paradisa | ♅ third

[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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I did not, your obscene artwork started this.

My artwork was far from obscene. I didn't even include anybody's fists going into fun places.

Regardless, the topic is now closed, there is no need to keep bringing it up.

You keep bringing it up.

[Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he resolved to take the high road.]

Very well, would you like a cup of cocoa?

Hmmn, yes, you may make cocoa for me.

[There now, that was much more civilised. He does just that, making delicious cocoa and passing her a mug carefully.]

Mind yourself, my dear, it's hot.

[Mistress, who has actually never had cocoa, just immediately dunks her middle finger into the mug and then sucks it clean, in the most absolutely obscene manner possible.]

[Sitting down opposite her and sipping his own, Aziraphale genuinely doesn't seem to notice, more concerned about her dipping her finger into boiling liquid.]

I wouldn't do that, the drink is quite hot and you could scald yourself.

Oh, don't worry. It's not easy for my hands to burn.

[And to illustrate, her hands spontaneously light up blue, though she doesn't actually do anything before they go back to normal.]

[He blinks, slightly surprised, before prodding at the marshmallow in his cup which had soaked up all the cocoa and was attempting to congeal onto the sides.]

Still, no reason to tempt fate, hm?