Christine follows him up the stairs, excited to see what's beyond them.
"Yeah, my Meemaw had one," she replies, memories of baking with her grandmother coming to her straight away. But soon enough her attention is entirely captured by the decor of the rooms before her. It shouldn't come as a surprise, seeing how decked out the basement is, but she finds herself lingering in each room to look at the furniture, walls, decorations before finally heading into the kitchen.
"Wow," she breathes out as they enter. "It's like a celebrity's kitchen," she says with a laugh. Though when celebrities show off their kitchens it's clear they never really cook in it. Or they hire a cook to do it all.
"Yeah, I know. It's pretty incredible, isn't it?" There's a tone of pride in his voice. This house may belong to his Master, but the kitchen is his domain. Max helped re-design it a year after he moved in.
"Usually, I'd be up here all day every day. Not just the kitchen, but all over. A house this size needs a lot of upkeep. I'm way behind on my chores by now, but Erik thought it was better for me to make sure you weren't alone."
Or... maybe he'd better just focus on the cooking aspect for now. "I hardly ever get take-out. I like to make everything myself, so this kitchen is like my real home. I helped make it and I'm in charge of keeping it up."
Christine wonders why she asks questions that have the potential to upset her with the answers. So he'd usually be up here if it wasn't for him having to babysit the ray of sunshine in the basement. Right. She tries to ignore the feelings of both anger and guilt that crop up.
"Well, let's get on those cinnamon rolls. Let's see if I can preheat the oven, or if it's like a NASA control module."
The fancier the oven, the more likely it has weird controls. This is just something she assumes about all of them.
He wouldn't have said it if he thought she'd feel bad. It's true, her arrival was a disruption in his routine. But he considers it a good one. It's just chores. Dusting, vacuuming, all of that can wait. He'd much rather spend the time with her, even on her less than sunny days.
"You got it. I'll grab all the ingredients we need and get the counter set up."
Her comment about the oven catches him off-guard with a bark of laughter. "Heh! They really do make them overly complicated, don't they? Maybe they think people won't feel like they got their money's worth otherwise."
She's not wrong about the weird controls. There's a dozen different buttons on this thing. Luckily, the bake settings are mostly intuitive. It probably helps that those buttons are noticeably well-worn from repeated use. Max wasn't kidding about how often he's up here.
"Okay." He's the one who's familiar with the layout and where everything is kept so she stays out of the way. Christine thinks of her own kitchen in her apartment and how it was nothing compared to this place. That doesn't mean she doesn't have great memories of making meals or desserts in the tiny space. Being a nurse meant often being too exhausted to cook after her shift, or being on call and therefore unable to start cooking in case she had to rush out. So the days she had off were precious to her; filled with food prep, Netflix, and online shopping if she was feeling like blowing some money.
But all that's gone now, isn't it? Or maybe not gone for good. She watches Max grab the ingredients. Maybe just different.
"Do you like to make meals in advance and freeze them?"
If she wants to blow Erik's money shopping online, Max can make that happen for her. And, if he convinces the vampire it's safe enough, they might be able to watch Netflix in the personal theater located on the far side of the manor. Definitely different. Far more extravagant. But He has a popcorn-making machine.
"Hm?" he sounds genuinely surprised with the question. "Not really. I tend to make most things fresh unless it calls for a marinade or the dough needs to rest overnight. I do use a slow cooker sometimes. That's especially good for roasts or meats. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, just curious." She shrugs a shoulder before walking around the space to examine everything. "I used to do it when I had time off. That way I wasn't ordering out all the time on my busy days. I just had something I could heat up at home."
"Oh, yeah. I can see that being a big help. I'm sure shifts could get pretty long for you, huh?"
Max, despite it all, does feel pretty spoiled by his current work-life situation. Sure, he's expected clean house and keep order, but he's mostly his own taskmaster and manager so if he wants a break, or to spend an hour in the kitchen mid-day making lunch, no one really stops him. So long as he finishes his assignments, it's smooth sailing.
"What would you say your easiest prep meals were? Maybe we can start doing those on the weekend, since that's when I sometimes end up skipping a meal because I'm too tired." And he's usually too tired because he's just been fed on by Erik. Which isn't exactly the healthiest outcome for things.
"Sure are. Or, they were." There's no getting around the uncomfortable fact that she doesn't have that job anymore. But hey, he's talking about food and that's something she can turn her mind to.
"Pasta salads were pretty easy. You can use penne, rotini, bowties and mix in cheese, tomatoes, bacon. Stuff like that." She's curious as to why he's too tired, but she resists asking.
They were. Max feels the heavy weight of those words in his chest. If he could change that for her, put it back to rights, he would. Even if that means going back to being alone.
"I do love a good pasta salad. Are you an oil base or mayo base kind of girl?"
She will have to find out the truth sooner or later, but a part of him wants to hold it off as long as possible. She's still warming up to all of this.
"Oh, mayo all the way." It's easy to slip back into food talk as opposed to talk of her circumstances. She rattles off the ingredients she puts in hers, and it's pretty standard fare. With her busy work schedule she really hadn't had much time for experimentation in the kitchen. It was mainly following others' recipes to the letter.
"Anyway," she adds after a lull in the conversation. "These cinnamon rolls aren't gonna make themselves."
"I tend toward oil and vinegar myself but I like both."
