, miss," he tells her. "This is the greatest lesson of history. Though the new Majestrix is well-disposed to humanity, she is new to the Throne, and her control not yet totally cemented. You can be certain that the former Majestor has many that were in his patronage that suffered great losses when she was dethroned. They will want revenge." He gestures to himself. "Thus, I serve to inform the students on what exists in the greater universe, and how to defend themselves against the Empire should it ever come that way."

    A nod to Dashenka. "Yes," he says. "We are aliens. Not of this galaxy, though. Perhaps this is why your teachers, whatever knowledge they might have, had never heard of us. Until recently I was the only one of my people on this planet, and I have only been here forty-five years."

Roxxi Smith has posed:
% And that way too short attention span snaps back to Ellie. For a moment the brightness does dim a fraction, but whether it's the lengthening evening or the dour stranger is anyone's guess. "I don't think that sounds very scientific," She says skeptically to Ellie, in regards to the grenades. "I'm pretty sure Science requires ants." Green eyes do widen at the mention of cereal, but she's already committed to sandwiches and fritters.
    Speaking of sandwiches, she grins at Dash, and nods emphatically. "Right! Mayo //and// mustard." She dances around the larger teen to find the brand, some plates, and utensils. The bread she slathers with both condiments and then stacks the cheese before layering in a bit of black forest ham and roast beef, thinly sliced haven. In the midst of her mayo and mustardy mayhem, she looks up to spot Calrice's ears. "Ooooh, neat!"
     Roxxi puts the large sandwich on a plate, with a pickle spear, and hands it to Dash. It's not quite a Dagwood, but it's close. "There! I hope you like it!" She then begins to make her own.

Negasonic has posed:
"He almost certainly deserved it." Ellie says of Hambone in response to Clarice's declaration of having attempted to homicide him. She glances at her phone screen one last time and tenatively slips it into the pocket of her pajama pants. Black painted nails slide back through her freshly washed black hair hanging like a short curtain over the shaved sides of her head.

"They don't have mayo or mustard in Russia? What part of Russia are you from? You poor condiment starved darling, someone get this girl a cup of ranch dressing stat." Deadpan. Staring. Except the ghost of a grin when she mentions playing hand grenade hot potato.

Which disappears by the time she's looked to Roxxi. Nemesis status building with the sheer weight of her cat energy. "Hold on, let me consult my magic 8-ball app." Phone returns, thumb swipes, and it's held up to her lips. "Do I care about anything that she just said in refute of my understanding of science...." Shake shake shake.

"... yes?" Furrowed brow.

Shake shake shake. "It clearly didn't hear me."

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
"Mmm." Dashenka grunts, looking at Clarice. "I have had to stand next to grenade as it went off. To see if I would survive." Her ice blue eyes turns to the sandwich. "I survived."

She picks up the Dagwood, a sandwich built for Dashenka's giant hands and considers the construction thoughtfully. "So this is sandwich." She pulls a corner of the bread back and fingers through the layers of meat and cheese and nods to herself. "Da. I am thinking I could make this." She stops fingering her food and takes a huge bite out of it, chewing thoughtfully. "This is good," she concludes.

Ellie's question gets her attention. "I was Red Room project," she explains. "Only knew project, the bunker, and combat. There was no other food. Only stew."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "They gave us this weird sort of gruel mostly," Clarice remarks. "Stew, gruel - what's the difference really?" Other than the amount of filler they put in. She finishes off her fritter, studying Michael as she chews - before offering a silent nod in response to his words. He was right, of course. "Well. Teach them, then," she agrees. "Though I'm sure we'll find enough trouble on our own planet to keep us busy."
    Looking back to Dashenka she asks, "The people that ran this program you were in - they still alive? Or did someone rub them out?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael knows nothing about what the Red Room is - and, having explained his existence, is happy to let the students and visitor speak amongst themselves. But he takes notes. After all, if there's anything he had been trained to do in his youth other than take territory, it was certainly to take notes.

    

Roxxi Smith has posed:
     Roxxi has a moment of contemplation, likely an expression not oft seen on the energetic teen. She studies Ellie with drawn brows. "Are you trying to make fun of me?" She asks plainly, butter knife continuing to slather her bread with mayo and mustard.
     Despite her concern, she constructs her own sandwich. As Dashenka seems to enjoy hers, the brilliance of Roxxie's smile quickly returns. "Oh good! Yeah, it's real easy to make. I'm glad you like it!" She listens sympathetically as the larger student talks about her Red Room experience.
     Finally finishing her sandwich, Roxxi glances at Clarice as the magenta-skinned woman also mentions stew. "Oh! Did you go to the red room also?" She asks politely before taking a bite of her Dagwood. Noting that Michael has fallen quiet, she hastily chews her bite before asking, "Want a sandwich, Mr. Erickson?"

Negasonic has posed:
"Red Room project." Ellie quirks her lips to the side, finally having made it through the throng of people to the covet cereal... holding it to her chest in both arms as she takes a slow step back.. "Well, that sounds pretty horrible, but everyone has a horrible story. Hopefully someone introduces you to poptarts. They'll change your whole ass life."

Pointing a finger off the side of her box, "I'm going to go now. It's not any of you, it's me." Fingers drum, eyes shift... to Roxxi.

"No. Actually I'm not. I was trying to be clever using an untrusted app when telling you I didn't care, which backfired." Lips twist into a frown, "That's on me. Next time I'll bring a real magic 8-ball. It knows the score."

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
Dashenka nods to Clarice. "You understand." She takes another bite out of her sandwich. She seems to be taking it slow to savor its flavors, though you wouldn't be able to tell with the way that she keeps everything impassive. "Primary target was to free the subjects," she tells Clarice. "Capture or elimination of people in charge was secondary. Most were alive when I left, but they may have been silenced."

