trans_9 | Let Them Eat Cake -- OPEN Like an Open Thing!

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Current Location: Planet Zokez II, A Hotel Kitchen
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Let Them Eat Cake -- OPEN Like an Open Thing!

Title: Let Them Eat Cake
Location: Zokez II, A Hotel Kitchen

GLaDoS had rightly pissed him off.

Granted, Renne hadn't been harmed but there had been one single annoyance throughout scampering within mazes like a lab rat. There had been a promise of cake and that promise had thus far, gone unfulfilled. In this, Renne had briefly wondered if GLaDoS wasn't perhaps a Human in disguise.

Such a thought was washed away when he thought of a few people he'd met. One of whom, had been created in effigy as a stuffed toy destined to never leave Renne's side.

And so it is, that Renne, the oddity crawls into a rather large building apparently called a "Hotel Resort" and sniffs his way to the kitchen. Chefs, beware. He's not afraid to use The Face on any of you to get what he's after.

[[OOC: Yes, Renne shall be making CAKE and he's not afraid to use all of his powers of cute on people to acquire what he needs to do so. OPEN LIKE AN OPEN THING and if you wanna handle chefs, managers, whatever, go ahead! ]]

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Stephen had left the pickup parked in the hotel alley. Sweet scents wafted his way from the open kitchen door, but he had been attempting to pay that no mind. Eat later. Science NOW! There were about six former oven or cake racks that had been left out in the alley for the trash man, and now? They were being appropriated for a brand new life in Stephen's lab on Stacy.

Hysterical voices, however, have a certain timbre and tone that Stephen was overtly familiar with. He'd heard it often enough in the teacher's lounge at the school he'd taught at. It made him poke his head in, brows arched over the goggles he still wore. Helloooo information overload! At that he slid them up on to his forehead, squinting at the light change.

Immediately, he was assaulted by the love child of the Swedish Chef and someone who simply adored yellow. The male (at least Stephen assumed it was male, he wasn't really sure) was portly, with a nose that looked like a squashed banana, complete with brown spots mottled across it and his cheeks. Two tentacles depended from beneath that odd proboscis, twitching as he spoke. And as he spoke, he gesticulated wildly with two hands that appeared to have built in pot holders on them, instead of fingers. How could he even operate those? Stephen wondered to himself, before he had one of those flipper-like hands pointing in his face.

"Yeeeeeeu! Yeu iss from dat ship! Is diss your pet, den, deesruptin' my keetchen?" He poked Stephen in the chest, and vaguely, the Etherite was reminded of an indignant walrus. But what in Tesla's name could he mean by pet? Stephen looked around, but he couldn't see any indication of what the fellow was on about.

So, he ventured the first thing that came to mind. "Hello?"

Pet? PET?!

Of all the... Calm. Taking a few deep breaths, the oddity manages to stop himself from crawling right to that portly fellow and giving him a sound bite. As it is, he's only after a few things for a benign purpose and biting would...well, that'd bloody well ruin it.

Chirping and managing a pretty decent flounce, the little beastie sticks his nose up in the air and flicks both ears forward. His reply? ...he really stinks at the whole "indignant chef who really does know his stuff" thing. Sue him, Renne's decently aware of his cooking skill!

"Noh be Pe-t, Hew-mahn." Uh oh. He called you a Human.

"Rrrr-enne be doo coo-k."

"Oh, hello, Renne," Stephen said mildly, even as the walrus/banana fellow turned a defined shade of nectarine orange in tint, and huffed, making the tentacles beneath the proboscis nose do a little jig.

"An' zhuss what du yeu think yeu are goin' ter do heearh then? In MYYYYY keetchen?" The walruslike being puffed himself up even more and leaned down to narrow his beady black eyes more at the little blue critter.

Oh dear, this can't be good, Stephen thought. But in a moment of quick thinking--or perhaps not thinking at all, all things considered--he blurted, "How about a bake off?"

This is a whole entire other can of worms he might be opening, here. Beady black eyes settled on the Scientist, narrowed again, even as the tentacle mustache twitched.

"Dis," the walrus intoned. "Perfhapps. Dis I can ghet beehind."

"Eeee. Rrrr-enne do ca-ke fohrrr Big Shi-p. Gad-off noh gi-ve ca-ke, Rrrr-enne do ca-ke!" Chitter.

Hey, he's kind of excited about this proposition. Then again, this little beastie tends to jump at any opportunity to cook -- Er...Bounce with excitement, that is.

