towerofanimus | Coming out of hiding

Entry tags:

Coming out of hiding

Characters: Samwise Gamgee and all the food (also you)
Setting: Cafeteria, dinner time and then the kitchens
Format: Either
Summary: Sam is happy it is no longer a Jason month. Also there is fall out from the last event.
Warnings:

[Cafeteria] Since Sam had come back from dying, and that would never not sound strange and frightening to him, he had spent all his time in his room. There was so much he could have done, a whole library of books to read, meadows and gardens to explore, and tend to after the strong winds. But he had just stayed in his room, seeing no point in anything.

The death was strange, just as it had been the first time. Coming back was frightening but it was before the death that had been the worst. All those he knew from home, their cruel words.

Sam had never heard mister Frodo so angry at anything. And it hurt so deep that that anger had been because of him.

He had been going to the cafeteria every couple of days to get some nutrient bars, and today he arrived to realise the month had changed. There was actual food now.

It was enough to lift his mood a tiny bit. He took a plate and went to sit down, finding a table to sit at.

Kitchen Sam entered the kitchen, he worked there and it had been something else he had been avoiding. But he figured now there were actually dishes to wash he should do some work. And hobbits weren't really made to be solitary, he had missed conversation, even just hearing it.

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[Rick didn't work in the kitchen, but that didn't stop him from paying it a visit every so often. While last month's unpleasant events (and menu) had kept him away from the cooking scene, he returned to the task this month with inspiration and enthusiasm. He'd promised someone that he'd teach her how to bake, after all; best get back into practice while he still had time.]

[The blonde man trots into the kitchen with a cheery air about him, at which point he notices the short man washing dishes and stops dead in front of the door. The man himself is perfectly normal, all things considered, but Rick can't help worrying that his presence is intrusive, or that his plans will hinder the dish-washing process. Should he just excuse himself preemptively? Would that be rude? Would it be more rude to say hello, and then leave?...]

[And so on. He remains frozen with indecision by the doorway.]

[It took a moment before Sam realised someone was at the door. He smiled friendly. Glad for the company.] Hello there, come for a bite to eat?

[...Oh, he's...happy to see him. Rick visibly relaxes, although now he's embarrassed for being so nervous for no reason and his face flushes deep red.]

Ah...w-well... [He watches himself shuffle his feet.] ...I w-was g-g-going to, um...m-make some. I-If that's n-not too much t-trouble, I mean.

Of course it's not. [Sam grinned] I just work 'ere, it's not my kitchen or anything. [He waved him in]

[Rick has to collect himself for a few more moments before he can answer Sam's summons and enter properly, though when he does he's smiling again and seems a lot more relaxed. The small fellow's tone was pleasantly familiar--not in the sense that Rick had heard his voice before, but that it reminded him of nicer, more comfortable times, as if being greeted into an old friend's house.]

[Or maybe he's just not used to people being so outwardly friendly around here. Either way, Rick is grateful for Sam's hospitality.]

[He walks slowly behind and glances over his working corner, pondering what he could possibly make. But first: ]

...Oh! S-Sorry, um...I'm R-Rick. I-It's nice to m-meet you.

Likewise Rick, name's Samwise but most folk just call me Sam. [He smiled] What do you fancy making? [He senses the man is nervous, and so is happy to keep up a pleasant conversation]

...Sam.

[And he internalizes the name, with a brief smile in his direction before going back to puzzling over the cabinets. Rick thinks he has an idea--there's hopefully some chicken from lunch, and Riki's good taste seems to have resulted in quite a few new spices to play with...]

...Ch--Chicken. [He roots around in the spice cabinet and holds up two containers, grinning widely: one of curry and one of chili powder.] S-Spicy...and g-grilled. [A pause.] --I-If that's o-okay with you.

O'course it is. Need any help? I'm no chef but I enjoy cooking. [He smiled, trying to make the other man realise he was nothing to be scared of.]

[Rick seems comfortable enough, but the stammering and blushing never cease--and neither do the persistent attempts to accommodate his company.]

O-Only if y-you want...Y-You're w-working, I...I d-don't want to b-b-bother you or a-anything.

[He's already starting to prepare, grabbing several multi-gallon bags before heading into the freezer.]

You're no bother. [He watches him enter the freezer] I'm almost done here anyways.

[His trip isn't a long one; Rick reappears with two bags half-full of assorted chicken cuts, which he was happy to discover were sliced ahead of time, either by design or by one of the other Tower kitchen-hands.]

...If you s-say so. It's a...p-pretty simple r-recipe, and I-I'll n-need to w-wait a w-while for the ch--chicken to baste. Y-You sure there i-isn't s-something I c-can do to help?

No as I say, I'm almost done, I can make us some tea or something while you wait if you wish.

[Rick shrugs and starts filling the bags up with water, dropping honey and salt into them as he goes.]

I, ah...w-won't r-refuse it, if y-you m-make some.

I shall then. [He went about doing that, watching what the other man was doing.] So how long have you been here Rick?

[Rick pauses every few seconds to give the bags of chicken and water-mixture a thorough shake.]

Eh...a-a few m-months, I th--think. [Beat.] ...D-Do we a-always get new p-people at the s-start of the m-month?

I think so, we seem to, always at the start except one month in the summer. But I might have just not seen them, there was a lot going on.

[Nod.] A-Always s-seems to be...if th--that's the c-case, though, I think this is...my third m-month?

[It's interesting that he's been having trouble keeping up--normally Rick is meticulous about dates and proper scheduling. The last month was an especially rough one, though. It's understandable that he lost track of time during that mess.]

...You?

Five I think... [It was hard to keep track, it felt like forever]

[Rick hopes he means months. There are people who've been trapped here for years, and he can't imagine...]

[They should talk about something else.]

...B-Been w-working here the w-whole time?

Pretty much, I got a note when I arrived telling me this was my job.

[nod nod]

S-Sounds f-familiar...it's n-not bad w-work.

[He gets more bags and spices--curry and chili powders and cumin go into them and send up a spicy cloud that burns the corners of Rick's eyes. Perfect.]

It's not... Not as bad as some jobs. Do you have a job Rick?

[Scurrying around making tea]

[At this point the chicken's gone back in the freezer; it should sit for roughly an hour. It's too bad he didn't think to bring a wristwatch with him to the Tower.]

Ah...yes. [Rick seems hesitant as he leans back on the counter.] I, um...w-work in the m-morgue.

Oh... [He looks sadly at him] That aint a nice job.

...Y-Yeah, that's...a-about right. [He pauses to give the back of his head a nervous scratch.] I g-guess I've g-gotten used to it, I mean...I just c-clean the place.

[It's not like there are dead bodies lying about that he has to navigate around OH WAIT]

Kitchen

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