Who's been cooking in my kitchen?

Posted on Thu Sep 19th, 2024 @ 17:54 by Valjean Beaumont & Penny Gardner

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Kitchens
Timeline: Late evening, Wednesday, 20th of January, 1993
2203 words - 4.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Penny rubbed the back of her neck with a groan as she entered into the kitchens. She hadn't been here before, had never needed too since their usually excellent meals were often acquired through the cafeteria, but she had lost track of time while lesson planning and missed the dinner hour. She paused in the entrance to the kitchen and blinked, the lights were on but at first glance it seemed no one was home. Well, maybe she would whip up some cheese on toast or something. Just a quick meal to fill the hole gnawing at her stomach before bed. She quickly went about grabbing a plate, chopping board, knife and grill pan. Her tiredness made her hands clumsy enough she clanged the pan down against the counter much louder then intended.

It always took some effort to gather himself after an entire day of duplication and working. Even though it seemed like it was getting easier with practice, and with the small boost he had gotten during the Halloween surge. Valjean sat on a sack of potatoes in the pantry, the door just shy of being fully closed. Catching his breath and trying to sort through his memories, that seemed to be getting jarred now by merging with his duplicates. Something he had hoped would ebb away but was only slowly getting better. He was shaken from his 1000 yard stare at a crate of onions by the clattering of pans. "Quesquecette merde?" He huffed under his breath as he pushed the door aside. "What is the meaning of this?" His fatigue brought out the strongest French accent this side of the Channel.

Penny jumped about a foot in the air as she was surprised. In her shock she dropped the piece of bread she had been buttering, which of course fell face down on the kitchen floor. "Oh shoot." She quickly grabbed a piece of kitchen roll and went about clearing up her mess.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, I thought no one else was here." She has already gone quite pink at someone witnessing her tired state and now with this stranger glaring at her she felt quite flustered. "I missed dinner so just wanted to make some cheese on toast before calling it a day." Then the man's accent seemed to register and she offered him a cautious smile.

"Parlez-vous français?"

"Parlez-vous..? are you kidding me?!" Valjean closed the distance between himself and the interloper in his kitchen. "Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am?" He grabbed the pan she had gotten from the cupboard and pulled it towards himself, looking at the 'mess' she was making of his freshly cleaned kitchen. "You think you can just snub the dinner time because the menu doesn't suit your delicate tastes and then come in 'ere and just go cook for yourself, messing with my pots and pans and supplies?" He stared at the greased stain her dropped bread had made on the floor. "Non!”He then pointed at a stool in the corner of the room. “You sit."

Penny stood and arched an eyebrow at him, her smile stayed on her face but it had a fixed quality that didn’t reach her eyes. “Excuse me? I’m Penny Gardener, as for who you are, I have no idea since you have simply come in here and started yelling, although given the context I would think you are the chef.” And given his highly strung temper.

She then moved to the chair in the corner and sat down with a huff. “And I didn’t snub dinner, the menu would have been perfectly to my tastes. I just lost track of time. It wasn’t some planned insult by the way.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leant back in her chair. “Unlike your reaction, however if it makes you happy to put me in time out then fine, but I was testing the lighting rig all day and used more energy than I realised. I’m either going to need to eat or sleep soon so if you won’t let me make a piece of toast then you probably only have about ten minutes of treating me like a child before I fall asleep.” It was all said with a smile perfectly, infuriatingly calm and friendly tone.

She then snorted, looking away with a roll of her eyes. “Delicate indeed, I have been called many things before but delicate is certainly not one of them.”

Valjean took the dropped bit of toast and tossed it in the trash before grabbing a new bit as well as spring onions, bechamel sauce and some other supplies from the nearby fridge. "You faculty always come in here like you own the place. Like everything revolves around your schedules. There's nearly 120 students that need to eat. There's 30 or so support staff. That's not even taking into account some of our colleagues that eat for ten grown men." Throughout his rant he was starting to create a croque monsieur, with thick slices of cheese and ham, day old bread, and a(n un)healthy helping of butter and bechamel. The sizzle of the skillet on the fire indicated this was about to be serious business.

Having been given ten minutes to prepare the meal he quickly beat an egg into submission and added a very fluffy omlette to the plate right at the time that the croque monsieur was grilled to perfection and put the plate in front of her on the table in the corner. In fine dining establishments it would've been much more dressed, but it was what he considered the Chef's table. Were he not as high strung as he had been, and had he not learned most of his trade in a penitentiary, it would've probably been an honour and a privilege to eat at that particular spot.

"Voila."

Before Penny could make a snarky comment her stomach rumbled. The smell of cheese and ham and fluffy eggs hit her olfactory senses and made her mouth water. "Merci pour le repas." She said and grabbed a fork, cutting into the omelette and eating it. As she did a flush of blue pulsed across her skin and she gave a little moan. "Oh hey, this is great, thank you." This time her thanks were far more genuine and she beamed at him. "I should have known you were great from the highly strung temperament, artists are always a bit touchy. You know if you cook great late night snacks like this, you're hardly going to discourage me from coming around outside of mealtimes."

