[For a long, quiet pause thereafter Evelyn realises that she hasn't stopped talking, and that she should pursue the primary purpose of her transmission.]
...back in Cairo, we used to get these- they would make sweets, out of nuts and honey. Would...you like some?
[He watches her go on with a fond look and an amused smile that doesn't hold a trace of jest. She could have continued to talk and he wouldn't have said a thing. There's something incredibly endearing about how she can fix on a topic and get so excited about it.
[Her travails have been considerably less embarrassing this way, when she has a small kitchen of her own in her rooms. The humiliation of ruining something complicated in public is an abysmal outcome.
Distractedly, Evelyn licks the honey from the fingertips of her left hand.]
Among...other things, there are a few different bits and bobs.
Baklava? Huh. Never heard of it. Gimme a few minutes.
[Sounds.. not American, but Dan's exposure to other countries is understandably limited. Through Evie's chatter he can pin it down to Egypt, however, and he can't imagine that she'd ask him to try something that she knew he'd object to.
The video tilts as he stands, and Oscar lets out a low 'woof' by his knee.]
[To be fair, Evelyn is fairly certain that most English people have no idea what baklava is, nor most of the other Middle Eastern dishes she knows, so it comes as no surprise that Dan is unfamiliar.]
Oh, ah- Oscar can come, if you'd rather not leave him alone?
[Cinnamon is sprawled somewhere in her foyer, Evelyn is certain she wouldn't mind canine company.]
Think it's more he'd rather I didn't leave him alone.
[Oscar perks up, and Dan snorts softly. That tears it, looks like the dog is coming after all. He lifts one eyebrow in Evie's direction then ends the call...
... and a few minutes later, knocks lightly on her door.]
[Comes the muffled declaration, and Evelyn opens the door shortly thereafter, breathless and dusty with flour. On a good day she's moderately competent at not mucking kitchen-related things up, but a few mishaps here and there are permissible.
Cinnamon trots over to nose at Oscar again while her master gestures that Dan enter.]
Please, come in- I, ah, just took something out of the oven.
[Dan looks at her as she opens the door, mussed and flour-dusted, and a single word idles it's way across his mind and settles there with an obnoxious kind of permanence. The word sticks it's metaphorical tongue out and digs in its heels, echoing around his thoughts with only one syllable.
'Wow'.
He grins crookedly and enters, closing the door behind him.]
Y' look nice. [He says, leaving Oscar to his puppy playdate while he joins Evelyn.] Smells good in here.
[Dan, who comes across as a salt-of-the-earth sort of fellow and rightly so, is not so provincial as to be unappreciative of luxuries when they are freely available and of quality stock. While her attempts at cooking and baking aren't exactly haute cuisine Evelyn firmly believes that she has improved since her first arrival in Wonderland.]
I was a little overzealous with the flour, [she admits sheepishly, one hand pressed to her cheek (which in turn leaves a white, dusty mark of its own on her jaw). Her blouse is a disaster.]
And mind you I'm not a professional, I was just homesick.
[Evelyn leads him into the little kitchen wing off to the right, where a steaming pan of little rectangles is cooling on the drop-leaf table.]
My mother used to make it all the time, it's probably why I have sweet tooth.
Couldn't tell. [He says cheekily, giving a small up-down gesture with one hand. Flour? What flour. He doesn't see any flour.
He can't say though that he doesn't appreciate luxuries when they are apparent. His idea of luxury runs a line far below where most would consider it - hot, clean water and food that doesn't give you stomach cramps is pretty high on his list. That there are things like the ingredients spare to make confectionery outside of sweet bread is more than novel.
Dan examines the little rectanglular food items as Evie keeps talking, then glances her way.]
Y'know, I'd offer t' share some of the stuff I'm used t' eating, but I don't think radscorpion gland soup is gonna appeal t' you. [He steps back and hooks his thumbs into his pockets.] It's kinda tangy. Weird aftertaste.
[Evelyn forces a laugh, dusting her apron off with one hand and stepping over to her morning's work. Having grown up in an extremely privileged household she's never really wanted for much outside of respect - and for the other nobility to stop calling her brother a bastard - and perhaps to be treated as an academic equal. Excellent food came with the territory.
Retrieving a little serving implement Evelyn begins prying some of the baklava off of the sheet, fumbling with the tool only when he elucidates on a "meal from home," as it were.]
...I'm sorry, did you say rad...scorpion? Is that some kind of- like one of the other oddities in the wasteland?
[He is right. It does not appeal to her, and it is evident in her expression.]
