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Synopsis: it connects with the “Mysterious Sandwich” (somehow) but it doesn’t have strict time chain or other kind of stuff. Just a headcanon. Let’s have a new episode of Black Noir, us and food. (and it's happening in the Tower)
Tags: fluff, cooking, daily sketch, comfort, no nsfw
Warnings: if you protect animals, I wouldn’t recommend to read it. No blood or violence but meat is clearly mentioned. No proof reading, sweethearts!
Words: 1270.
You are glaring at barely defrost chicken. Definitely, if it could, it would be staring back with some judgment. But it can’t and technically it has no eyes since it’s just… chicken breast. It can’t judge you, right? But the memory about Deep staring at the dead octopus served for a party makes you doubt the Nature and your own sanity.
You take a breath and rub the face. You should have thought twice before unfreezing the chicken at least a couple of times and then drop it back into crisper with those sinful thoughts “I’m gonna do it later” a couple of times again. Now you need to fix it or the precious meat will spoil. You could be careless actually since you yearn enough money but it doesn’t settle right… Especially after the very party where you saw countless amount of backed marbling being mercilessly getting into trash bags. Fortunately, one staff managed to take home some.
Why to cook? You can just order fast food and call it a day. No one gives a shit, if you don’t gain weight (and with sup’ metabolism it’s so rare case).
Yet… there is something appealing about cooking just for yourself on your own. Sincere. Not artificial, like the place itself. So why not? It has been a while since you cooked something.
The thought makes you frown but you have better things to mull over.
There is a problem. Since your power isn’t really about physical power (you are still stiff enough for usual bullets, thanks God), the half-frozen chicken now is a significant problem. 9pm + strong food-oriented principles + forgottenness equal this.
The cold bites your fingers far too painfully, the exhaustion linger your limbs and you fail to cut the chicken quickly to sooth your hunger.
‘Damn’ you grumble under the breath, looking at the meat and putting knife away.
Job has absorbed you. You get…
You flinch as you sense the presence. Barely you note the subtle sound of door closing. You snap the head and see the dark figure – Black Noir.
‘…Oh. That’s you.’
Why did he come in the first place? And have you forgotten to lock the door?
You huff half-annoyed and half-startled. That habit of his is irking and it has ruffled your feathers already enough. Unnoticed, faint, quiet, impressive and unsettling. Respected, though, because of this or some other matters.
The man doesn’t immediately move. But after a short pause he raises his hand to point to the direction where the cutting board, knife and chicken are.
‘Oh. Just cooking, got hungry, ya know?’
Black Noir tilts the head.
‘…’
Wrong silence falls between them. You do your best to avoid looking too unsettled. But idea strikes her.
Yes, respected for other matters.
‘Hey, can you lend a hand?’
The sup seems to plan to go but he stops as he hears the question. He tilts his head once again, stronger that time. As if asking what kind of help you need.
‘Like, literally a hand.” You nod at the kitchen, “Could you… cut it for me?’
He seems to process the question before nodding quite stiffly.
‘Then cut it small pieces, like sticks.’
Noir comes closer, taking the knife.
‘…’
Now you are confused as he starts cutting breast with work gloves on. Your eyes widen a little surprised but you decide not to comment since he seems to be okay with it (or you just ignore the questions more than you want nowadays).
He gets it done smoothly, effortlessly and… far too quickly for you to note it in the same space. Here the chicken is, neatly cut, on the board. He turns his head to you for the reaction, holding the knife. The black visor seem to absorb his eyes if you do not look for them exactly.
The cold chill comes along your spine bone.
‘Oh, that was… quick. Thank you!’ you smile a little more puzzled. He nods and goes to wash the knife. You gently check the pieces with fingers – indeed, still not quite unfrosted. You take the tenderizer (mom’s gift) and flatten the pieces. The gentler the meat, better the taste. It doesn’t take too much time – the meat is already soft.
‘Now, eggs and bread crumbs...’ you take the ingredients from the fridge.
As you turn back, Black Noir is gone.
‘…okay, I guess…’
As you prepare the bowls and break the eggs, you again nearly get a heart attack – the ninja reappears, all straight and strict next to you.
No sense of tact and shame!
‘You want the nuggets?’ you mutter clearly teed off now.
He nods.
‘…okay, sure.’
He seems to relax visibly or even happy.
The process seems to resume… weirdly, but not in a bad way. Noir stays nearby and his gaze seems to be glued to the crumbs. Soon he leans closer and points at bowl with them.
‘Hm?’
Then he points at a crumbled brown pack of something in his hand.
‘What is it?’
He lets you take it and open to understand. It seems to be a mix of spices. Red or somewhat brown, yellow there…
You pinch it and taste it.
‘Oh’
It tastes like the fast-food nuggets but… you can’t really put a finger on the right on the brand. Mcdonalds, KFC, the King…?
You smile.
‘Have you burgled a restaurant?’ you joke, half sure – with his shown abilities you can’t be sure for a hundred precents he hasn’t.
He doesn’t really answer with any gesture. Just looks at the bowl with crumbs and the glance linger longer than you add the mix.
Quite soon the nuggets are almost ready, all beautiful and slim with the cover.
‘Okay, now… oven.’
Noir shows the surprise with the oil bottle – he takes it and stares at you.
‘No cholesteric boost for me, sorry. Got a heartburn for oil. But let’s fry some for you then.’
He raises a thumb finger up.
Soon the nuggets get into the oven and into the pun. You are sitting in front of oven’s glass, watching the process as well. Noir is slowly moving them with the spoon, dancing just a bit – he is happy, you understand and smile.
The huge contrast with usual interacts (or lack of those) with Black Noir makes you pause. As well as you think over the job.
‘I will take a couple of yours if you don’t mind.’ You say and the man steals a glance, showing the finger up again.
‘…’
Job has sucked up to its throat that you forgot about the loved things. About everything, actually. Especially about sincerity. That man is, who spooks shit out of many has helped you and now can’t wait for the chicken nuggets with some fast-food spice.
In ten minutes it seems to be ready and you two place the small masterpieces on the dishes.
‘Smell and look fascinating… damn.’ You squeak as you bite into still hot like coal piece. Noir waves sympathetically the hand near you, as if helping to cool the burn.
‘Wow… it’s so delicious! The spice is good.’
He raises his hand for high-five and waits for you to do the five. Some hesitation lingers into the movement, as if embarrassed himself. But you high-five with sincere smile. He is very content himself now.
‘Speaking of the spice, you should share the it’s brand. I’d use it again.’
He pauses. You watches his reaction as he touches his chest for moment and then he nods. A promise of his, even if you are not sure for a hundred precents if he returns...
Something something being the teller at a local convenience store near a military base and falling a little bit in love with the big Scot who is polite with everyone and doesn't respond to your seventeen year old coworker's flirting. In fact, your coworker starts hating him a little bit because he barks at other soldiers for asking for her number. But he always gives her a roguish smile and tells her she can do better than the kind of roaster who sniffs around younger girls because women their age won't give them the time of day. When he winks, she giggles, because she's seventeen and easy. At 32, you don't have the same excuse.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