Food. Food is a safe topic. Luckily, it's one he likes a lot. He'll routinely fall back on that when things start to get too tense otherwise.
"I've got most of those things already in stock around here, so that sounds like a good lunch project. But, you're right. We're getting ahead of ourselves. Let's get those rolls rolling." Hope she likes bad puns, he likes those a lot too.
He moves like a dancer through the kitchen, grabbing utensils and ingredients without even having to look. Everything is exactly where he puts it, so he can have confidence in his every move. And as he starts on the recipe, he goes about it in a way that belies that he would have been a good teacher in another life. He explains his motions, invites her to join-in on certain steps, instructs her in how to use the mixer without it sounding condescending. It's all so natural, he almost forgets he's been doing this alone for years. The time seems to melt away like butter in a hot pan. Soon enough, they will have their rolls ready to bake in a deep cast iron skillet.
"Would you like to do the honors of putting them in?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-15 04:30 pm (UTC)"Yeah, my Meemaw had one," she replies, memories of baking with her grandmother coming to her straight away. But soon enough her attention is entirely captured by the decor of the rooms before her. It shouldn't come as a surprise, seeing how decked out the basement is, but she finds herself lingering in each room to look at the furniture, walls, decorations before finally heading into the kitchen.
"Wow," she breathes out as they enter. "It's like a celebrity's kitchen," she says with a laugh. Though when celebrities show off their kitchens it's clear they never really cook in it. Or they hire a cook to do it all.
"How often do you come up here?"
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-17 07:04 pm (UTC)"Usually, I'd be up here all day every day. Not just the kitchen, but all over. A house this size needs a lot of upkeep. I'm way behind on my chores by now, but Erik thought it was better for me to make sure you weren't alone."
Or... maybe he'd better just focus on the cooking aspect for now. "I hardly ever get take-out. I like to make everything myself, so this kitchen is like my real home. I helped make it and I'm in charge of keeping it up."
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-18 05:58 pm (UTC)"Well, let's get on those cinnamon rolls. Let's see if I can preheat the oven, or if it's like a NASA control module."
The fancier the oven, the more likely it has weird controls. This is just something she assumes about all of them.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-21 05:38 pm (UTC)"You got it. I'll grab all the ingredients we need and get the counter set up."
Her comment about the oven catches him off-guard with a bark of laughter. "Heh! They really do make them overly complicated, don't they? Maybe they think people won't feel like they got their money's worth otherwise."
She's not wrong about the weird controls. There's a dozen different buttons on this thing. Luckily, the bake settings are mostly intuitive. It probably helps that those buttons are noticeably well-worn from repeated use. Max wasn't kidding about how often he's up here.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-29 12:56 am (UTC)But all that's gone now, isn't it? Or maybe not gone for good. She watches Max grab the ingredients. Maybe just different.
"Do you like to make meals in advance and freeze them?"
(no subject)
Date: 2021-06-02 02:12 am (UTC)"Hm?" he sounds genuinely surprised with the question. "Not really. I tend to make most things fresh unless it calls for a marinade or the dough needs to rest overnight. I do use a slow cooker sometimes. That's especially good for roasts or meats. Why do you ask?"
(no subject)
Date: 2021-06-05 10:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-06-11 05:26 pm (UTC)Max, despite it all, does feel pretty spoiled by his current work-life situation. Sure, he's expected clean house and keep order, but he's mostly his own taskmaster and manager so if he wants a break, or to spend an hour in the kitchen mid-day making lunch, no one really stops him. So long as he finishes his assignments, it's smooth sailing.
"What would you say your easiest prep meals were? Maybe we can start doing those on the weekend, since that's when I sometimes end up skipping a meal because I'm too tired." And he's usually too tired because he's just been fed on by Erik. Which isn't exactly the healthiest outcome for things.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-06-16 12:25 am (UTC)"Pasta salads were pretty easy. You can use penne, rotini, bowties and mix in cheese, tomatoes, bacon. Stuff like that." She's curious as to why he's too tired, but she resists asking.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-06-22 05:08 pm (UTC)"I do love a good pasta salad. Are you an oil base or mayo base kind of girl?"
She will have to find out the truth sooner or later, but a part of him wants to hold it off as long as possible. She's still warming up to all of this.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-06-29 07:36 pm (UTC)"Anyway," she adds after a lull in the conversation. "These cinnamon rolls aren't gonna make themselves."
(no subject)
Date: 2021-07-07 02:09 pm (UTC)Food. Food is a safe topic. Luckily, it's one he likes a lot. He'll routinely fall back on that when things start to get too tense otherwise.
"I've got most of those things already in stock around here, so that sounds like a good lunch project. But, you're right. We're getting ahead of ourselves. Let's get those rolls rolling." Hope she likes bad puns, he likes those a lot too.
He moves like a dancer through the kitchen, grabbing utensils and ingredients without even having to look. Everything is exactly where he puts it, so he can have confidence in his every move. And as he starts on the recipe, he goes about it in a way that belies that he would have been a good teacher in another life. He explains his motions, invites her to join-in on certain steps, instructs her in how to use the mixer without it sounding condescending. It's all so natural, he almost forgets he's been doing this alone for years. The time seems to melt away like butter in a hot pan. Soon enough, they will have their rolls ready to bake in a deep cast iron skillet.
"Would you like to do the honors of putting them in?"