"Eee! Yeu is on!"

For his part, Stephen wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be doing now. He shuffled himself off to a corner of the kitchen near the door, looking very wide-eyed, even as the walruslike fellow started bellowing orders in something that was definitely not English. Considering Renne's reaction, it clearly wasn't a bad thing, his suggestion, but...

"Um. Renne, I don't--well." He'd gotten the oddity INTO this current situation, even if he wasn't all that great at cooking. He ought to at least do something about it. "If you need an extra pair of hands, I take direction well?"

"Eeee. May-bee, yeu fin-d wha-t Rrrr-enne nee-d?" Chirp.

This is a kitchen he's never been in before and he's no idiot. For a good bit in his first round of actually cooking in here, a pair of working eyes to place things will be a godsend. Of course, this also means a good bit of trust on Renne's part. Still, the oddity already begins sniff-crawling about and trying to navigate the place. Orientation first includes knowing where you are, not to mention the things you'll need!

"Assuming I can figure out what's in it, yes." Though this means the goggles will be necessary, information overload or not. He's hoping that some things will be fairly obvious, or he can figure it out from watching the walrus fellow, who is already busily gathering his materials together.

A little bit, Stephen feels like he's just found himself in the kitchen on the Iron Chef TV show, or maybe one of the cake-competition shows. Though he doubts that they're going to be making some sort of elaborate cake on the outside.

Then again, he's been known to be wrong before.

"Eee. Rrrr-enne nee-d fuh-laow-uhrrrr, soo-guhrrrr... Yeu kno-w wha-t go in ca-ke, eey-ess? Rrrr-enne nee-d ahll tha-t." Chitter.

He's coming along pretty well, gathering tools he finds and knows he'll need -- bowls, hand-mixers, whisks, even the things you probably wouldn't want any blindfolk handling. Like that pretty big knife there, but the imp's handling that thing with a lot of care.
He carries blades by themselves.

"Eee!" And he's chittering away now with an amazingly chirpy voice. His tone might give away that he's been on or around ships for too bloody long but the chirpiness? It adds a level of cute that probably takes some of the seriousness out of his tone.

It took Stephen longer than he had expected. Probably because he was unused to the alien text, and the care he was taking to not irritate Renne with any of his own abilities. At least he has good balance.

It seems that it was an ambulatory stack of supplies...sacks of sugar and flour, a box of assorted flavorings, cocoa powder, and even a carton of eggs is piled high in the Scientist's arms. A jug of milk hung from one hand, swinging to and fro.

Carefully, he puts the entire array to one side of Renne, gentle with the eggs, but noisy enough with the other assortment of goods that he can be picked up by those large blue ears. "I hope you find this helpful?"

Baking was NOT Stephen's strong point, when it came to the culinary arts.

"Eey-ess. See-ben do goo-d!" Chirp.

Don't mind him. He's moving steadily faster in this kitchen as he learns it. And the little beastie's having the time of his life too.
It shows in the occasional flashes of happy across his skin.

Getting to a point comfortable enough to chitter out a rhythmic sea shanty, the oddity's concoction slowly begins to take shape. The mixing, the finding, the folding in and the blending all do their tricks -- wait, is that a splash of rum in there? -- as an entirely new cake flavour begins its formation on the spot.

He's creating an entirely new flavour here and it's a rather complex one from the growing amount of things he's asking for.

"Eee, See-ben tehll Rrrr-enne if hot-hot be wahrrrrm?"

"Hot-hot" is Rennese for the oven.

Luckily for Stephen, he figured that out. And it didn't take forever.

"I estimate that it's about three hundred and seventy-eight degrees." Both from reading the dial and from taking a peek with his goggles. Well, it was close to the setting desired.

Across the kitchen, the giant walrus style alien is bellowing for chopped dried cherries, which another, more felinoid type is scrabbling to bring him, canister in claws.

Kitchen's heating up indeed!

Heating up in more ways than one.

Chittering approval, the beastie nearly flies across the section of workspace he's familiar with in order to retrieve another element for this thing.

It's not too much longer that he grins in triumph. First layer? Ready to go in!

"Eeee, Stee-ben, p-lease put in hot-hot?"

There's a roar of triumph from across the kitchen, even as Stephen opens up the oven and slides the cake layer in with care. He even closes the door carefully. It seems the bakers are neck and neck, as Mr. Walrus has gotten his first layer in at about the same time.

