That's right, laugh it up. Revel in my incompetence. [She slaps out the flames with a towel, then drops the scorched brick of a grilled cheese onto a plate with a heavy sigh.]
Crap! [She quickly grabs the towel, dropping it into the sink. Scowling, she turns the burner off, then runs water to rinse out the towel.] This is why I live on take out.
I think I must have a part missing, or something. [She tries to give a dramatic sigh, but the air is thick with the smell of burned cheese and she coughs on it.] I'm a hopeless case.
I'm not going to disagree. [He takes the plate from under her fork and slides the once-food into the trash.] Let's go out to eat before we die of smoke inhalation.
Good idea. Burnt cheese is not a nice smell. [She wrinkles her nose at him, but smiles a little, too, grabbing her bag.] There's an all-night Thai place two blocks away... [She searches her mental map of the neighborhood for other options as she leads them out of the apartment and into the hallway.]
Dilemma solved, then. [She takes his hand when they hit the street, like it's becoming an automatic gesture, not given a second thought.] I took one of those classes in high school - it would've been home ec and girls-only in the 60s, but instead it was called 'life skills' or something stupid like that. Anyway, I got kicked out by the second week. They had a three-strikes policy on setting off the fire alarms.
[Arthur notices how easily she does it but doesn't comment or look. Maybe that's his own concession.] I didn't know it was legal to kick students out of classes for a lack of talent, though maybe it was because you were probably labeled a hazard.
I was a danger to myself and the other students, yep. And I think the fire department was threatening them with fines the next time they had to show up at the school because I burned macaroni and cheese.
I mean, my mom doesn't cook often, but that's because she has a tendency to put something in the oven and forget about it. So, I don't know.
I'm guessing you inherited your amazing skills from your mother, then. I mean, honestly, it takes a lot of talent to do what you did to that poor grilled cheese.
What else are you supposed to make grilled cheese with? Muenster?
Now, that's not fair. You have to provide detailed examples. I know you know all about my parents. [She's not stupid, she knows he would've done a background check on her, aside from everything she's told him.
But then they're at the Thai place, a dinky little restaurant that's practically deserted at this time of night. Ariadne ducks inside, pulling Arthur along with her.]
Real cheese. You know. Something that doesn't come wrapped in induvidual celophane packets.
[He doesn't mind the empty tables or the bad tablecloths because the place smells good. Arthur sits before answering her question.] My dad's good at the basics. Fast, simple food. My mom--my mom always added the little things that made it taste good.
Hey, some of us have had to live on tight budgets.
So... down-to-earth, practical. And a little fanciful? [She grins at him. It sounds just about right. The smell of the restaurant - heavily spiced - makes her stomach growl loudly. She'll be ordering a great big platter of food.]
[Ariadne orders the same, because no one should ever drink alone unless they want to, she supposes.] Tell me more about them. You said your dad was army, right?
Oh, I'm sorry. [Her brow furrows a little.] I would've liked to meet her. [Another important person in Arthur's life that she'd never get to meet. No wonder the guy kept himself so closed off.] Is your dad back in the States?
[And yet she's sure it changed him forever - how could it not?] Do you - [Their waiter finally comes back with the wine, and Ariadne's demeanor changes - she orders cheerily in her accented French, probably enough food to last her three or four days.]
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I mean, my mom doesn't cook often, but that's because she has a tendency to put something in the oven and forget about it. So, I don't know.
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So did you get your charm from your mother, or your father?
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And I guess... both.
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Now, that's not fair. You have to provide detailed examples. I know you know all about my parents. [She's not stupid, she knows he would've done a background check on her, aside from everything she's told him.
But then they're at the Thai place, a dinky little restaurant that's practically deserted at this time of night. Ariadne ducks inside, pulling Arthur along with her.]
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[He doesn't mind the empty tables or the bad tablecloths because the place smells good. Arthur sits before answering her question.] My dad's good at the basics. Fast, simple food. My mom--my mom always added the little things that made it taste good.
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So... down-to-earth, practical. And a little fanciful? [She grins at him. It sounds just about right. The smell of the restaurant - heavily spiced - makes her stomach growl loudly. She'll be ordering a great big platter of food.]
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Something like that. [He smiles, quietly, and orders a wine when the waiter comes around.
Fanciful was actually a good way to describe his mother.]
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