08.Jun.13, 12:06 PM
M'din smiled at the young blonde, earnestly hoping the kitchen staff wouldn't be asking them to cook. Though his eldest son, Mariltin, was an exquisite (if unofficially trained) chef, M'din shared none of his talents and would likely set his beard aflame again if he was forced to work near a stove. "Maybe we'll be lucky and just have cleaning jobs today," the brownrider chortled. "I'm not the tidiest guy in the world, but I can wipe tables down better than I can cook. Actually, all of my kids can prepare food better than I can. Even the little ones." He intentionally forgot to mention the state of disarray his hut was currently in, hoping his cleaning crew (his brood of children) would take pity on their incapable father and put his belongings back in order. After their ministrations, his hut would last about a sevenday before falling to pieces again, and the cycle would begin anew.
Glancing down to his fingers, M'din stumbled out, "Aparicus fell out of a tree a while back, and I caught her- well, mostly she landed on me- but I tried to catch her but broke some fingers... and a rib." He waved the thought away, "They're all healing but it's slow going and I really hope I don't accidentally re-break them." The man introduced himself as Terken, prompting M'din to ask, "Is this nice dog yours? She's very sweet, and I've never seen her in the kitchen before." He scratched the fluffy beast behind the ears, continuing, "My Armath would probably like her. I think he secretly enjoys other animals, you know."
The ladies in the kitchen loudly questioned where their workers had gotten off to, although M'din was certain they'd seen him burst through the door, and he turned to his comrade, "I think you're right. Let's go see what the gals needs." He rounded the corner to the older women- a squat brunette standing beside an oven and a taller gray-haired woman with a stern face and arms akimbo. He approached the severe woman, whose air of authority labeled her as the head kitchenworker, and sincerely said, "Please forgive me, madame. I'm the reason we're late, but I promise we'll do whatever you need in quick order." Her face didn't soften, but she turned away from them muttering about dishes and soap. Pointing a long finger at the largest pile of dirty plates, bowls, and pans that M'din had ever seen, she glared at the rider until he meekly questioned, "I guess that's ours then?" A sharp nod was the only response she gave before gliding out of the kitchen.
Left alone, M'din looked to Terken with a strained grin, "I guess this is better than cooking." He poked his bearded face around a corner, double checking that the head kitchenworker was out of earshot. "She was much friendlier to me this time. Last month she bonked me on the head with a spoon for dropping her meatrolls."
Glancing down to his fingers, M'din stumbled out, "Aparicus fell out of a tree a while back, and I caught her- well, mostly she landed on me- but I tried to catch her but broke some fingers... and a rib." He waved the thought away, "They're all healing but it's slow going and I really hope I don't accidentally re-break them." The man introduced himself as Terken, prompting M'din to ask, "Is this nice dog yours? She's very sweet, and I've never seen her in the kitchen before." He scratched the fluffy beast behind the ears, continuing, "My Armath would probably like her. I think he secretly enjoys other animals, you know."
The ladies in the kitchen loudly questioned where their workers had gotten off to, although M'din was certain they'd seen him burst through the door, and he turned to his comrade, "I think you're right. Let's go see what the gals needs." He rounded the corner to the older women- a squat brunette standing beside an oven and a taller gray-haired woman with a stern face and arms akimbo. He approached the severe woman, whose air of authority labeled her as the head kitchenworker, and sincerely said, "Please forgive me, madame. I'm the reason we're late, but I promise we'll do whatever you need in quick order." Her face didn't soften, but she turned away from them muttering about dishes and soap. Pointing a long finger at the largest pile of dirty plates, bowls, and pans that M'din had ever seen, she glared at the rider until he meekly questioned, "I guess that's ours then?" A sharp nod was the only response she gave before gliding out of the kitchen.
Left alone, M'din looked to Terken with a strained grin, "I guess this is better than cooking." He poked his bearded face around a corner, double checking that the head kitchenworker was out of earshot. "She was much friendlier to me this time. Last month she bonked me on the head with a spoon for dropping her meatrolls."