Amy (
kitchen_maid) wrote2006-01-27 12:37 am
Keep Meg & Amy From Cooking Party
There are streamers over the door and glitter is flung generously (if randomly) about over countertops. (To be on the safe side, the girls have used edible glitter, like that on the cookies they handed out as invitations.)
There are large signs posted above the stoves and ovens with picture of Meg and Amy and the words "NOT ALLOWED" in large and bright red letters below them.
It can only mean one thing.
There's a party in the kitchen, and someone has got to keep these girls from cooking.
There are large signs posted above the stoves and ovens with picture of Meg and Amy and the words "NOT ALLOWED" in large and bright red letters below them.
It can only mean one thing.
There's a party in the kitchen, and someone has got to keep these girls from cooking.

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(Hey, you never know.)
Every so often, she'll pick up the bag of flour and heft it, thoughtfully, just to make sure people get the right idea of what they're supposed to be doing.*
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Boromir surveys them. He crosses his arms.
"Neither of you are Gil," he observes.
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"Meg?" On the table. In the kitchen.
[OOC: I couldn't stay away. :D]
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"Are you sure you should be holding that, Meg?" says Bran Davies.
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It's an apron. It's pale purple. It has toe shoes on it.
Of course.
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*Andrew's already tying on a red apron that reads WHEN THE GM SMILES, IT'S ALREADY TOO LATE in bright yellow block letters.*
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(Hey, you never know who else might be there . . .)
At any rate, here she is.
"Hello. I'm Trina Echolls, of course."
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Greet Amy
Or, you know, just get into the spirit of things.
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Eyeing both of them.
At the same time.
...it takes years of practice eyeing younger knights. Also people who might attack you. Anyway, he does it.
"...you two are crazy."
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And promptly feared.
But he is Mal! Spitting in the face of fear! Or glittering the face of fear, as spit is not good in a kitchen.
Wow, Mal is cracked in my head right now. Say hi to Amy, Mal.
"Hi, Amy," Mal says, very obediantly. "Any damage yet?"
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"Hullo," she says. "Is anything wrong? It's awfully noisy back here, for a morning."
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Bran Davies seems rather bemused by the selection of aprons. "A good thing it is that I am wearing sunglasses."
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"Aprons? I certainly hope there won't be blacksmithing here."
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"Hullo, Amy."
He eyes the aprons.
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Ingredients and Cooking
Come over, cook something, or just watch (and talk to) your fellow guests as they do so.
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*posts and goes away with a poof*
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Food
If you've cooked or baked anything of any degree of edibility, this is the place to leave it.
And, if you're feeling brave, this is the place to try your fellow guests' creations.
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Messages for Bar
A sign has been carefully lettered (if badly spelled).
Please Take a Momment to Leave a Mesage for Bar, to Thank Her For Every Thing She Does. The Cookys Will Be Deleivered to Her After the Party. Thank You. -- Meg & Amy
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Bar, Thank you very much for everything, espeshully the Book, which has been our inspearashun. You are just a dear. Love and kisses, Amy
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"Bloody buggering hell, what's goin on in here?" he demanded. Everard squeaked and waved his paws towards the bar.
Gil sighed. "I suppose a memo was out of the question. Ah well, as long as they don't get in the way while we're trying to fill the other orders, let them have their fun."
He grinned - like everyone else he was prepared to bend a lot of rules for Meg Giry, even Health and Safety ones - and went to make himself some tea.
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Threading through the throng, he made his way towards where he thought he'd seen horns.
"Gil," he said when he reached the place and there was, indeed, the faun he wanted to see, "is this an invasion?"
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Instead, he found the kitchen full of people he didn't normally see there, and craned his neck to see if there were any horns in evidence. Because he was rather short (and Gil wasn't exactly tall, either), this was slightly difficult.
So, here was one somewhat bewildered and somewhat violet deity, standing by the door and staring about.
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