[MINGLE] Crab Boil

[markwatney]

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Inn front lawn
WHEN: 21 June 2018, afternoon/evening and onward
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
NOTES: A few thinsgs: You may assume your character helped set up; There are tubers in pot with the red salt, negating the warmth effect; The list of of potluck dishes is here; The list of local provisions is here

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The weather is great, the sun is starting to dip toward the horizon, and it's pleasantly mild. Time for an (extremely) old-fashioned low country boil.

We've got two small fire pits built out in front of the inn, each with a massive pot filled with loads of vegetables — corn, carrots, potatoes, onions — and of course the rainbow crabs Finnick and Annie discovered not long after we arrived here. We've even got salt, if you can believe it, although the red salt in this place is pretty spicy and usually makes me sweat, so I've only put it in the one pot, and then set a bowl of it out for garnishing.

Tables and chairs have been brought out from inside, a couple of them set aside specifically for piles of plates, bowls, cups and whatever potluck provisions the rest of the village brings.

Comments

[freightcars]

He shifts with her, head ducking and hair falling as they move toward one of the tables. With a twinge of soreness he lowers himself, resembling more like the old man he actually is in that moment than he has in a really long time. He exhales as he settles his elbows onto the table.

What's he been up to you ask? Aside from getting the shit kicked out of him and kicking back harder in turn? "Gave my blood to a vampire. That was... something."

[womanofvalue]

Peggy narrows her eyes at him, pressing her lips together firmly. "You know I'm going to yell at you," she clarifies, feeling like she ought to start her comment with this. "At the same time, I'm not sure whether I'm intending to yell at you for being so stupid or worrying that there's a vampire and I'm not sure we have a plan to deal with that."

"Pick which I begin with," she insists, as if she's somehow giving Barnes a genuine choice here.

[freightcars]

Somehow, someway, even though they weren't close, deep down he knew it was going to get him yelled at. He accepts it with amused resignation. Seems to ponder her question with the gentle narrowing of his eyes, then points the cup at her.

"Worrying about the vampire." He decides, figuring maybe he can derail her before the you're an idiot, James Barnes part.

[womanofvalue]

Well, fine, they can start there, but she intends to work her way back around to the other topic and he won't be able to stop her. "You offering your blood up regularly is hardly a sustainable plan," she says, already trying to be strategic about this, despite it being completely new.

"Also, is your blood going to do anything different than someone else's?" There is that to consider, because if they're supercharging a vampire up, she would like to know.

[freightcars]

He shrugs a shoulder, because he doesn't actually know the answer to either of those questions. Picks absently at the rim of his cup, running a metal thumb over the lip.

"Didn't seem to," He answers, thinking back. "And she only needs it once a week. Seems sustainable enough, they let you donate every two days, so."

Plenty of time to get his count up again before round two. That being said, Sam seemed to have other unnamed volunteers she's been circling to. A little worrisome, considering. "You think of anyone better equipped to stop her, let me know."

[womanofvalue]

"I don't want to stop anything," Peggy says, stunned at the idea of that. After all, they're all sharing a space together, aren't they? It seems strange for her to imagine the idea of a vampire, but if that's what they have...

She breathes out, worried. "If you find that you need more people to volunteer to keep her fed and sated, if you're finding it's too much for you, please don't hesitate to call me." She can volunteer, too, and she's more than willing to make sure they stay safe and everyone is well.

[freightcars]

He hadn't meant stopping her from feeding entirely, no, what he'd meant was to physically restrain her if she got too out of her mind while feeding. If she took things too far. The fact that the possibility hadn't crossed Peg's mind, though, makes him opt to leave it that way instead of explaining. If she knows that's within the realm of possibility she might be more hesitant to sign off on his donations.

So instead he simply nods, lips pursed, harboring the little white lie inside himself. "Yeah. I can do that. I'll let you know."

[womanofvalue]

"Good," she says, deciding to drain the very last of the alcohol despite how strong it is and what it's going to do to her. Sometimes, she's not sure why she holds onto so much control here, when it's all so frustrating here. "And promise me that you're fine," she says quietly.

"I know that we're still strangers, to you, but I want to make sure you're fine," she says quietly. "Though, maybe you're beginning to like me," she teases. "I did get your drink, after all."

[freightcars]

His lips twitch a little; he thinks they might have different definitions of the word 'strangers', or perhaps it's just his life experience has been so rough as to make him form a bond with the echoes of his past more quickly than he ought to. The fact of the matter is he knew her, he knew her before everything. She was an ally, a friendly face, a piece of his past that wasn't soaked in blood. That alone made them friends, and the kindness she showed him since his arrival only cements that into place for him.

So yeah, she got to take his cup. Small price to pay for what he's earning in return.

He doesn't say all that though, he just lets his lips twitch up into a soft and rare smile, a small thing. "I promise. I'd be a little better if this vodka didn't taste like shit, but sometimes you gotta know when to choose your battles."

[womanofvalue]

Peggy lets out a laugh at that, wishing that she still had enough alcohol to share around, but she's not giving up her emergency bottle of whiskey for anything. "I think that's just an excuse for you to learn the fine art of alcohol making. I know of at least three regiments that managed a still in Europe," she guarantees.

She'd never given them up to Phillips, mainly because she'd been so impressed with their ability to create something in the field. Not to mention, she always appreciated the free samples.

[freightcars]

He scoffs, a soft sound. He wouldn't put it past a few of his commandos to gather up the gumption to start up a still, but he's got no interest in taking the time or putting in the effort for it. The odds that he accidentally blows off his other arm somehow are way too high. Or maybe he'll wind up poisoning Steve accidentally in some cruel twist of ironic fate.

His expression reads the sentiment easily, a flat and unmotivated thing. "Think I'll pass, I doubt I could do any better."

[womanofvalue]

Honestly, she just wants someone to take up the charge, because if not, then she can foresee herself elbow-deep in parts in order to make something work that has a better chance of blowing up. So, really, Barnes has the safer idea here. "Probably smartest," she agrees, reaching over to set her cup down and giving his arm a gentle squeeze to offer her parting.

"I think I'm going to see what crabs are left, now that you've helped whet my appetite with liquor. Thanks muchly, once again," she says, with a pleased smile at him.