10049/Scents of home.

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Scents of home.
Date of Scene: 15 November 2019
Location: Kitchen - Xavier's School
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Dragonfly (Armenteros), Gambit




Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Dinner had come and gone.

The chefs, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that some kind of heavy casserole was perfect for dinner and Gwendolyn, being a cook herself, graciously bowed out, wanting something a little less heavy and a little more like home. An order had been placed with the local fishmonger and, waiting for her, wrapped in paper, were three packages - two pounds of peeled, deveined shrimp, two pounds of pork belly, and fresh oysters, ready for the fryer.

Gwendolyn was dressed comfortably in thick slipper socks, soft pants, and a loose shirt and, judging from the way she moved around the kitchen, sliding in her slippers, she knew what she was doing. The oil is to temperature and the first few shrimp are carefully tossed into the oil to begin their journey towards crunchy outside and perfectly cooked inside.

Gambit has posed:
They say that scent is the sense that is most tied to memory. So it wasn't just the heavenly aroma that drew Gambit to the kitchen. It was the memory of of hot summer nights in the Bayou, church picnics, and family. He leans agienst the doorframe and smiles. "Now dat does smell jus' a lil bit like 'eaven." He says with mild amusment in his tone.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Gwendolyn glances over from her spot in front of the stove. She's young - probably not more than seventeen or so - and is wearing a visor that looks remarkably like one that Scott would be seen wearing around. There must be a reason for it. "I just couldn't eat the stuff they served tonight, Bon-ami." Her accent shifts from middle of the road American to one that's more southern Louisiana-ish. "My po'boys bring ever'one off'n th' bayou f'r a bite. Get on in heah. I don' mind sharin' with a cajun boy."

Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau grins a little bit, "well if de lady gonna invite a Swamprat ta 'er table, who am Ah ta judge." Of course Remy is not wearing his sunglasses to disguise his own eye mutation. He leans agienst the counter and offers his hand "Yah mus' be Gwen. Yah reputation 'as preceeded yah by leaps an' bounds.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Aw hush now. My reputation ain't gone outside these four walls since I got here. But yes." The shrimp are bobbing in the oil and Gwendolyn uses a metal dipper to get them out, placing them on to a tray to drip dry and crisp up while she does the next batch, dusting the cornflower off on her apron. "I'm Gwendolyn Almenteros. Ah'm guessin' you be Mister Remy LeBeau? Heard some folk mention you in passin' when I started speakin' Creole."

Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau smirks just a little bit, dropping into the language himself. "Well it always nice ta at least 'ave someone to talk to proper, non?" he asks with a grin. "How yah settleing in if yah don' mind mah asking? Findin' everyt'ing yah need?"

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The second batch of shrimp come out to join the first, golden and crispy. "I've tried to teach a few phrases, heah an' dere, to some of the girls I pal around with. Angel girl uses a german accent to try some of the words, and that's as bitter as dark roux to me." She smiles over at him, dropping in the oysters, one at a time. "Good t' speak somethin' that finally sounds right. Seems this school attracts all sorts."

Giving the oysters a stir, Gwendolyn heads over to the oven to pull out a french loaf that's almost three times too big. Apparently she was cooking for a group or getting lunch ready for the next day with enough to share with someone lucky enough to wander by. Looks like Remy's the lucky sort today. "I'm...I'm doing good." She says, slicing the bread into equal-length chunks that are then cut almost all the way through lengthwise, hinging open at the back, ready to accept their po'boy goodness. "Th' Professor an' the teachers have been good, an' it's nice bein' able to go around an' not be looked at like a freak." She taps her goggles. "I c'n see you know what ah'm talkin' 'bout."

Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau nods slightly, "Mah eyes been like dis since Ah was a pup. Knew Ah was a mutant close ta ten years foh Ah nearly blew up mah bed wit' me in it," He says amused. "Usually Ah come up 'ere every week or so ta make a big batch of Gumbo an' cornbread. Can' see 'ow it is dat we kept missing each ot'er." He takes out a deck of cards and shuffles them casually. "So what part of Nawlins yah call yah stompin' grounds chere?" his fingers flicking over the cards in an irregular patern that none the less has the cards dancing.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The oysters don't take nearly as long as the shrimp, Gwendolyn scooping them out to drain as well. Lettuce and hot sauce and some homemade remoluade are set aside, as are a few sliced tomatoes. "Northern part of Plaquemines parish, just south of Delacroix on th' bayous. Swamp girl, more're less." She watches the cards being manipulated intricately but doesn't seem to recognize it for anything more than a talented way to shuffle cards. "So dat was your gumbo in de fridge. You did mighty with your roux. Momma taught you good."

Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau head shakes a bit, "Nevah knew mah mamma. Not really. Mah only memory of 'er was 'er abandoning me in a bus station when Ah was about fou'. Man Ah call mah pappa, his 'ouse keeper taught me 'ow ta cook as a way ta keep me outta trouble."

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
It seems that being abandoned is a common thing around here. Gwendolyn frowns, her head dipping slightly for a moment or two before it passes and she's back to working on the sandwiches. Six shrimp go on one of the buns, along with two oysters. This is followed by a handful of shredded lettuce, a smear of remoulade on the top bun, and the whole thing is closed over and pressed down. Only thing that would make it better would be the tissue paper and red plastic basket that it's normally served in back home.

"Dinner is served, Mister Remy." She offers him the basket with a smile and a curtsy. "If'n you're anythin' like me, stayin' out of trouble ain't somethin' you managed very well, was it?"