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Post by Sam O'Connor on Oct 12, 2010 12:45:07 GMT -5
"Bollocks!" Sam cried, hopping in circles, clutching at his burnt finger. "Stupid hot water, oh Christ, ow, oh my God." Shaking his head, he blew on his finger. How on Earth is that going to help? "Sam, you big baby," he said to himself, finally making his way over to the sink, running the injured finger under cold water. The pain immediately subsided, and he let out a sigh of relief, running his other hand up into his hair, pulling his head down, cursing his own stupidity. The crew very nearly could have found a shrivelled finger in with their carrots if he hadn't been quick. That would be one way to get sacked. Jobless and fingerless, would a pathetic mess he would have been.
Once his finger was sufficiently numb and blue, he turned the tap off, and dried up the mess. He probably wouldn't need to visit the Medical Bay, but if it kept hurting, he'd make a trip specially for his finger. It was then that he turned and saw the people in the mess hall staring at him. Whoops. "Hey guys," he said with a big grin, "I'm okay, thanks for asking." Turning back to the food, he went back to work. He wasn't expecting someone to actually come up and talk to him... |
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Post by claire on Oct 13, 2010 16:54:14 GMT -5
The food here had gotten better with the new chef. Although she hadn't actually caught him in action, she definitely enjoyed his work,or masterpieces as it seemed. With a growling stomach and a smile permanently plastered across her face, she walked gracefully down towards the mess hall. It was dinner time. Today, it seemed like the menu was exceptionally good. Shepherd's Pie, and from the smell of it, just like her mother had made it back home.
Claire closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent that hung in the air. Suddenly, a voice of pain rose out and clipped her from her reflective bubble. Her grey eyes flew open at the exclamation and upon immediate reaction, tried to find whoever was in danger. Caring was simply in her blood. A voice from the kitchen called out he was fine, but she hardly believed it after a cry that loud. The rest of the crew continued to eat with a shrug of their shoulders, but Claire had other plans.
With a disregard to where she should or shouldn't go, she walked over and gently pushed on the swinging door s to the kitchen, "Oi, mate, you okay?" she asked gently, walking over to the man wrapping his finger. "Looks like an awfully big nick on your finger there. You sure you're alright?" She took his hand softly and pulled it close in inspect his finger. She was no medical officer, but if anyone knew anything about pain, it was most certainly her.
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Post by Sam O'Connor on Oct 13, 2010 17:09:14 GMT -5
Sam barely had time to touch the pan again, his finger smarting like crazy, when he heard a voice behind him. "What? Huh? Yeah, I'm fine," he said, his Northern Irish accent broad and strong. It was a wonder people understood him at times. Swivelling round, he took one look at Claire and almost forgot to stop. Hel-lo. He paused a moment, he hadn't said that out loud, right? No, good. Phew.
"Well, actually," he said as she seized his finger and his winced, "it bloody hurts. But none of those guys out there were going to give a damn. Apparently I was wrong about one person though." He offered her a small smile. She handled his finger with care, giving it a once over. "I'll get over it." He could run it under the cold water again if need be. "I'm Sam by the way, the clumsy fool of a chef who tried to burn his hand off. I know it's a mouthful, but you'll get used to it," he grinned, "how about you?" |
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Post by claire on Oct 13, 2010 17:49:58 GMT -5
Claire broke her smile again. "You most certainly aren't." She unwrapped his messy attempt and wrapped it tightly with a clean fresh band aide, that happened to be inside a box hiding in the corner. He tried to say he was fine, but it was hard to fake the face he was wearing. It was deep, she could feel the pulse as his finger throbbed. "There, all better. [/b] She patted his hand with a soft smile and folded her arms.
"Caring might as well be my middle name." she teased. "I'm too soft for my own good, makes me wonder why I do what I do."she gave a small giggle and watched him return to his work. He still upheld the conversation, which she instinctively continued. "Claire, Claire Dubrovskiy. But you can call me whatever you'd like." She broke another smile, finding them hard to ignore around him. "The..last name is quite Russian, but I am very British. Oh...I I'm the Weapons Specialist on board, but..I usually just sit and read, and eat your amazing food."
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Post by Sam O'Connor on Oct 13, 2010 18:09:04 GMT -5
"Well, I'm pretty sure I was Sam the last time I checked, but I could be wrong," he smirked, dicing the carrots quickly and nimbly before sliding them into the boiling hot water that had possibly scarred his finger for life. "Thank you, madam, for the plaster. It appears you are a bandaging master," he paused, "no particular rhyme intended." He couldn't help but grin at himself. He really was a big goof.
"All right, Claire 'Caring' Dubrovskiy," Russian didn't mingle all that well with Irish, his accent flattened out when he said the word, "how about I call you Sky? Or is that one already taken by someone else?" He didn't know how many people she knew on board yet, or how many people she'd said that sentence to. "The Weapons Specialist, huh? Well, remind me not to piss you off," he chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at her with a wide smile. "Well, blow me away, you're British?" he teased her, "never could have guessed. Bet you have no idea where I'm from."
