paradisalogs | (no subject)

Who: Kalinda Sharma

kalinda & Hellboy

hellshaped.
What: Making pancakes. Making V-Day Pancakes. Also, there are candies there so you know what happens with those.
When: The morning of February 15th, because the candy effects should be gone by then, right?
Where: The kitchen of the castle. That's where the magic happens.
Rating: S for Smooches. Sexy Smooches.

That was sure a day. Leave it to Kalinda to be caught in the middle of all the insanity the castle decided to leave for its beloved residents. It was probably due to the fact she would never find herself celebrating the holiday to begin with, even if she had something remotely resembling a relationship-- which, again, was something she'd never find herself doing. Everything about love being in the air? Come on now. That'll never be her thing.

You know what would be her thing, though? Accepting a friend's proposal for breakfast. Not a castle-summoned breakfast, either. Something homemade, something that she could physically see being made without magic. Just the way she liked it.

And so, Kalinda would sit at the kitchen island, watching that large red friend of hers go to work. It certainly smelled good. Thoughts flashed briefly to Alicia's apartment, recalling how she'd occasionally make breakfast for her kids on the rare occasion she wasn't working, how the smell lingered...

But alas, she was far from such things. Better change those thoughts. "Do you cook often?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hellboy wasn't the best cook in the world, and although in Paradisa he'd had to quickly learn to improve in that skillset in order to not starve (because who thought wishing up food was a good idea?), pancakes remained his specialty. He couldn't make them super fancy or anything, but chocolate chip? Blueberry? No big deal.

At the stove, he glanced over his shoulder at her with a small smile -- which, on Hellboy's face, was nearly imperceptible. A slight turning up of the corners of his mouth.

"Kind of forced into it here," he said, the implication being that he avoids wishing for pretty much everything. "Pancakes, though -- I've always been good at that."

It always made Kalinda think when it came to making food and wishing for food. No one knew exactly where it was the native residents acquired their food in such large droves in order to fuel an entire city, so who's to say it was any better than getting it the quick way? But she wouldn't dwell on that. If anything, making meals "from scratch" felt a hell of a lot more "normal".

Just like having breakfast in the kitchen. It was quite some time since she did such a thing. "Let me guess. You're not one for short stacks."

That was how Hellboy thought about it, anyway. The natives down in the city grew their own food, but the soil had to be magic in some way too, didn't it? If the whole world was magic, then so too must have been everything that grew from it. But still. There must have been less of a 'cost' when making it yourself. There had to be.

The corners of Hellboy's mouth curve up even more, and he even goes so far as to wink. Yeah, take that.

"Hardly. That's for amateurs."

She couldn't help but chuckle. Coming from her usually "stonefaced" friend? It was kind of cute, in a strange way. But she wouldn't give him any jabs for it, considering the quirky charm.

"Well, I do apologize, but those portions are my preference, as amateurish as they are." She's a tiny little woman, okay? "I guess I'll have to be shown up, for once."

And she grins.

Yes, he was darn cute, thank you! Let it be said that Hellboy actually really enjoys flirting with attractive, nice ladies -- it makes him feel a little more normal. Even if he never really expects it to go anywhere.

"I'll try not to make you feel too bad," he quips back, tilting his head to indicate a grin of his own, since his mouth won't really do that. Meanwhile, he flips the pancakes out onto separate plates: one short stack and one stack that is decidedly not short at all.

Kalinda's all about flirting, even if it is nothing more than the light seasoning to a friendship. At least Hellboy was actually a friend and not desperate like a certain junior associate she knows. The charm on that, despite the friendship, got old fast. At least the big red guy was great, regardless.

"Do you have IHOP where you're from?" It was obvious he was from a modrn day Earth, even if she didn't know that about him. But considering restaurants and regions and how things are different in all those things, she can't help but ask. "I'm just asking in case there's a story of you terrorizing the place."

Because he's a big hungry man, not because he's a big scary demon!

Edited (MY PHONE SENT THIS PREMATURELY) 2013-03-05 21:26 (UTC)

"When I used to live in Connecticut, the closest one was about a half hour away," he answers a little thoughtfully. It seemed like ages since he'd been back in Fairfield. And when he pauses to consider it, he realizes it really has been a long time: eight years in the real world, and two in Paradisa. He'd been away from home for a decade.

It was a sobering thought.

Clearing his head, Hellboy continues casually: "So it's kind of a far drive just to play Godzilla in a restaurant."

"Better off at an independently owned place, then." She's positive there a handful of them in Connecticut, or hell, wherever you go. "The best thing about IHOP to begin with is all the different flavors they seem to get, but I'm sure mom and pop would be just as happy to oblige a paying customer."

He grins at her over his shoulder, in the weird way he does. "Independent places know you by name, if you go there often enough. You can tell them 'the usual' just like on TV and everything."

"Exactly the reason I like bringing them up. And visiting them, of course." She can't help but smile back, in that weird subtle way of hers. "I've only had that a few times, but it's more on a personal level rather than one from patronage."

"Well, then this'll be right up your alley," he says, amused, as he flips the pancakes onto two plates -- a huge stack for him and a far more sensible stack for her. Like you do.

His right hand is big enough to carry both plates, so he scoops up the syrup that had been resting on the counter with his other hand, and then brings everything over to the table. Setting everything down, he hands her a fork. "Get ready for the best pancakes in your whole life."