Yeah, yeah. They're about-- huh. [He casts his eyes around for something to compare the size of a radscorpion to so Evie can get a good idea of what he's talking about. He settles on gesturing to the couch.] Big as that, average size. Some get bigger. Like goddamn trucks.
[He sneaks one hand in to take one of the pieces as he casually continues like scorpions the size of cars are a completely normal thing to be used to seeing.]
They're fast too. An' sneaky. Burrow underground an' burst up under your feet. [Dan grins at her.] Met an old woman in a place called Primm made the best soup outta their stingers.
[Evelyn swallows hard and hopes that the expression of revulsion on her face isn't too obvious (knowing full well that it is) and abandons her spatula. Hip pressed against the table, arms folded over her chest, she thinks for a long moment before finally concluding:]
...kindly mark me down being someone to avoid any dish that has "scorpion" or "gland" in its name.
[She eyes the sticky pastry in his hand, raising an eyebrow.]
Are you going to eat it, or keep pretending you didn't pick that up when I wasn't looking?
[It is. It's so obvious and altogether entertaining that Dan is sorely tempted to go on to tell her about some even more unappealing things that he's had to eat for the sake of survival in the wasteland. There are things far more disgusting than scorpion gland soup.
For now, though, he'll stick to not spoiling her appetite.]
Pretendin' nothin'. I was enjoying the look on your face.
[He winks at her, then takes a bite of the pastry, making a surprised 'mm' sound and moving his hand to catch a few crumbs.]
[Evelyn rolls her eyes halfway across the room when he winks, because he's doing an exceptional job of turning on provincial charm and she is not having any of it. Waiting for the verdict of her handiwork she does hope that it's as good as intended, because this is her third batch for the morning and it took her ages to bake the dough the way it ought to be baked.
A perfectionist at heart.
His reaction is so startlingly visceral that Evelyn looks concerned, moving from the table to Dan with a couple of steps.]
Are you all right? It is awful? I'm not an expert, I know, and I tried to get the proportions in order-
[He tells her this with one hand raised and around a mouthful of pastry, then swallows before he continues. Dan has eaten a lot of different foods in his life - the post-apocalyptic wasteland manages to serve for a wide range of tastes if you're willing to look around - but he can't say he's ever tasted anything like that.
Maybe it's something to do with it being handmade. Wonderland could serve up anything he could ask for, but that didn't always make it good.]
[Damn good is the best sort of reaction Evelyn could have hoped for, which is why her pins and needles immediately dissipate, replaced by a bright grin at his conclusion. Admittedly, Dan isn't a connoisseur of pastries and neither is she, but if they're both satisfied with the outcome then it's enough for her.]
Really? Oh, thank God.
[Moving over to the corner Evelyn tugs a stool closer to the centre table, seating herself and reaching for baklava as well.]
I was a little worried, but it tastes as I remembered.
[As she sits, he finds a stool for himself and sits down beside her, eating the other half of the pastry and popping first his thumb, then his first and second finger into his mouth one after the other to catch the sugar-sweet coating.
He can see having too many of these as being a bad idea, but for now he reaches for another.]
Wouldn't mind tryin' more of your cooking. [Dan hesitates, then adds-] Lot of Pre-War food I never got to try, y'know. Anythin' that survived two hundred years was dried an' lasted that long at room temperature. None of it was great.
[Another small pastry halfway to her mouth, Evelyn watches distractedly as Dan licks his fingers with egregious satisfaction. She stares for a second too long before making a point to pick at the thin crust on top of her baklava, clearing her throat.]
That is...well. Yes. As I said-
[She's not an expert. Cough. Evelyn takes the change of subject and runs with it.]
Weren't you concerned you might contract some sort of bilious fever, eating something that old?
[He picks at the pastry in much the same way she's doing, looking at her with a twinkle of amused mischief in his eyes.] Sure. Plenty of people die eatin' stuff they shouldn't.
[But then he shrugs and looks down at his knees, tilting his head to one side in absent thought. Talking about home is strange when he isn't there... it never felt like things would be any different.]
But when the alternative is starvin' to death, I know which one I'd choose. We don't exactly have a lot of options back home.
[Evelyn is reminded - and not for the first time - how very lucky she is to have access to sundry comestibles that have not suffered the ravages of an explosive war. How easy it is to forget that their experiences are not at all the same, particularly when Dan takes such pleasure in such small things.]
I suppose not.
[Evelyn pries the crust of her baklava free and eats it, chewing thoughtfully for a long moment.]
[He often betrays his lack of in-depth Pre-War knowledge with simple and blunt questions. Why bother dancing around not knowing something when it's so much easier just to ask?
He finishes the piece of baklava he's holding and absently brushes the pad of his thumb against his first and second fingers.]
