[ Signs of life become a little more apparent after a moment— A faint tin of metal scraping on metal, the fridge door closing with a thump, sudden wafting of peanuts and cilantro. And of course Rafe actually answering. ]
Check in went all right?
[ He assumes so; Chloe would call and inform him otherwise. There's a few matters of logistics and red tape left before they can take off to the fun part of the job and while he has plenty to do in the meantime, he's starting to get that itch under his skin from staying too long in Manhattan. Not that he's bored, just that he's wasting time that could be spent on something better.
Then again not as if this were possible in the field. Camp mess cooking is fine enough and the local flavors are always a highlight wherever the dig takes them, but he always prefers cooking for himself if given the chance. Call it control, call it... Okay, yeah, it's more control than anything else, but he does enjoy it. A glass of red wine in his hand (paired to tonight only because he likes the taste), steam in his face, the slow bubble of sauce in the pan. Little things. ]
There's cold beers in the fridge, or if you're up for something harder you can check in the cabinet.
[ The nice thing about Thai is it's mostly in the sauce. Everything else can be kept warm (and is, in the oven, a mess of noodles and chicken and shredded vegetables) however long and it's practically forgotten as the sauce thickens and absorbs another helping of sriracha and ginger. ]
no subject
Check in went all right?
[ He assumes so; Chloe would call and inform him otherwise. There's a few matters of logistics and red tape left before they can take off to the fun part of the job and while he has plenty to do in the meantime, he's starting to get that itch under his skin from staying too long in Manhattan. Not that he's bored, just that he's wasting time that could be spent on something better.
Then again not as if this were possible in the field. Camp mess cooking is fine enough and the local flavors are always a highlight wherever the dig takes them, but he always prefers cooking for himself if given the chance. Call it control, call it... Okay, yeah, it's more control than anything else, but he does enjoy it. A glass of red wine in his hand (paired to tonight only because he likes the taste), steam in his face, the slow bubble of sauce in the pan. Little things. ]
There's cold beers in the fridge, or if you're up for something harder you can check in the cabinet.
[ The nice thing about Thai is it's mostly in the sauce. Everything else can be kept warm (and is, in the oven, a mess of noodles and chicken and shredded vegetables) however long and it's practically forgotten as the sauce thickens and absorbs another helping of sriracha and ginger. ]