♅ third

[themistress]

[It's a bit late to be in the kitchen, really. But Mistress is a somewhat nocturnal creature (the night time is the best time for large and elaborate parties, after all), and she gets a little bored when the lobby calms down in the evening.

So tonight, she's decided to explore the kitchen. And though she's from medieval times, it's not the microwave or the refrigerator that's caught her eye. Oh no.]

What are all these foods, exactly? So many of them, in so many layers of wrapping.

[You see, Mistress is used to less-processed food, served with goblets of wine and mead. More modern foods have piqued her curiosity! She's currently sitting on the counter in the kitchen, journal perched in her lap.

Every single piece of processed cheese in the refrigerator has been unwrapped and laid out methodically. Ding-Dongs and Swiss Rolls have been stacked into thoughtful pyramids, with swords stuck through them. There's a large and explicit painting on the floor, done entirely in condiments (mayonnaise and a pickle have been put to particularly good use). Potato chips seem to have been of particular interest, as Mistress has opened and tried every flavor she found in the cupboards.

There are some greasy streaks in the journal as she wipes her hands.]

Are things not made fresh here? Everything seems to be in its own little bag and stored. And who created this barbeque potato chip? I need to know.



[ OOC: open in the kitchen or over the journal. And here is her obligatory permissions post link. ]

Comments

[knightprodigy]

[Nice catch.]

Now we construct.

[And Dick sets about spooning the mixture into their mugs, once again asking the castle for a jug of boiled milk before he starts pouring.]

So what you wanna do here is grab yourself two of those graham crackers, snap off a slab of chocolate and sandwich that and a marshmallow between the crackers. And dunk.

[Like so~]

[themistress]

[She watches this intently, then immediately replicates it although shame on you, Dick, a true s'more has a toasted marshmallow.]

And this is called what, again?

[knightprodigy]

[Give him an open fire or a device that won't nuke the chocolate and turn the crackers rock hard and he'll show her the True S'more experience.]

A s'more, although it usually calls for a camp fire. But dipping it in Ovaltine works pretty good.

[themistress]

Why would you put this on a fire? [She's eating it anyway. She eats exactly like you'd think she would. Really inappropriately.]

[knightprodigy]

[And here Dick is grateful he didn't decide to introduce her to hot dogs.]

You don't put it on a fire. You just hold it in the flames until the marshmallow gets all melted.

[themistress]

[Just wait until she looks into popsicles.

For a moment, Mistress looks at the remainder of the s'more she's holding. Then, her entire hand is abruptly engulfed in blue flame. A few seconds later, when the fire extinguished itself, she frowns, holding out a handful of now-charred graham cracker, made sticky with marshmallow and melted chocolate.]

That's hardly appetizing.

[knightprodigy]

[He's surprised only by the fact that there is suddenly!fire, not by the fact that she is capable of such things. After all, he's been around people who can do that and more since the age of twelve.

He chuckles.]

Just try it.

[themistress]

[It's clear when she takes a small bite that she's hesitant. After all, the whole thing was singed. But she does it anyway.]

The cracker was better before.

[knightprodigy]

Yes, well, I never said it was an exact science.

[themistress]

Did you invent this?

[knightprodigy]

[...it would only be a little white lie.

Buuuut Bat Conscience says no.

Stupid Bat Conscience.

Dick chuckles at that.]

Can't say that I did.

[themistress]

Well, that's too bad. I think whoever did invent it is worthy of a blowjob. [She's very matter-of-fact about it.]