try_corsets | (no subject)

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A pirate steals into the kitchen, stops in the shadows and looks around.

The Milliways kitchens are never fully asleep, but when it's so late it's actually early one can sneak in relatively undetected and snoop around. The refrigerators are large and fully-stocked, the aromas as appealing as during the busiest dinner hour. All a pirate has to do is ignore the rats and the rest is a veritable feast for the taking.

This particular pirate isn't after rum and something edible to chase it with, however.

Captain Elizabeth Turner, Pirate King and soon to be mother, simply wants some milk to ease the persistent burning sensation near her heart. It is one of many indignities she's been forced to endure lately, and she's not about to sit around and suffer on the Empress when relief can be had here.

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"I try." His grin is shameless.

"Raph? Dunno. Either or, really. Kind of depends on how much of a fight they put up I imagine. That's something you could talk to him about, if you wanted."

Elizabeth nods.

"I do want."

She makes her way across the kitchen, investigating various food products along the way. An ostrich egg is subjected to extra scrutiny.

"When will you," and she pauses, searching for the best way to ask, "give birth?"

Edited 2010-01-01 22:28 (UTC)

"Bring some Sam, possibly some Jack. Things will go over like butter."

Again, shameless grin. The steak sizzles when turned, an even sear sealing in the juices.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he says with a shrug. "Don't think anyone really knows, to be honest."

After a moment's pause.

"Maybe Bar does."

"I don't know a Sam."

And the likelihood that Jack would follow her anywhere is slim indeed.

"You sound as well prepared as I am," she says.

He's not chuckling at her, he swears.
"Sam Adams. It's a kind of beer. His favorite brand." And then just to be safe, he adds, "And Jack Daniels is his favorite whiskey."

Mike makes a cut in the steak and watches for clear juices to run.
"Well...it's not like I've ever done this before. Guess we're on this adventure together, huh?"

That... makes a lot more sense. Understanding lights her face -- the face that is peering over his shoulder as he works.

"I'll need to see about finding it some clothes," she states, wearing a pinched look.

Elizabeth isn't a fool. She knows this baby will change things, and that she'll do what's necessary to keep it well and happy. For now, however, she's clinging to the way things are with everything she has and only seems pleased with the idea of motherhood when Will is around.

Which he's usually not.

Pleased with the overall doneness of the steak, Mike moves it to a plate to rest. This frees up his hands for the collection of the veggies and starch.

"How're you with a needle?"

Because Mike? Is kind of awesome at sewing, if he does say so himself.

"Unless you mean that in any sort of practical sense," she says, "I'm passable."

Beat.

"Though I can stitch sailcloth, of course."

Is he suggesting she make clothes?

He...miiiight be? Would that be wrong.

"Of course, but...can't really swaddle a baby in sailcloth....er, can you?"

Yes. Elizabeth can think of no surer way to lose her crew than to spend her time making tiny shirts for a baby they theoretically don't know about, rather than acting as a proper captain.

She laughs.

"I think it's more a matter of shouldn't."

He stops midway through scooping an additional spoonful of potatoes onto Elizabeth's plate.

"Yeeeaaah, it'd probably look bad if like, there were little tiny shirts just...you know, cut out of the main sail, wouldn't it? Hmmm."

He continues to scoop. First the potatoes, then the freshly strained beans.

"Thanks Skippy," he says to the waitrat. "OH! Oh I've totally got it! Baby shower!"

Especially the type of sails the Empress uses.

"A baby what?"

Just when she thinks it's safe to relax...

"Baby shower," he repeats. "It's like...a party where people give you stuff to help with the baby. Then there's games and cake."

Still struggling with the term 'shower,' Elizabeth eyes Mike.

"People... give you things?" Beat. "Voluntarily?"

The cake sounds quite nice, however.

"Only if you're there."

She will not participate alone.

"And miss out on the only baby shower I'll ever truly be qualified to go to? Wild horses couldn't tear me away."

Mike takes the plate, and brings it back over to the resting steak.

"You really don't think to highly of people, do you?"

She starts to say something, then swallows it.

Hard.

"You're mistaken," she says, even though he's not, not really. "I'm a pirate. In order to survive, a pirate learns quickly to look for ulterior motives."

Up go his eyebrows. "And here I thought it was pirates who dealt in ulterior motives."

The fillet is, itself, filleted. Silverware is accumulated and a placemat is set up.

"It's okay, I'm not offended."

There's a giant glass of milk to be fetched.

"Precisely."

Elizabeth just smiles.

"Good Lord, that smells delicious," slips out moments later.

"Not everyone's a pirate," he says simply.

Taaa daaa! Crisp and bright green beans. Creamy mashed potatoes, with extra cream. And...well, then there's the steak. Mike doesn't supply her with a knife, because there's just no need.

"Well, I do aim to please."

"Yes, but when you are king of them and must..."

Whatever argument she'd been about to make is lost when she gets a glimpse of her finished plate. She makes a face like a fish for a few moments, then turns and says, very primly, "Thank you."

The food starts to disappear at a rapid rate, though for a pirate Elizabeth really has excellent table manners.

"Very well. Tell me more about baby showers."

Mike can talk. Her mouth is going to be busy for a while.

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