"I will try these 'poptarts'," she tells Ellie, taking a few steps back so that she isn't in her way. "But I do not think they will change my life much. My life is change. What is another?"

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "No," Clarice answers Roxxi. "I'm not Russian. I'm Genoshan." Some might be able to read between the lines there, if they know the history of Genosha at all. It doubtlessly means very little to Roxxi, though.
    "Poptarts are pretty sweet," Clarice cautions Dashenka. "If you don't like sweets - you'll hate Poptarts." She shrugs after offering this verdict, then changes back to the previous topic as she asks simply, "Anyone in particular you got a grudge against? That I should keep my eyes open for?"

Roxxi Smith has posed:
% Lips purse as the blue-haired teen returns to studying Ellie. Roxxi shrugs, letting the matter drop, and offers a cheerful grin. "I don't think Dash would like pop tarts, they might be too sweet. Though, the group home only ever got the generic-generic ones, and usually unfrosted." Since the other teen seemed to be on her way out, Roxxi transferred her sandwich to one hand and waved her goodbyes. "Bye. Oh, I like your slippers!" She remarked of the black cats.
     After Dash agreed to try the toaster 'pastry', Roxxi nodded, "Okay, but let's get you to try the unfrosted ones. At least those, might not be too sweet." Though overall, she did seem to agree with Clarice's 'too sweet' assessment concerning the pop tarts. In all likelihood, even the unfrosted would still be, too sweet. When corrected about her origin, as Genoshan vs Russian, Roxxi could only shake her head, "I don't know what that means."

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
Dashenka continues to slowly eat the sandwich. "Hm." She says thoughtfully. "Perhaps not. But I will try them." Everything is still so new to her that she's willing to try pretty much everything that is offered. She openly scowls at Clarice's last question, though.

"There is .... what is word." Her scowl deepens in frustration at not knowing the English language as good as she needs to. "Man who works in lab. Runs tests. Knows how to wash your brain. He is a cruel man." To be fair, they were all cruel men, but this one seems to take the cake. "Doctor Tsvetayev. He is too valuable for Russia to silence."

She nods to Roxxi about her assessment of what she'd think of the poptarts. "I still wish to try. There are so many things I have not tried. It is hard to say no."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "It's alright. If you're going to school here - they'll probably cover it in 'Mutant Rights Violations 101,' or something like that," Clarice remarks, without clarifying the issue. She gives a shrug of her shoulders. "Same thing Dashenka here went through. Only different."
    She really shouldn't have another fritter. It would be - what, her third of the day? ...yeah. Probably a bad idea. "I'll keep my eyes and eyes open for a Doctor Tsvetayev. Sounds like he was some sort of scientist? What a jerk. If I ever run into him - then he won't hurt anyone else," she promises simply.

Roxxi Smith has posed:
     In contrast to Dash, Roxxi makes pretty quick work of her sandwich. She eats with the practiced speed of a street kid; not so fast it will come back up but fast enough no one can take it from you. She then, so long as Clarice does seem to mind, polishes of an apple fritter as well. She listens to the talk of Red Rooms and mutant rights infringements, quietly devouring her food.
     She does pause briefly to pat, so long as the larger teen doesn't seem to mind, Dash's back. "Don't worry, we'll make sure you try all the food." She says reassuringly.

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
"Scientist!" Dashenka exclaims. "That is word, yes. Doctor Tsvetayev is a scientist." She glowers at the very thought of that man. "The closing of the Red Room will not stop him."

Dashenka's back is solid muscle, barely an ounce of fat. She doesn't react to the pat other than to give Roxxi the hint of a smile, "I am looking forward to it."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I think you should try mtuzi wa samaki," Clarice offers. "It's a fish curry - from Africa. Not sure where you'd find it around here, though. It's delicious. And definitely not stew."
    She smiles tensely as she adds, "I met a few scientists I didn't like, either. I don't know what happened to them. But... I hope they're not hurting anyone else. If I ever met any of them again..." Well. It wouldn't be pretty.

Roxxi Smith has posed:
     In response to Dash's hint of a smile, Roxxi beams. She also begins to clean up the sandwich-making mess. She really has nothing to add to the conversation, having no experience with scientists, cruel or otherwise. "Oh!" She remembers suddenly. "Dr. Pym is a scientist. I don't know him, but he sounds neat. He has a large pet ant." The teen reports with some authority as she puts away the jar of pickles.

Dashenka Ivanov has posed:
"Matuzi wa samaki," Dashenka says. "I will try this if I find it." She picks up the pickle and gives it a tentative sniff. She then bites down into it and her whole body seems to freeze. "This I like." She finishes off the sandwich in her hand and goes back into the fridge to retrieve the pickle jar and extracts one. "I like this very much." She places it back and starts the process of closing all the open cabinets.

She nods to Roxxi. "A large ant. This I would like to see. Come. You can tell me about it going back to dorms." She turns to Clarice and gives her a dip of the head. "It was good seeing you again." There's a bit of warmth in her voice as she says this.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I'm glad you're doing alright here," Clarice answers - flashing the girl a bright smile. "Some of the teachers here know how to get a hold of me - Hank in particular. Lorna too, though she's not a teacher. If you ever want to get ahold of me, you can tell them," she offers.
    She closes the box of fritters, and starts to head out herself - out of the school building so she can teleport without being rude. "I should head back up to the Asteroid. It's so late there, it's early by now," she remarks in a wry tone. A brief nod has hear headed out on her own.
    A scientist with big ants? ... sure. Whatever.