She gestured to the other side of the table. "Have you eaten Chef?" She used his titles in lieu of his name. "If not I don't mind halving this with you. Come on sit, if you have had all those people to feed you must be tired too." She took cut off a corner of the croque monsieur and then took her first bite, making another happy noise at the taste. "And for what's it is worth, I was trying not to disturb anyone or make a fuss. I would have cleaned up after myself." She then cuts the fancy sandwich in half and pushes half over to the furthest side of the plate, in case he did want to eat.

"That's what everyone says, but come breakfast time I cannot find this spatula or that skillet." Another shake of the head. "I do not come into your classroom and rearrange the crayons." He looked at the offered sharing of the meal and stepped towards the table, grabbing the slice and taking a bite. "Merci. Bon appetite."

“I’m a drama teach Chef, you find crayons in my classroom you are welcome to them.” She smiled softly as he took the offered slice. “Oui d’accord.” She grinned at him and then began to enthusiastically tuck in.

“So are you always this territorial or are you having a rough day?” Penny eyed the chef trying to work out of his unfriendliness was normal or if she had managed to piss him off at a particularly sensitive moment. “I’m just trying to work out if I should be stashing some snacks that don’t require a kitchen for consumption in case I use too much energy again and need to fuel up or if on another day I would have gotten a more favourable response to me making toast? Where did you learn to cook this good anyway?”

"Zhat is a loaded question, non." Valjean narrowed his eyes to the woman who had quite eloquently avoided his jab aimed at the general population of teachers. "You ask, I make. You don't go rummaging around on your own accord." He made a gesture in a general direction, "for rummaging, go to the teacher's lounge." There was a small kitchenette there, and the tiniest of stoves. "My mom taught me appreciation of good food, Chef Dufourmont taught me appreciation of good prep, in Wakefield I learned to appreciate the power of food on large groups confined to small spaces."

Penny snorted and shrugged one shoulder, it was loaded but she didn't seem particularly sorry. She finished off the rest of her food as she listened, eating like someone who had been skipping meals all day. "Okay, next time I'll come find you instead of touching all your skillets." She seemed a touch victorious at that, pleased that a man who could make such a good ham and cheese toastie would offer to cook, even if it was only to stop her messing with his stuff.

She then tilted her head. "Wakefield, why does that sound fami-oh! The prison? Well... at least you are prepared for dealing with multitudes of teens and pre-teens. Which is worse? I bet it's the teachers and kids right?" She gives him a teasing grin, if she was bothered by the fact he had honed his trade in a lock up she didn't show it. Most likely she wasn't all that bothered.

"Weh." He confirmed her suspicions that Avalon was worse than Wakefield, "especially the teachers." He eyed her with a very faint hint of amusement around the corners of his eyes. Something he could cover up by taking another bite of the sandwich. "Though, I'm 'appy for being able to go to my own quarters, or in the yard, or wherever really, when I'm finished. That is unless someone comes in and messes with my kitchen."

Penny snorted, her plate now empty as she leaned back in her chair. “I think I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment, either that or your cooking is so good I don’t mind the insult. Worth it.” She pats her tummy looking like a large and very satisfied cat. “I am sorry by the way. I really didn’t mean to upset you, wasn’t sure about the rules of engagement, but next time I will just ask you, or better yet, make sure I don’t miss dinner. Would you like me to help wash up? You can yell at me for not scrubbing counter clockwise or something if it makes you happy?”

"Très attrayant, suivez-moi" He didn't bother to pick up the plate, instead heading for the stove and gathering the stuff he had used there to take to the sink. "I scrub, you dry, compris?"

"Oui je comprends Chef." Penny grabbed her plate, ferrying it over to the sink and then grabbing a tea towel to dry as he washed. "So do I just keep calling you Chef or are you going to give me your name at some point?" She leaned her hip against the counter as she waited for him to pass her something, still looking more amused than someone should by his general prickliness.

"Valjean Beaumont." He introduced himself as he handed over the first spatula for her to dry. The terseness in his face didn't seem to dissipate much, but he continued to clean and hand her stuff to dry.

Penny by contrast offered a cheeky grin in return. “Valjean Beaumont? Pleasure to meet you. That’s a good name, like something from an old swashbuckling film.” She dries the spatula as thoroughly as she could while not holding up the line. Making sure to place it carefully on the counter when she was done.

"Ou un roman de Victor Hugo." It didn't take long for them to finish cleaning the dishes they had used to prepare a late dinner for the drama teacher. "Voila. Now. Off to bed with you, early days tomorrow, I imagine." He grabbed the towel off her and threw it over his shoulder, his arms folded, as if waiting to make sure that she'd leave.

"Yes Victor Hug-OH!" Penny laughs as the towel is snatched out of her hands. "Yes chef!" She says with a cheeky wink, and then gives him a small wave. "Was nice to meet you, thanks for the sarnie!" Then she ducked out of the kitchen before she could get herself in trouble again.