sixthiterationlogs | mingle | we have bread and fishes and a jug of.... well, herbal tea.

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 15th August | Noon
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: All sections are completely free for all! You can handwave your character helping out or thread it out, or just jump in to them eating. All characters are ICly invited, as they are every day. In light of the illness plot, feel free to use this post as an excuse for your characters to catch ill or spread the plague around.
STATUS: Open and ongoing!

Rain, hail, shine; blizzard, earthquake or lightning storm, the meals at the Inn have continued. People can, and do, wander in at breakfast and supper - as long as the stores are enough for three meals, anyway - but the main meal remains the one at midday. It's this meal which is the main event that Kate structures her day around, making sure volunteers arrive to help prepare, serve, and then clean; double-checking that there is enough food for all, that stores aren't too low and that fresh greens have been gathered. With the village chickens now producing eggs regularly there's a welcome addition of protein to the foodstuffs, and by now there are a number of experienced cooks in the village. At least, experienced in the ways of cooking communally and with what's on hand.

The main room of the Inn is swept, dusted; cutlery and bowls, plates are laid out on the sideboards in piles to be collected as people need. Everything is as it should be, even if some people - Kate included - are feeling a bit under the weather. But that's to be expected, isn't it? Everyone gets run down, has a day or two of feeling off colour. Certainly, it's nothing to worry about.

So come on in, help at the kitchen or pull up a chair at a table and enjoy some warm food and company while the outside confusion stays firmly outside.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Pizza's something you're never gonna see here, unless you get incredibly lucky." The words are given with a small smirk from Clint from a couple chairs down the table on the opposite side, close enough to hear and talk but not close enough to be intrusive. He'd turned up relatively last-minute to help with any kitchen prep, but that was usually the case given the number of things he was working on or otherwise keeping occupied with, and he'd gone through the line as normal and claimed a seat, intending to be back at it quickly. But the general lunch call is a good spot to gauge the feel of the village on any given day, so it's a time when he pays attention to everything going on as well. And obviously he's paid enough attention to hear that offhand remark.

"It's pretty good, you know. Not pizza, but good. Miss Kate knows what she's doing." Clint's taste buds are... well, not dead, but inured to basically everything short of eating dog and cat. He's been to far too many places in far too many situations to still be a picky eater, not that he was ever one to begin with... but he does agree that pizza would be nice to have sometimes, and he sighs a little as he looks at the soup. "I'm gonna pretend it's pizza, too."

Clary looked up at the owner of the voice with a very discernable frown. That was not what she wanted to hear, even if she already knew that it was true. "How very lucky?" She heard herself asking as if there was a chance in hell that she'd be able to eat pizza while she was trapped in this Red versus Blue type canyon.

She blows across her spoon and then takes a bit. It's good, not what she's used too but good. Clary never thought she'd miss MSG before but she could taste the stark difference between food that was cooked without chemicals. It was another weird part about this village that Clary was having trouble wrapping her head around. "Miss Kate? She's the woman who owns the inn or runs it or whatever." It didn't sound like Clary was talking to Clint but musing out loud for the world to hear.

Before giving him a chance to answer her first hypothetical question, she asked another. "What's your favorite pizza?"

"Lucky as in, maybe one day you'll find a box outside your door that's got a pizza in it, or the stuff to make a pizza. Doesn't happen all that often." Sam'd gotten one of those once, a breakfast thing. Clint had stolen most of the coffee, much to Sam's annoyance. But as for actual pizza, Clint had yet to see one since he'd arrived, several months before. Actually, at this point, he probably couldn't eat most of the stuff he was used to at home; it'd been so long since he'd had anything that wasn't fully natural that his body probably couldn't handle it now. Bit of a depressing thought, really, when it struck him just how long he'd been here. How long away from his home and family.

About to reply that yes, Kate was the one who ran the inn (although at this point she probably did own it, given squatter's rights), his train of thought is interrupted by the young woman's next question. Eh, no harm. "Meat lover's, but barbecue chicken's pretty good, too. Or pretty much anything." Pizza's his preferred form of takeout food; always has been, always will be. And he can eat it pretty much any way. "Just's long as it's got protein on it. Can't have a pizza topped with salad." Maybe he could just will the soup into a pizza...

"Oh right, the box thing. Izzy mentioned something about that." It didn't make much sense to Clary but then again, this whole trapped-in-a-canyon thing didn't make much sense to her either.

She looked thoughtfully at her soup before shrugging and taking a few more bits. It was delicious though it still tasted weird to Clary who had only been in the village for a few weeks. "Tofu and pineapple is what I'm used too." She laughed, "My best friend is a vegetarian. Otherwise it's meat lovers all the way, just don't tell him that if he ever showed up here." She smiled at Clint and took another bite.

"You get New York pizza or some weird blasphemous kind?" If he said that he liked Chicago pizza then they can't be friends. Clary was a New York girl.

"Yeah, the box thing. You don't see them too much - some kind of 'reward system,' or something like that. Doesn't make a lot of sense, but at least most of the time they're useful." Like his knives - he always wears them, because he always has to have a weapon on him, it's just instinct unless he's with his children (and even then he can use basically anything as a weapon, so it still kind of counts). He's also picked up a few other things from people that've vanished from the village, but as for actual boxes he's only gotten the one so far. At least that one gave him something that is good for so many things he needs to do. "It's not like you can ask them to send you something and they'll do it, but the stuff they do send is mostly something you can use. Or something you can eat - or drink."

Another few bites of soup, because he does need to eat even if he's wistfully imagining pizza right now instead of soup, and Clint answers the question. "Anything I can get my hands on. Where I grew up, they didn't have 'styles' - barely had pizza. New York's the best kind, though."

Clary exhaled a slow breath of air. She wanted to find pencils or something that she could draw with that wasn't just charcoal. While she enjoyed the medium, it wasn't the same as other options.

She ate a few more bites, thinking over what Clint had said. "New York is the best kind." She agreed as if that's all he had said. Pizza was serious business. Well, it wasn't but it was a more pleasant topic to think about than this.

"That sounds interesting though. I wonder why." Why seemed to be the hardest question to answer. "Oh, I'm Clary by the way. I don't think we've met. I'm still learning the ropes or... lack-there-of."

mingle | we have bread and fishes and a jug of.... well, herbal tea.

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