Second Floor Common Room, Thursday afternoon

[craic_killer]

After heading to Mass for St. Patrick's Day and walking past people dressed in green and heading into pubs at 11am on workday in Lent, Clare was properly scandalized about American decadence.

She went into the common room with a bag full of groceries and began making traditional Irish food for the holiday: not a green beer to be found, but plenty of lamb stew, potato pancakes, soda bread, and an apple cake.

The air smelled amazing, if she did so so herself. It was making her horribly homesick.

Comments

[white_oleander]

Yeah, it was definitely hard to focus on art school brochures with that going on down the hallway, and Astrid made her way down to see who was busy in the kitchen this time, and had to grin a little to see who it was and realize she shouldn't have been surprised.

"Well," she stated, "this all smells amazing."

[craic_killer]

"Thank you!" Clare said. "Me ma sent the recipes and told me not to burn the place to the ground."

Mrs. Devlin did not have a great deal of faith in Clare's cooking.

[white_oleander]

"So far, so good," Astrid noted, looking around as if to confirm that, yes, in fact, the building had not burned down. "I don't even see any smoke yet."

And, because it was almost impossible for certain people to be in near a kitchen when food was being made without feeling a particular compulsion, she asked, "Do you need any help?"

[craic_killer]

"I would love some help," Clare said. "Can you give the stew a wee stir? And then I'll need help peeling potatoes."

There were always potatoes to peel.

[white_oleander]

"I think I can handle that," said Astrid, and, sure enough, that stew got a good stir before she turned her attention to the potatoes, and to Clare.

"So you pretty big on St. Patrick's Day?" she asked.

She'd traveled enough and abstained from most holidays enough to know that sometimes Americans tended to get a little....'extra' with their appropriated cultural festivities.

(Looking at you, Cinco de Mayo).

[craic_killer]

"Not as big as the Americans are," Clare said dryly. "The pubs in Ireland were closed on St. Patrick's Day until around when I was born on account of it being Lent and good Catholics not being allowed t'go out and get pissed." She smiled. "So everyone drank at home instead."

[apocalypsehow]

Well, luckily for Clare, Five wasn't going to deal with this holiday sober.

Or maybe not so luckily.

"Is this meant to be a party?" he asked.

[craic_killer]

"Maybe a wee one?" Clare said. "It's St. Patrick's Day, so I have to do something."

[apocalypsehow]

Free food was free food.

Five did a little sniff as he looked it all over, probably very much channeling his father with it. "Where are the drinks?"

[craic_killer]

"We have plenty of tea," Clare said primly. "Or are ye thinking of something a wee bit stronger?"

[apocalypsehow]

"If I'm suffering through social interaction here, I'll need something a little stronger than tea," Five replied like his general level of feral cat attitude didn't keep him free from such things.

[craic_killer]

"Go on and look behind that pillow there, then," she said, pointing to a pillow hiding a bottle of Jameson's in a totally inconspicuous if you were Clare way on the counter.

[apocalypsehow]

Well now Five was giving her a vaguely impressed look as he went over to grab the whiskey to spike his tea with. Like an old man.

"You're not as bad as I thought."

WOW, FIVE.

[craic_killer]

"I will take that sideways compliment and be pleased about it," Clare told him.

[apocalypsehow]

"Wise move," Five said, opening the bottle immediately.

[craic_killer]

"You're welcome," Clare said a little pointedly.

[apocalypsehow]

"Ah," Five replied, politely pouring her a teacup of whiskey first. Like a gentleman.

[craic_killer]

"Thank you," Clare said. Politely. Like maybe he'd pick it up from her good example.

[apocalypsehow]

Oh, Clare. Clare. Not with this Hargreeves.

Five nodded at that before pouring himself a healthy cup as well. "You cook like this a lot?"

[craic_killer]

"Not every Thursday," Clare said, "but I can make it so I don't starve. Do you cook, too?"

[apocalypsehow]

"God no," Five replied. "Not unless it's sandwiches or microwaved."

He had a robot mom and then lived in the apocalypse, so...

[craic_killer]

"Can sandwiches also be microwaved?" Clare wondered.

[apocalypsehow]

"Marshmallow fluff in a sandwich is good heated up." Disgusting, Five. Absolutely disgusting.

[craic_killer]

"That sounds wonderful!"

Clare.

[apocalypsehow]

"You know what? Thank you!" The only person to understand his trash tastes.

[craic_killer]

"You're quite welcome," Clare said. "I'll have to try it some time."

This was from a girl who ate deep fried hot dogs, so. Suspect.

[apocalypsehow]

He lived off scavenged food for a couple decades there, so that was probably fine.

"Add some peanut butter too."

[craic_killer]

"That's very American," Clare said, sounding absolutely delighted about that fact.

[imawizard]

"You're making food?" asked Harry, hopefully.

[craic_killer]

"I'm making lashings of food," Clare said. "Do you like lamb stew?"

[imawizard]

"I will definitely have lamb stew," Harry said. "Can't let it go to waste, right?"

[craic_killer]

"Ma would call all the way from Derry to bawl me out for wasting food on account of how I can't eat any of the stew again until Saturday with tomorrow being Friday and all."

Hope you caught half of that, Harry.

[imawizard]

Harry had enough familiarity with the accent to get it!

"Oh right. I always forget about that part," he said. "So if there are leftovers, I'm good for tomorrow."

[craic_killer]

"You are very welcome to them," Clare said, nodding. "I can set aside some just to be sure you have extras."

[imawizard]

"Thanks. Do you do this every year?" Harry asked.

[craic_killer]

"Normally I just peel potatoes for me ma," Clare said. "Sometimes I make the boxty entirely. This is my first time doing the full meal."

[imawizard]

"Well, do you need help?" Harry offered.

[craic_killer]

"I would love help," Clare said. "How are you at chopping cabbage?"

[imawizard]

"Pretty great at it," he said, walking over. "I used to have to do the cooking at home."

[craic_killer]

"I was mostly on potato peeling duty," Clare admitted. "Though my da cooked, too. He and my mother do shift work, so whoever's home, cooks."

[imawizard]

"That makes sense. Why wait for one person when everyone needs to eat?" Harry reasoned.

[craic_killer]

"Exactly!" Clare said. "Plus we go to the chippy on Fridays."