fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

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Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

Roy's stuff was all packed up, ready for him to head out tomorrow. He'd found a cheap apartment in a crappy part of New York, and he had a job lined up working at an outpatient rehab clinic. Heading group therapy. He still wasn't sure why they thought he was the man for the job, considering some days he still didn't feel all that recovered himself, and he probably would stay in it exactly until he found something else, but...maybe he could help some people, you know? And he needed the money for rent.

In the meantime, he had one last thing he had to do before he left town: make chili. He'd been wanting it, and...well, it was always funny when someone tasted it for the first time, so he hoped some unsuspecting kid would drop by. Even superheroes have their evil streaks.

((Last post for Roy in Fandom, woe!))

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You know what was excellent for helping cope with girlfriends, roommates, and friends all taking off? Food. Which was why Bobby headed for the first common room that smelled like someone was cooking.

...Less helpful for that whole 'coping-with-people-leaving' was the fact that it was yet another person he knew would be leaving was the one doing the cooking, but.

"It's too bad the newest batch of new kids is gonna miss out on this," he remarked as he wandered in.

Butters was way to excited to just stay in his room now that he knew he was at Fandom High School to stay! He could smell things cooking upstairs, and so he went up to investigate, though he became cautious the closer he got. Who knew who was cooking up there? And he realized it smelled a little like...chili.

So it was a timid Butters who peeked his head in and, seeing that it wasn't Warren's girlfriend, stepped inside with trepidation. His fingers tapped together as he asked. "Is that chili?"

"I hope to become part of school lore," Roy confided. "'At least you weren't here when that Harper guy with the chili was...'"

Aw, it was all little and cute. He almost hated to do this to the kid. "It sure is," Roy said. "You want some? There's plenty." He added a few more dashes of Tabasco to the pot. You know. Just in case.

Bobby snickered. "I'll do what I can to perpetuate that," he offered.

As soon as the question of whether or not Butters want any was proposed, his eyes went wide and his head started to shake. The tapping became more furious and the stutter more pronounced. "Uhh, um, no, thank you," he said. "I...don't really like chili too much. Had a bad experience with chili once. Well, not me, but, hoo boy, believe me, it was bad. Bad enough to turn anyone off chili, I bet."

"Would you? That would be great," Roy said appreciatively. "I would give you the chili recipe but, you know," he shrugged, "family secret." Even if he had been disowned. "Plus it's dangerous in the wrong hands. Or the right ones."

"Oh," Roy said, looking kind of disappointed. "You already met Ollie, huh?"

"Ollie?" Butters asked. "Who's Ollie?"

Pause.

"That's not a nickname for Warren's girlfriend, is it?"

"Karla? No, Karla just can't cook, and everybody knows it except Karla." And the unsuspecting. She and Roy had that in common, except for how Roy knew exactly what kind of culinary napalm he was peddling. "Ollie is...long story. Did Karla make chili? So glad I missed that."

"Oh trust me, you don't want me cooking anything anyway," Bobby shared. "I'd probably cause a minor disaster." Because unlike some people, he was perfectly aware that his skillset did not extend to most things kitchen related.

Roy looked around for anyone who might be persuaded to try it, then, deeming the coast clear, scoffed and said, "Like this stuff isn't a disaster by most people's standards already."

Look, he liked it. He didn't say it was good. Growing up in the Queen household it was kind of like Stockholm syndrome with the chili.

"No," Butters said. "Not Karla. Not that I know of."

Still, the thought made him shudder and made him realize that maybe his experience wasn't so bad.

"I'm talkin' about this one time, when my friend Eric made chili. Haven't been able to eat it ever since. All it does is make me think of how he chopped up Scott Tenorman's poor parents an' put 'em right there in it and then made Scott eat it right up like it was nothin' at all."

Roy stared. And then he stared some more. And then he finally managed to find some words. "Your friend?!"

Butters hesitated.

"Well," he allowed. "Eric's not too good of a friend. He's kind of a jerk."

Understatement, one of Butters' well-known talents.

"I take pride in my metaphorical cast-iron stomach," Bobby said smugly. And no, it wasn't in the least bit contradictory that a guy who went around calling himself Iceman could enjoy a good hot chili.

"That sounds like something the Joker would do. If he were even more crazy." Maybe if Roy was from the nineties and not the seventies.

After an evening of messing with the heads of Tino, the zombies, and various customers at Caritas, Kenzi followed her nose upstairs.

"Hero Dude!" Yes she knew his name. "Cowboy! You are making me chili! That is so cool!"

It probably helped with this stuff, actually. "You want some?" Roy offered. "I've got plenty. I was thinking I could leave the leftovers in the fridge with 'free' on them so the newbies can...partake." Suffer. He meant suffer.

"Fry Guy. Hi hi." Kenzi wandered over to beam at Butters. "When are you bringing your toy out again?" The one she broke, yes.

"Roy," Roy corrected just in case she didn't know. "Kenzi, right? You look different with clothes on," he said easily. "You want some? Grab a bowl, it's ready."

"The Joker?" asked Butters, thinking this didn't sound very good. That almost sounded like some sort of superhero identity name, and he knew the Coon wouldn't want more competition again...

"Hopefully not worse, don't answer that, thanks," Kenzi said without stopping, ladling up a generous bowl-ful. "So when do you hit the happy trails? In a non-dirty way. Just to be clear."

"Crazy clown guy," Roy said, his brain operating on autopilot. "Lives in Gotham. Fights Batman a lot. Your universe probably doesn't have to worry about him."

"You're an evil, evil man," Bobby said approvingly. "And as if I'd turn down food."

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Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

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