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Post by claire on Oct 14, 2010 4:43:06 GMT -5
Claire laughed as he explained his name. "Well it is very good to meet you sam." She smiled broadly, and watched him return to his chopping. "You are quite welcome dear. Just be careful there....I'd rather not bandage you again, well I wouldn't mind, but I..I'd rather you not..not get hurt again." Claire stumbled over her words adorably, sucking her lip to keep from talking.
"Sky works fine. No one here has yet to call me that." she giggled again, glancing over his shoulder to watch him work. 'The guns are just for show, I'm a sweetheart I swear." She liked his sense of humor and his genuine calmness as a person. He seemed level headed and one that was true down to his very bones. Right then and there, Claire decided that she would be his friend. She liked him, not in a romantic sense, but just the fact that she needed some sort of friend aboard this darn ship. "Irish, adorably Irish Mister O'Conner. Do you need me to help you with anything? Chopping, boiling? I used to help my mum cook all the time."
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Post by Sam O'Connor on Oct 14, 2010 10:35:54 GMT -5
"Right back at ya, Sky," he smiled. Chuckling, he said, "don't worry, I'll be careful. We don't want you to have to bandage me up like a mummy." She was cute, stuttering and caring about him despite the fact that they had only met a couple of minutes ago. "I'm only twenty, who knows, maybe if I accidentally lop something off it'll grow back again," he grinned, joking with her. He assumed she wouldn't take him seriously. After all, he was rather attached to his limbs, in more ways than one.
"I believe it," he said, "my knight in seering pink." His calm nature came from his Grandparents, but it was a stereotypical Irish thing as well - more so in the South where they talked so slowly most of them sounded permanently half asleep. Where he came from, they had more life in them. "Oh adorably," he repeated with a wide smile, "she compliments well, I see." He raised his eyebrows slightly when she asked if she could help. "Well, seeing as you're British, and this is a recipe from your home country, you can help by stirring the mince over there." He jabbed his tumb towards the stove, "tell me when it's brown, then we're good to go." He'd mash the potatoes while she was doing that.
Peeling said potatoes, he glanced at her. "So, Miss Sky, how did you become interested in weapons, pray tell?"
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Post by claire on Oct 20, 2010 20:48:55 GMT -5
When Sam mentioned his age, Claire defiantly felt her age creep up on her. "Oh you're such a young thing." she chuckled. He was a charming fellow, too young for a romantic interest, not that it had even considered such. No, she still couldn't get her mind off of that on fellow in the elevator. James was it? He made her feel funny, right down to her toes. She smiled a little, just thinking about him, only to snap herself back into the reality of the moment.
Claire chuckled a little as he called her his knight. "Only to my...well you're not exactly a maiden, but...you know what I mean." Claire chuckled again and bit her lip. He was what she expected a brother to be like, if she had one. It was always just the girls. The 3 crazy Sky girls, that were far too clean cut for their own good. All of them were, not one of them a rebellious bone in their body. "Yes, adorably mister O'Conner." She pushed him playfully, as if she had known him forever. It was strange being so friendly with a complete stranger, but to Claire, it was only natural.
He told her where she would be most useful and she was straight to it. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of a home cooked, hearth meal. It was almost too good to be true. "Actually, I really don't remember. I mean, like I said, it's pretty contradictory. I just...do. I guess I like being the hero. Sort of a nice feeling to do good for once. "
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Post by Sam O'Connor on Oct 21, 2010 3:46:00 GMT -5
"I know," Sam said with a melodramatic sigh and a shake of the head, "young and adorable, whatever am I to do with myself?" It wasn't long before his face found its smirk again, and he concentrated on making the mash as buttery as possible without taking away from the smooth texture of the potatoes. He was young, possibly the youngest person on board now - apart from Hugo's daughter, Lisa, who continually came back to him for more delicious food and for a giggle - and he felt it. Everyone was in their mid to late twenties, stretching to the thirties and forties. He felt like the baby of the crew.
He chuckled when she said she couldn't exactly call him her maiden. "I don't know, I have the fair skin, maybe if I grew my hair out and found a dress I'd fit the bill perfectly." He snorted then, "except, I don't ever remember any fair maiden ever being this tall." He was loving how naturally outgoing and friendly she was, usually it took a little more of his Irish charm to get people talking, but Claire had just dived in straight away. She shoved him, and he let out a 'ha!" "No need to get violent there, love, you'll have your food soon enough. Starting a riot is unnecessary." He grinned across at her playfully. He'd found a friend already.
Sam nodded, "who doesn't like being the hero, really?" he said, pushing the now prepared mash to one side, draining the carrots before sliding them in with the nearly browned beef. "I have to stick to enriching people's lives with wonderful food." Although, his telekinetic powers had come in handy a couple of times when it came to helping people, but he never took the credit.
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