ArchivedLogs:Seeking Life

Seeking Life
Dramatis Personae B, Melinda
In Absentia	2015-06-22 "I'm just glad Staten Island is not the only option." (Part of Buzzkill TP.)
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Kitchens - Lower East Side
Gleaming and polished and new, the common house here boasts an enormous industrial-sized kitchen for preparing communal meals. Set up as two mirror-image fully equipped kitchens, both left and right halves of the room contain a trio of enormous ovens, each topped with twelve gas-powered stove burners. There is a wealth of cabinet and drawer space ringing the walls, and separate side-by-side fridge and freezer to each side of the space as well. Both halves of the room contain their own large central islands, black granite countertops providing a large expanse of space for food prep; beneath the center islands are stored a well-stocked supply of pans and pots and cutting boards and kitchen gear. The pantry is shared, a large walk-in room along the back wall, its shelves all carefully labelled and organized. The opposite wall has sinks, deep three-compartment ones for each side of the room. There are very clearly labeled signs in the kitchen, denoting the left half of the room strictly for preparation only of foods both vegan and Kosher; there are no restrictions on the foods prepared in the right half. Equipment from each side is color-coded and should be kept separate. Instructions request that any prepared foods served or stored in communal space keep /strict/ lists of the ingredients used for those with dietary concerns and that leftovers are marked clearly with dates before being stored. Monday evening finds Mel rummaging around in the kitchen groggily, grumbling quietly to herself as she pulls open cupboards and stares listlessly at the contents before closing them and moving one set down and repeating the process. She is not beyond rummaging through the drawers, too. Dressed in an oversized, navy shirt with only the bottom hems of her orange shorts peeking out. Her hair is tied up high on her head, but that doesn't stop it from cascading around her shoulders. And sticking to her face. Yay. Humidity. Monday evening finds a small and also groggy sharkpup trudging into the kitchen, a bright metallic-blue dragonfly perched on hir shoulder and a tablet in hir hands. "-- no, definitely 937 meters since last check," ze is muttering -- not to hirself, though; there's a tiny bluetooth headset tucked into hir ear. The light in it turns off a moment later. "I hate this," ze announces to Mel. "I quit." "Quit? Wha? Quit who, huh?" Mel turns her head and blinks at B and frowns a little. "Oh. B. Hey, you. How's it going?" There's an almost drunk quality to her speech, the sleepiness pretty much negating her ability to sound alert. "Whatcha measuring? Seems kind of far away." "The borders of hell." B slumps against the counter, gills fluttering slowly open. "Quit New York. Not worth saving. Gonna go to college early. Cambridge still has -- tea." "Oh. Well. I still have tea. It's just as... tasty as usual." Melinda seems disappointed in this, drawing and deep breath and shaking her head afterward. "But, yeah, I can understand... wanting to -" she purses her lips, then presses them hard together as she tries not to yawn. "This is all ridiculous. I can't barely stay away a standard day with out the energy my dear sweet coffee provides." "Hibernate," B suggests, earnestly. "Or take a vacation. Hive says he's going to Thailand forever. And also bombing New York. So you might want to get out anyway." She flicks fingers lightly against her tablet, and the dragonfly on her shoulder projects a map out in front of her. Moving closer to Mel, she blows it up larger. "But if you want to know how far away you need to get for a working buzz, we're tracking it." "Thailand was nice. Coffee shop's going to go under if the caffeine doesn't come back. I'll probably be looking for a new line of work before too long. Maybe I'll go into mangoes." Mel rubs at the back of her neck, fingers slipping into the back of her hair as she listens and looks at the map B is showing off. Her eyes squint, not out of a need for better definition, but because her eyes are having a hard time focusing. "Damn, B. The city is going to implode on its own, never mind bombing the place." "I'd go for a mango now. Do you have mangoes?" B's eyes widen hopefully. "Are they caffeinated mangoes?" Hir fingers scroll against the map, panning down south. "You could move the store. Start selling coffee in --" Hir nose wrinkles up. "New Jersey." Though this comes with a quicker flutter of gills. "... Thailand and bombing is a better idea. Anyway, you want to take a road trip up to the Bronx with me?" Because the Bronx is such a far-off distant land. "Most of /there/ still has life. Tonight anyway." "I... actually don't know." Mel turns away and heads over to one of the refrigerators, going on the hunt again. "They say that you can eat apples instead of coffee and a combination of the vitamins in the skin and the sugars inside will do the same for you as a cup of coffee. I haven't really found it to be helpful just of late." She pulls out a mango found in the back of the fridge and places it on a counter. "You going to be good to drive? Are we going to fall asleep trying to get back?" She considers. "I'm just glad Staten Island is not the only option." B picks up the mango, claw lengthening to slice off its cheeks, score a neat cross-hatched pattern into it. She turns one inside-out to give Mel before taking the other for hirself, neatly biting off the small squares of flesh that she has cut. "We might fall asleep trying to get back," she tells Mel, solemnly, "but just think. If we crash, we'll go straight to a heaven chock-full of caffeine." Melinda accepts the mango cheek and bends it so that she can nibble off the odd shaped bits first. "You know... aaaah. That sounds so nice, but I'm more concerned with only getting maimed and not flat out killed. And you - well, it seems like an accident would be pretty painful caffeine vacation. Maybe we should just get a hotel room and crawl back home without pain with a betterish bit of alertness." "Maimed -- less fun," B concedes, reluctantly. "Alright. If I'm too tired to drive home we'll sleep out in the /boonies/." Or the Bronx." There's a very (very) small perk to hir posture with the realization that: "-- Hey, this means there'll be working tea in the morning before work tomorrow, /too/. Provided the zone hasn't moved too much. It's -- kinda unstable." "Sounds like a plan. We just need to go to my place and make sure Tove's okay with us running away and leaving him with the flower." Mel continues eating as she starts staggering sleepily toward the exit, glancing over her shoulder at B and nomming more mango, her expression asking, 'you coming?' B flicks the map off into emptiness, stifling a yawn and then filling hir mouth with more mango before trotting after Mel.