That uh.. [Dan snaps his fingers as if it might help him to remember.] Some kinda fruit?
[For another long moment Evelyn stares at him, aghast at his lack of culinary knowledge because of the way his world works. No strawberries, God forbid, did that mean no currants, no raspberries, no blueberries? No plums or figs, dates or cherries?
Evelyn sets her pastry down without another word and slides off of her stool, retrieving a small basket from the ice box in the corner before setting them on the table next to Dan.]
[He stares right back at her, eyebrows slightly raised as if to say 'well? say something'. Dan's experience of fruit was severely limited - he tried an apple once, but so long ago that he barely remembers anything about the experience save for a fleeting impression of sweetness and juice running down his chin.
Quiet, he watches her walk away and picks up one of the fruits from the basket she brings back. It's cold, and when he rubs his finger curiously over the skin his attention lingers on the small bumps that he cautiously identifies as seeds.]
Does it matter? [He moves the leaves out of the way with his thumb, frowning at the strawberry for a moment or two like he expects it to do something. Then he bites it, initially surprised by how easily it gives way under his teeth. He leaves the green stalk and a small amount of red-pink fruit held in his hand as he appears to carefully consider his opinion of this new experience.]
[To her credit, Evelyn isn't laughing or poking fun at his dubious appraisal of a harmless berry, but draws her knees high enough on the stool to prop her elbows up, chin in her hands. She grins at him, the anticipation killing her, while Dan tentatively takes a bite and makes an (accurate) observation about flavour.
Chewing on her lower lip through a smile Evelyn perks up, wondering how many different fruits she can ply him with before he asks her to stop.]
Do you like it? I used to beg my governess to let me have strawberries and cream every breakfast.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
video; 2/2
...back in Cairo, we used to get these- they would make sweets, out of nuts and honey. Would...you like some?
video;
Why would he want that to stop?]
Sure, I'll be right over. What're they called?
video;
[Her travails have been considerably less embarrassing this way, when she has a small kitchen of her own in her rooms. The humiliation of ruining something complicated in public is an abysmal outcome.
Distractedly, Evelyn licks the honey from the fingertips of her left hand.]
Among...other things, there are a few different bits and bobs.
video;
[Sounds.. not American, but Dan's exposure to other countries is understandably limited. Through Evie's chatter he can pin it down to Egypt, however, and he can't imagine that she'd ask him to try something that she knew he'd object to.
The video tilts as he stands, and Oscar lets out a low 'woof' by his knee.]
Nah, boy. You stay here, okay? I'll be back.
video;
Oh, ah- Oscar can come, if you'd rather not leave him alone?
[Cinnamon is sprawled somewhere in her foyer, Evelyn is certain she wouldn't mind canine company.]
video -> action;
[Oscar perks up, and Dan snorts softly. That tears it, looks like the dog is coming after all. He lifts one eyebrow in Evie's direction then ends the call...
... and a few minutes later, knocks lightly on her door.]
perma-action
[Comes the muffled declaration, and Evelyn opens the door shortly thereafter, breathless and dusty with flour. On a good day she's moderately competent at not mucking kitchen-related things up, but a few mishaps here and there are permissible.
Cinnamon trots over to nose at Oscar again while her master gestures that Dan enter.]
Please, come in- I, ah, just took something out of the oven.
no subject
'Wow'.
He grins crookedly and enters, closing the door behind him.]
Y' look nice. [He says, leaving Oscar to his puppy playdate while he joins Evelyn.] Smells good in here.
no subject
I was a little overzealous with the flour, [she admits sheepishly, one hand pressed to her cheek (which in turn leaves a white, dusty mark of its own on her jaw). Her blouse is a disaster.]
And mind you I'm not a professional, I was just homesick.
[Evelyn leads him into the little kitchen wing off to the right, where a steaming pan of little rectangles is cooling on the drop-leaf table.]
My mother used to make it all the time, it's probably why I have sweet tooth.
no subject
He can't say though that he doesn't appreciate luxuries when they are apparent. His idea of luxury runs a line far below where most would consider it - hot, clean water and food that doesn't give you stomach cramps is pretty high on his list. That there are things like the ingredients spare to make confectionery outside of sweet bread is more than novel.
Dan examines the little rectanglular food items as Evie keeps talking, then glances her way.]
Y'know, I'd offer t' share some of the stuff I'm used t' eating, but I don't think radscorpion gland soup is gonna appeal t' you. [He steps back and hooks his thumbs into his pockets.] It's kinda tangy. Weird aftertaste.
no subject
[Evelyn forces a laugh, dusting her apron off with one hand and stepping over to her morning's work. Having grown up in an extremely privileged household she's never really wanted for much outside of respect - and for the other nobility to stop calling her brother a bastard - and perhaps to be treated as an academic equal. Excellent food came with the territory.
