t f l n o v e r f l o w.

[chardismastic]

( x )

Comments

[viraasat]

[She's mildly concerned this is going to be some swanky dinner at some swanky place where it isn't kosher for her to get completely pissed and have a good time, but at least the food will probably be worth it.]

looking forward to it.

[Chloe wraps up work days with a quick report in, but Rafe's wording lingers oddly and when she lets herself into his flat several hours later she sees no indication of Going Out: no dinner jackets hanging near the door, the various car keys all safely tucked away in their box.]

Hey.

[She calls to no one in particular, seeing an empty hall and distinct lack of tenant.]

[chardismastic]

[ 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. ]

[viraasat]

Without a hitch.

[She quips, shaking off her jacket and hanging it up on the hall rack like a good little girl. Chloe does genuinely enjoy surprises - it doesn't mean she can't still be completely bowled over by them, and like them despite the shock - but walking into what smells like (and she's making assumptions here) Gordon Ramsay's kitchen isn't exactly on the list of possible expectations.

She anticipated dinner reservations. Not dinner-as-made-by-the-master-of-the-house.]

...Jesus Christ.

[Chloe doesn't know where to start: the apron, the pans, the glass of wine just now set on the granite counter top - sensible fellow, marble stains. It smells like a Thai noodle cart in here and the nostalgia is suffocating.

Wandering around the island so retrieves a bottle of something dark from the aforementioned cabinet, examining the label before pouring herself a glass of whisky. Chloe sips slowly, leaning up against the counter and admiring the view.]

Didn't know you were an amateur chef.

[chardismastic]

[ Just the answer he expects, setting aside the grater and a lump of ginger root. Chloe bills herself as the best driver in the business and she is, but so much more besides. A jack of all trades and master of more than a few of them— The more she demonstrates as such, the more Rafe wonders why the hell he's never hired her on before. Ah, well — problem's since been rectified. ]

Be a little pathetic otherwise, don't you think? [ Scoffing at her surprise, he moves the sauce off the heat before damping the flame. ] A grown man who can't feed himself, with a fridge full of stale takeout containers... Talk about your sad cliche.

[ The other cliche, the one of a butler with a snooty accent serving silver and tea, isn't worth mentioning. So he doesn't.

In less time than it takes to tell, he pulls the noodle mixture out the oven, already fragrant with sesame oil before pouring the thicker sauce over it. The apron proves unnecessary given the precision involved — not a drop spilled, thank you — as he begins to toss the bowl for an even coat. A last handful of chopped peanuts and cilantro and it's done. Plates are grabbed and he sets himself on a stool at the island, an expansive gesture at the bowl for Chloe to help herself. The kitchen is still warm but that'll dissipate soon enough, and the table proper isn't far enough away that it'd make any difference. ]

There's silverware in the drawer, or chopsticks if you're feeling traditional.

[viraasat]

[Chloe snorts. A grown man with a fridge full of takeout containers reminds her viscerally of Nathan Drake, who couldn't cook to save his life but did know all the best street vendors to buy and/or steal from, should the occasion arise. It's a little difficult to imagine that someone as profoundly busy as Rafe Adler has had an abundance of time to dedicate to this particular craft, but she's more than happy to be proven wrong.

She didn't quite realise how hungry she was until he started assembling the goods, either, watching him work with clean, calculated movements in front of the stove, the counter.]

I think noodle cart owners everywhere would curse me if I didn't defer to their rules.

[She observes wryly, sliding over to the dishes and serving herself a healthy portion of the stuff. It smells fucking amazing, and she knocks back the rest of her drink before retrieving a set of chopsticks and seating herself at the kitchen island, intent on tucking in.]

When I said I liked surprises I didn't think you'd be making dinner yourself.

[chardismastic]

[ 404 — memory not found. ]

Don't worry, I wouldn't rat you out to the street cart mafia.

[ Not that there is such a thing. Probably. Totally joking. Don't worry about it.

Rafe takes a moment to appreciate the tawny skin of her throat as she finishes off the liquor, grabbing his own utensils without glancing away. Not quite ogling, but not exactly subtle either. Why bother? Chloe's attractive, he has eyes. Might as well ask someone to demur when visiting an art exhibit. Once he fills his own plate, he hums under his breath in amusement. ]

Oh, the where was never meant to be the surprise, just the what. I figure if I've got access to a kitchen then it'd be a waste not to use it, right? Plus I'm not exactly a fan of paying triple digits for Manhattan serving sizes.

[ Paying for quality? You'll get no argument from him. But just because a guy has money to burn is no reason to shell it out for the so-called "privilege" of atmosphere and dining amongst The Right People. No, Rafe can find a much bigger bang for his buck in his own house — and in this particular instance, more palatable company. Never mind that it proves a worthwhile use of free time, which does crop up in spite of how hard Rafe works to avoid it. Red tape snarls, bureaucratic shuffles, international scheduling, to say nothing of lawyers at any given stage of the game... Even outside of his day job, no matter how carefully laid the plan the execution rarely lives up to expectation. Especially when it's dependent on other people. ]

But I'm getting away from what's important. [ A perfectly benign smile after he finishes this next bite. ] The real question here is, is it hot enough for you?