ArchivedLogs:Riot of Cheer

Riot of Cheer
Dramatis Personae Egg, Ion, Jax, Steve	2015-12-19 "{Yo, dude, I'm /always/ prepared to Christmas.}"
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. It's crisp out, not quite frigid yet but as the sun sets it's getting there. In the kitchens, though, it's warm, toastier still over by the stoves where a veeeery large pot is currently simmering with cider. Jax is juicing clementines, flicking the seeds aside onto a plate and collecting the juice in a small bowl. The room is fairly glowing, small glittering crystalline ornaments -- balls and snowflakes, tiny angels and stars, teardrop-shapes and candy-cane shapes and snowmen and little bells, each of them lit with a small white light as they flutter about the ceiling. Wreaths of evergreen roping decorated in ribbons of silver and red are strung around the edges of the room; sprigs of holly (the berries occasionally also glowing) hang in the corners. Jax, in jeans and boots and black sweater, hums quietly to himself -- "Little Drummer Boy" -- as he squeezes the juice. Steve trots down the stairs, buttoning a blue-and-green flannel over a white A-shirt as he goes, the more recent tears in his dark blue jeans neatly mended. His shield and its harness both hanging from one arm, and he shrugs the whole assemblage on with as much easy familiarity as most men slip into shirts. The shield is subtly changed: the five-pointed white star at its center turned into an eight-pointed Star of Bethlehem. He waves to Jax as he enters the kitchen. "\{Want any help?\}" He is already going to wash his hands. The door from the sunroom bangs open. Ion has on a red Santa hat, his scarf festooned in tinsel; the thick (new!) sling wrapped around him has a tiny stocking dangling from it. And a floppy-eared bulging-eyed head poking up over his shoulder where Egg -- very visible owing to the large and glittery sequined reindeer-antler headband perched on their head. "{Oh /shit/.}" For a moment after this Ion is /actually/ quiet, his bounding steps skidding to a halt just inside the door to stop and stare upwards, mouth hanging slightly open as he looks up at the floating lights above with a look of pure wide-eyed delight on his face. Jax glances up, startled by these arrivals -- /all/the decorations in the room flicker and vanish. Briefly. Only briefly, and then return as a warm smile spreads across his face. "{There's pomegranate,}" he points this out to Steve, "{that needs cleaning, too. Thanks. -- Oh. Oh /gosh/ that's precious, Egg-honey, don't you already /have/horns.}" "{Good man! You come prepared to Christmas.}" Steve offers Ion a fist to bump before actually making it to the sink. He doesn't seem to fully notice the decorations floating above them until they disappear, at which point he blinks. And blinks several more times when they reappear, though he smiles now, soft and wistful. Hands washed, he fills a mixing bowl half-way with water and starts pulling the pomegranate apart in it. "{I find on the Internets, many events to sing the Christmas songs. But not go to houses like we used to. We do this...not offensive, or strange? Many neighbors, not Christian.}" Steve's offer of knuckletap pulls Ion out of his reverie. "{Yo, dude, I'm /always/ prepared to Christmas.}" The tap of his knuckles to Steve's comes with a visible spark, a muscle-tensing jolt of energy before he leans against a counter nearby. "{Then we sing them something else, right? I know some badass drinking songs, huh? Maybe some fucking /fight/ song, get people /amped/ for the holidays.}" Jax is opening up his mouth to answer Steve when Ion does instead. His knuckles move to his lips, pressing there lightly; he stifles a small chuckle, the lights in the decorations momentarily rippling brighter. "{Door-to-door... Oh, goodness. Are we trying to spread holiday cheer or start a riot?}" The zap of Ion's contact does not seem to surprise or bother Steve. He lifts a handful of jewel-like pomegranate seeds from the water and drops them into a smaller bowl. "{If I know the song, I'll sing it with you,}" he assures the electrokinetic. "{And we not need go door-to-door, but...}" His smile brightens when the decorations, do. "{Maybe can start a /cheerful/ riot.}"