Retrieving a little serving implement Evelyn begins prying some of the baklava off of the sheet, fumbling with the tool only when he elucidates on a "meal from home," as it were.]
...I'm sorry, did you say rad...scorpion? Is that some kind of- like one of the other oddities in the wasteland?
[He is right. It does not appeal to her, and it is evident in her expression.]
no subject
[He sneaks one hand in to take one of the pieces as he casually continues like scorpions the size of cars are a completely normal thing to be used to seeing.]
They're fast too. An' sneaky. Burrow underground an' burst up under your feet. [Dan grins at her.] Met an old woman in a place called Primm made the best soup outta their stingers.
no subject
...kindly mark me down being someone to avoid any dish that has "scorpion" or "gland" in its name.
[She eyes the sticky pastry in his hand, raising an eyebrow.]
Are you going to eat it, or keep pretending you didn't pick that up when I wasn't looking?
no subject
For now, though, he'll stick to not spoiling her appetite.]
Pretendin' nothin'. I was enjoying the look on your face.
[He winks at her, then takes a bite of the pastry, making a surprised 'mm' sound and moving his hand to catch a few crumbs.]
Holy shit.
no subject
A perfectionist at heart.
His reaction is so startlingly visceral that Evelyn looks concerned, moving from the table to Dan with a couple of steps.]
Are you all right? It is awful? I'm not an expert, I know, and I tried to get the proportions in order-
no subject
[He tells her this with one hand raised and around a mouthful of pastry, then swallows before he continues. Dan has eaten a lot of different foods in his life - the post-apocalyptic wasteland manages to serve for a wide range of tastes if you're willing to look around - but he can't say he's ever tasted anything like that.
Maybe it's something to do with it being handmade. Wonderland could serve up anything he could ask for, but that didn't always make it good.]
But it tastes damn good to me.
no subject
Really? Oh, thank God.
[Moving over to the corner Evelyn tugs a stool closer to the centre table, seating herself and reaching for baklava as well.]
I was a little worried, but it tastes as I remembered.
no subject
[As she sits, he finds a stool for himself and sits down beside her, eating the other half of the pastry and popping first his thumb, then his first and second finger into his mouth one after the other to catch the sugar-sweet coating.
He can see having too many of these as being a bad idea, but for now he reaches for another.]
Wouldn't mind tryin' more of your cooking. [Dan hesitates, then adds-] Lot of Pre-War food I never got to try, y'know. Anythin' that survived two hundred years was dried an' lasted that long at room temperature. None of it was great.
no subject
That is...well. Yes. As I said-
[She's not an expert. Cough. Evelyn takes the change of subject and runs with it.]
Weren't you concerned you might contract some sort of bilious fever, eating something that old?
no subject
[But then he shrugs and looks down at his knees, tilting his head to one side in absent thought. Talking about home is strange when he isn't there... it never felt like things would be any different.]
But when the alternative is starvin' to death, I know which one I'd choose. We don't exactly have a lot of options back home.
no subject
I suppose not.
[Evelyn pries the crust of her baklava free and eats it, chewing thoughtfully for a long moment.]
...have you ever had a strawberry?
no subject
[He often betrays his lack of in-depth Pre-War knowledge with simple and blunt questions. Why bother dancing around not knowing something when it's so much easier just to ask?
He finishes the piece of baklava he's holding and absently brushes the pad of his thumb against his first and second fingers.]
That uh.. [Dan snaps his fingers as if it might help him to remember.] Some kinda fruit?
no subject
Evelyn sets her pastry down without another word and slides off of her stool, retrieving a small basket from the ice box in the corner before setting them on the table next to Dan.]
Eat the red part, not the leafy bit.
no subject
Quiet, he watches her walk away and picks up one of the fruits from the basket she brings back. It's cold, and when he rubs his finger curiously over the skin his attention lingers on the small bumps that he cautiously identifies as seeds.]
Does it matter? [He moves the leaves out of the way with his thumb, frowning at the strawberry for a moment or two like he expects it to do something. Then he bites it, initially surprised by how easily it gives way under his teeth. He leaves the green stalk and a small amount of red-pink fruit held in his hand as he appears to carefully consider his opinion of this new experience.]
... It's sweet.
no subject
Chewing on her lower lip through a smile Evelyn perks up, wondering how many different fruits she can ply him with before he asks her to stop.]
Do you like it? I used to beg my governess to let me have strawberries and cream every breakfast.
(no subject)