fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [11/11].

Wayne should have figured he'd had too many completely normal breakfasts in a row. And that morning was one of the particularleh annoying ones where it started out completely normal, and then went a little weird right toward the end. Because there he was, just going about his usual business of making breakfast in the morning, everything going along accordin' to plan, until he went to actually take the pancakes or the eggs or the bacon or whatever else it was out of the pan and onto a plate.

Because that was when the food suddenly went miniature.

Little mini pancakes. Little tiny eggs. Itty bitty bacon. Normal sized in the pan. Baby sized out.

"So's it's not only gotta be annoying," he grumbled at the food, "it's gotta be inefficient, too, huh?"

Because now he had to make at least twice as much food to equal the usual amount of food he'd put on a plate, and he'd found out it wasn't just the one pan, it was all the pans, and he also had to brace himself for at least a few of the usual breakfast crew probably going around talkin' about how cute all the mini food was.

But there was nothin' cute about inefficiency!

[[ and breakfast is served! Open! ]]

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"Yeah, well," Wayne drawled, "back home, you also make ice cream with...just an egg, so........."

That Nina-level usage of ellipses and that trailing squint of Wayne's suggested that that might be all he had to say about that.

"I can do that here too," she said sweetly. "Or, like, I could make French toast for you, if you're feeling adventurous today!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"French toast," Wayne declared, "is a waste of time. Even more so if it's jus' gonna turn out tiny."

Also, he realleh, realleh did not want to know how Nina made French toast, to the point of where if he'd already told her, he'd already refused to remember.

"I mean, like, I wouldn't be using your pans," Nina noted, "so it might not turn out tiny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And it'd be nice for Tisarwat to have food she could eat if she shows up, wouldn't it??????????????"

"Number A," Wayne barked, after taking in a breath, "I tried several pans, Nina, they all turned out the same, and Number B, Tisarwat'll likely show up, she always does, and that's why I've already got a plate set out for her, made with gloves, jus' as she likes, so we already got that covered."

"I think you're just being a coward," she said, because now she was just being a brat. "You don't want to brave my cooking and, like, that's rude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Now that's got nothin' to do with it, Nina," Wayne countered, "and you knows it, you just like twisting a situation all up around itself until it suits yer needs. All's I'm sayin' in that French toast is a waste of fucking time, but if you're so hellbent on making French toast in whatever weird way yous make it back where you're from, well, then..."

He turned off the burner and moved the pan he was working on off of it, then stepped back from the stove and folded his arms in front of him

"Be my guest."

She beamed at him.

"I will, thank you," she said, popping a berry into her mouth and then setting her plate to the side to go and wash her hands properly before drying them and putting her black gloves on.

Then she went and got out the wok. And the pot. And fetched a head of cabbage and a pork chop from the fridge.

(Whomever had left them there was going to miss them later, since they weren't Nina's.)

And, since this actually did need sugar, she also got a cup of sugar out.

Wayne was already starting to regret this when Nina got not only a wok, but a pot as well.

"Fuck--Nina!" he started, when she brought out the cabbage, but, by the time the pork chop had joined the mix, he'd mostly given up, just sort of squinting and blinking up at the ceiling, imploring a god whose existence he'd be questioning pretty fucking hard right now if he didn't already not believe in him.

There was usually some logic behind the things she cooked and how they made sense into what she wound up with at the end.

... other than the sugar, there was... not much logic in evidence as Nina got to work cooking.

...

... Which mostly consisted of her crossing her arms and tapping her foot as stew boiled up and then her tossing rice in that wok and frantically spicing things when she had no spices in attendance and, really, there were just so many questions...

Like where had the cabbage and the pork chop even gone as she plated up a picture perfect plate of normal-sized French toast.

Nina was, like, pretty sure that her food had stayed the normal size just to add insult to injury to Wayne's pain.

"Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd done!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" she chirped.

"Well," said Wayne, after a moment of looking at that French toast and looking deeply troubled and uncomfortable about the whole thing, blinking a few times as if trying to just set the order of things right in his brain again, "fuck a duck, Nina."

Really, what else could he say? Although, a moment later, frowning and squinting at another uncomfortable thought, he did wonder, "Now...is this what I'm feeling right now just about how you feel when anyone goes around and does Earth cooking? Like, when I start throwing together my pancake batter, are you jus' sitting there, thinking, 'fuck, what sorta spare parts bullshit are we gettin' today?' Or what?"

"I mean, like, at this point I know when you're mixing all your things together that you'll come out with something tasty???????????" Nina said slowly. "But, like, mostly I try not to think about it??????????????? I spent a few weeks reading the backs of boxes of things and decided I really don't understand how anyone makes food here……………"

Weird as Nina's cooking was, hey, at least it was made of natural, healthy foods.

(Unless it had a cup of sugar added to it and, like, even then it was still a natural sugar instead of all the weird made-up ones they used here.)

Well, Wayne could definitely be on board with the whole natural and healthy part, considering how therein lied his livelihood, but, perhaps because therein lied his livelihood, he still couldn't help being a little shaken up about the whole concept of how food was to be put together being all jacked up and out of whack in other places in the multiverse.

Granted, until he showed up here, he didn't spend a whole lot of time thinking abut the multiverse in general, either.

"it's spare parts," he said, feeling that phrase more literally now than anything, "that's what it is."

And he almost hated the fact that this idea was coming to his head, underneath that furrowed, contemplating brow.

"You ever just feel compelled to sort of take random food things from around here and throw 'em together just to see what you an' yer weird cooking might come up with?"

To be entirely honest, most of Nina's food ventures had been in trying out various pre-packaged things going 'ew, no' and then avoiding them like the plague thereafter.

She looked at him askance. "Like, what sort of things??????????"

"Like...what if...." Wayne started, and then, almost as if debating with himself on whether or not he should even entertain these thoughts, or merely just trying to put his thoughts together enough to verbalize them, "...I mean, like, what if....what if you were to go and let's say take an apple, 'kay? And then you decided, well, let's put that in a wok," he'd noticed a lot of woks involved in Nina's cooking, "alongside....I don't know, let's say....a trout and a parsnip, well, then, do you suppose you might actually get anything?"

And so help him if that was actually already a recipe for something in Nina's world.

The wok and the pot were... basically... the only things really used ever in Nina's cooking.

Ah, mini-games.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "Like, if you cook salmon and a tomato together, you get pasta.............."

Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [11/11].

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