Stephen takes a moment to go wash his hands, then awaits more orders.

"Eeee!"

That's a squeak of determination from him. Hardly afraid -- more, pumped on his equivalent of adrenaline than anything -- the Renne works on the next phase of his cake masterpiece. Yeah, he makes his icing from scratch.

Smell that? It's glowberry!

He may not be much of a cook, by his own judgment, but even he knows when supplies are running low. Thus, Stephen heads over to get more powdered sugar for icing. Only to have his hand close atop a furry one on the last canister.

And he dodges that same clawed, felinoid hand trying to take a chunk out of his own mitt. Behind his goggles, he narrowed his eyes.

"You got there first, fine, take it, you don't have to unhand me." The cat just hissed at him.

Well. At least there's plenty of regular sugar and enough empty canisters for Stephen to work his own special abilities. Don't mind him filling a canister that once held...cocoa, it looks like, and heading out back to the truck. At least when he comes back, it's POWDERED sugar that he has. If faintly tinged with powdered cocoa...

"Eeee. Noh hurrr-t See-ben!"

Squeak-growl. Oh, yes, he's quite authoritative in any kitchen he's cooking in. He cooks, no harm or he kicks out.

"Is ti-me, Cayke, aowt!"

Dutifully, Stephen obeyed. Mind, he actually wouldn't mind cake, so of course he's going to pay attention.

There's a faint burnt-caramel scent wafting from across the kitchen, and the walrus-like alien is once again turning a shade of nectarine orange and bellowing. Maybe someone messed up over there?

The Etherite placed the cake layer down on a cooling rack with care, and turned to the little blue critter, awaiting further instructions.

"Eeee, is goo-d. Naow, sta-ck, p-lease? Rrrr-enne ge-t frrroot."

Fruit? What? Oh, yes, he loves mixing and experimenting with new flavours. Upon speaking, the oddity scurries about to find what he needs. It's nearly time to frost the thing...

"Stack while they're warm?" He's a little uncertain about this now, to tell you the truth, Renne. But he's ignoring the ongoing ruckus from the other side of the kitchen, and the cringing kitchen-workers and the angry walrus.

Stephen has HIS orders, after all.

"Eey-ess."

You'll see, Stephen. Now that he's got everything he needs -- including a couple of what billy Cranston calls "Glowberries", Renne crushes and mixes the frosting himself. He likes things made from scratch.

Well, at least Stephen realizes that he doesn't know as much about baking as he'd like to. So he obeys.

Whatever commotion seems to have been going on over on the other side of the kitchen seems to have calmed down slightly, although the walrus is wading through his helpers and huffing. The burnt smell seems to have dissipated a bit, and it seems like things over there may be proceeding apace.

"Than-k yeu, See-ben."

Chirp. Letting the newly made frosting set, Renne crawls to the stacked layers. There's a reason why he stacks them early and this is it: The little imp absorbs any bit of heat he can get, cooling the layers slowly but evenly. Consistently, until they're perhaps just the tiniest bit stiff. Still moist, but firm.

Stephen just watched. Sort of awestruck, but fairly curious. He's more adept at regular cooking but he figures the same principles he'd used to teach himself cooking might be able to be used here.

If he had a clue. Which he doesn't.

"Sometime, when you're under less pressure, I think I'd like you to teach me a bit about baking." After all, that sort of thing sure couldn't hurt.

"Eeee, Rrrr-enne be hap-py, do tha-t."

There's a grin on his face as he begins frosting his and Stephen's creation. Honstly, teaching someone else is both a new thing and a thing he'd love to try. Once he's done frosting the cake, the oddity lets out a squeaking chirp.

"Is do-ne! Eeee!"

At that joyous cry, the walrus-alien looked up from his work and snorted in disbelief. At the oranging of the creature's face, Stephen held up a hand.

"I do have to admit that Renne has certainly won the first obstacle by finishing first. However, this is a bake-off, and it's hardly finished. There needs to be a testing of the goods, and this means that you do have time to finish your own concoction."

The walrus seemed mollified at that, and bent quickly to his work.

"Hee."

Oh, he's a happy little thing; skin flashing brilliantly to show it. Although incredibly excited, he's a patient creature and waits for the others to finish up.

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Let Them Eat Cake -- OPEN Like an Open Thing!

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Wow, I am fail with slowness!

Eh, you found a round to it. ^.^

Re: Eh, you found a round to it. ^.^

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