17.Jun.12, 02:25 AM
The greenrider was confused; why did D'ren and Tsuen keep putting him on the kitchen roster? Obviously, they were suckers for punishment, or on a self imposed diet that worked better when their food came to them burned... Of course, that would actually work better if the kitchen staff hadn't very quickly come to realise that the greenrider (and many of his brethren) were about as much help in the cooking corners as a firelizard leading a wing. An incredible hindrance, and completely beyond teaching, B'jin had been shelved as 'Health Hazard' and told to do nothing above or beyond vegetable peeling. B'jin, deciding peeling vegetables was boring had his feet kicked up on top of a wine barrel and was watching the goings on around him with amusement as he nibbled on a cinnamon roll.
Whatever the reason behind putting him in the Kitchen, B'jin wasn't really going to complain. Two months of sitting around doing nothing sounded good to him, and the best pickings came from right where he was sitting. Of course, B'jin wasn't the type to wheedle things out of the kitchen staff with promises or his body, but he was more than willing to exchange his voice for food (or drink) and more than a few of the other workers were paid in artwork. B'jin might not be the most amazing word smith in the field of Harpers, but he had spent several turns learning to get what he wanted, from whom he wanted, when he wanted it. Bartering for his food had always been at the top of the list.
Thieving a slice of hot wherry as a serving tray wandered past, B'jin set his cinnamon roll on his knee and pulled strips off the slice, following the grain of the meat as he then nibbled on those pieces. He held it carefully off to the side. As lovely as juicy wherry was, he'd prefer not to ruin his clothing with drips! Humming to himself contentedly as he watched the group of women gossiping over a heap of steaming pots, B'jin finished his slice of meat and licked his fingers delicately, eyes sparkling as one of the younger women threw a hand towel at him. Tossing her a laughing wink, B'jin caught the towel, dropped it in his lap, and snatched the new cinnamon roll out of the air when she tossed that his way too.
Why did people bitch about kitchen working, again?
Whatever the reason behind putting him in the Kitchen, B'jin wasn't really going to complain. Two months of sitting around doing nothing sounded good to him, and the best pickings came from right where he was sitting. Of course, B'jin wasn't the type to wheedle things out of the kitchen staff with promises or his body, but he was more than willing to exchange his voice for food (or drink) and more than a few of the other workers were paid in artwork. B'jin might not be the most amazing word smith in the field of Harpers, but he had spent several turns learning to get what he wanted, from whom he wanted, when he wanted it. Bartering for his food had always been at the top of the list.
Thieving a slice of hot wherry as a serving tray wandered past, B'jin set his cinnamon roll on his knee and pulled strips off the slice, following the grain of the meat as he then nibbled on those pieces. He held it carefully off to the side. As lovely as juicy wherry was, he'd prefer not to ruin his clothing with drips! Humming to himself contentedly as he watched the group of women gossiping over a heap of steaming pots, B'jin finished his slice of meat and licked his fingers delicately, eyes sparkling as one of the younger women threw a hand towel at him. Tossing her a laughing wink, B'jin caught the towel, dropped it in his lap, and snatched the new cinnamon roll out of the air when she tossed that his way too.
Why did people bitch about kitchen working, again?