Hannibal's house, Sunday morning

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan still had no idea where he was, but this place wasn't too bad. He probably wouldn't call it Paradise, so he hoped it wasn't for good, but - not bad.

He pulled aside one of the drapes to look out the glass-paned window. He wasn't much of a singing type, but he found himself doing it anyway. "Sol esse lucet, nubes absunt."

No, not a bad day, he supposed.




[OOC: Yay for Black Sabbath in Latin! :D Open post for anyone who stayed the night or wants to drop by.]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

This house was a perfect match for him! You know, most days.

Tristan just shrugged; clearly neither of them spoke a language the other knew. He could, however, open the door he'd found to the tiny cold-store, showing her what was there. Eggs, at least, he recognised, and he was pretty sure about the meat and cheese, but it was covered strangely. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

[14andseven]

Piper was just as happy talking to herself, too. "There's some good stuff in here," she said, reaching in to grab a couple items, checking labels and sniffing the eggs. "I could do an omelette?" she suggested, holing up the eggs. "Or, well, maybe scrambled eggs with stuff in them."

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan smiled and nodded. Eggs were good. Now all they needed was some sort of fire. There was wood in the other room, which he went to fetch; this floor looked sturdy enough to build something on. Or should they go outside?

[14andseven]

Well, now, where was he going? Piper shrugged and checked through the cabinets until she found a pan. It didn't look very teflon-y. Was she supposed to oil it first, then?

She shrugged, put it on the stove, and turned on the burner. There may have been a few moments of happily admiring the blue gas flame, the smells and rhythms of the kitchen.

"It's the simple things you miss the most." She cracked an egg over the pan and watched it fry, then cursed. She was going to scramble that. . . .

[sharp_as_knives]

Tristan came back with the wood, and stared for a second at the fire already going, then shrugged and set the wood back down. That was definitely a handy trick, however she'd done it.

Hannibal and his floors owed you one, Piper.

[14andseven]

Huh. Why was he carrying wood?

"I kind of already messed up omelettes," Piper said. "But if we've got bread, I can make them breakfast sandwiches." She hoped.

She tried to make a bread shape with her hands. "Bread? Oh jesus, what's the word. . . . Pan? No, that's Spanish. . . ."

[sharp_as_knives]

Close enough, especially given she was cooking! "Pane?" Tristan brightened a bit - hey, a word they shared! And he'd even found some of that yesterday while exploring. He went to the breadbox in the corner and opened it up; there were an Italian loaf crusted with seeds and a dense loaf of wheat bread. "Tibī placet?"

[14andseven]

One solitary word. "Oo, not the seedy one." That was more of a side dish bread. She pointed. "The brown one. Uh, marrón?"

What? Spanish worked a minute ago. Maybe she'd luck out.

[sharp_as_knives]

Nope, sorry; one word it was! But pointing was good. He took out the bread and handed it to her. And he knew where the knives were, too (very good knives), so he got a largish one of those and flipped it over hilt-first.