quatre: they will put away the sword

[untamedantinous]

There are a number of kitchens to be found in the mansion, as most people know. Enjolras is in one of them, flour speckling his flannel shirt and black jeans. There is a recipe book open on the counter near him, open to a page on baguettes. The young man in question is currently absorbed in kneading some dough: once again, something new to concentrate on. (Yes, he had known that Combeferre and Courfeyrac were only here for a day, but that does not really make it much better.) So, inspired by Laertes -- and, perhaps, the underwhelming boeuf bourguignon the mansion had provided the other day -- he is attempting a French classic. Perhaps a homemade baguette will taste better than mansion-provided food.

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[summerdude]

"Oh, hey dude," says Magnus, coming into the kitchen, smelling of the cold wind blowing outside. It feels like it's probably going to snow soon, so he's stocking up. Food first, and then he has vague plans to find a tarp or two lying about somewhere. "Whatcha doing?"

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras turns and glances over his shoulder, smiling briefly. "Hello! I am making a baguette, or attempting to. I have never done it before. What are you up to?"

[summerdude]

"Raiding the refrigerator to stock up my camp," Magnus says, suiting action to word on the hunt for things easy to prepare over a campfire. He has an eye out for some of Heidrun's mead, too -- it's getting chilly enough outside for it to feel a little brisk even to him, though not enough for him to be truly affected by it -- and the mead, in addition to being energizing, is warming even when it's cold. "How's the baguette going?" He looks over his shoulder at what Enjolras has going on, but it mostly just looks like a bunch of dough.

[untamedantinous]

"It is more fickle than I anticipated," he says, laughing a little and trying to brush some errant flour off his shirt. "There are two rises that I must contend with, and they are both about 45 minutes. I did not think there was this much sitting involved in baking." To be fair, there is probably not much sitting at all involved if you are employed as a baker, but Enjolras has never done that. "But hopefully it will turn out better than the stew I got the other day."

[summerdude]

"This must be why there's not a lot of baking too the death classes in Valhalla, I guess," Magnus says, divesting the fridge of all of its hot dogs and snacks and moving onto the pantry for better shelf-stable items. "Too much lag time, too little assurance that you'll come back to life in time to -- whatever it is you do between rises."

[untamedantinous]

"Today, I have been mostly talking to people. I am not certain what one generally does in this case." He wrinkles his nose at a particularly stubborn smudge of flour. "Timing is, at least, important. Or so Laertes has said to me, he has baked many more things than I have,"

[summerdude]

"Laertes does a lot of cooking," Magnus agrees. "And he's really good at it! Between the two of them, he and Galahad have been keeping me well fed in my time outside. But it's getting cold so I'm trying to do better about fending for myself." The pantry has a ton of canned and dehydrated foods, and he dumps them all into his bag. He's strong; he can manage their weight.

[untamedantinous]

“He is,” nodding with a smile. “And quite patient about teaching it, when I’ve a mind to learn.” He lifts an eyebrow.

“Do you prefer it more, outside? It is turning too cold for me already out there, but I am from southern France, it is a little warmer there in general.”

[summerdude]

"I do like it outside! And anyway, I don't really feel most temperatures," Magnus says, glibly. "Extremes, yeah -- Muspellheim is burning hot and Niflheim is deadly cold, but I'm Middle Ground guy when it comes to, like, regular Midgardian seasonality."

[untamedantinous]

“That must be convenient,” he replies a little enviously, thinking of a few quite cold winters he had spent in Paris. “If you’ve ever need of a fire or a warm drink, the café is always available. I hesitate to offer good company, since it is mostly mine,” with a little grin. “And Grantaire’s. I do have more interests other than politics, I can assure you.”

[summerdude]

"The cafe did seem pretty sick during the talent show," Magnus says, enthusiastic. "And -- I'm happy to hear about politics if you wanna talk about them. I don't really know how a lot of things work outside of my specific area of experience. Obviously all cops are bastards, but..." He shrugs, and then squints at Enjolras, debating asking about how Grantaire is doing -- he still sometimes thinks about Enjolras's shining memory of Grantaire, the one he saw when he was healing the guy.

He settles for waggling his eyebrows. "A shared cafe, huh? How's that going?"

[untamedantinous]

“I am intending on giving you some writings, whenever I get around to it.” Once he gets his printing press all settled, that’ll be ready. He squints a little. “‘Cops’? The café is going well, I suppose. People seem to like it in any case.” ….Yes, he is mildly aware that that is not what Magnus was talking about.

[summerdude]

"Yeah, I was totally focusing on the 'cafe' part and not the 'shared' part," Magnus teases. "Cops are police."

[untamedantinous]

"Ah! Then -- yes, they are. There was one at the barricades," he says off-handedly. "He was shot." But that, again, is not what Magnus was asking, and so he continues. 'It is...as I said. Going well." Magnus may not know him well enough yet to know when he is being purposefully evasive, but the slight hint of pink in his cheeks may as well be the answer he was looking for.

[summerdude]

Magnus can tell, but mostly inasmuch as he's still careful to pay attention to boundaries -- here, and everywhere. "Cool," he says, dropping it. "And I bet there was one at the barricade. Those guys are like cockroaches. Never welcome, always scurrying about when you turn on the lights." He wrinkles his nose. This is rude to cockroaches. Alex can do a remarkably gnarly cockroach, and she would never shift into a cop. Point one to the cockroaches.

[untamedantinous]

"Mm, yes. We only found him out because a young boy recognized him for what he was and called him out." He shrugs a little. "We would have traded him for one of our own, but -- at that point it was too late."

[summerdude]

"He died?"

[untamedantinous]

“Our Prouvaire was shot before we could make the trade, yes.” He sighs. “We all died, aside from one. I suppose it’s a good thing he’s not here.”

[summerdude]

"The cop didn't die? That's so much worse," Magnus says, sadly, even though he of all people definitely knows that death isn't usually the end of a life.

[untamedantinous]

“Oh, he may have. I heard the gunshot, I did not see him again after that.” He doesn’t sound as if he particularly minds. He is, however, incorrect in his assumptions.

[summerdude]

"Huh." Magnus is slightly mollified. He gets back into action sweeping snacks into his backpack. "Okay then."

[untamedantinous]

“I would have shot him myself, but a volunteer offered. He had just saved Pontmercy’s life; so —“ He shrugs. “It seemed fitting to give him what he wanted.” He watches Magnus for a moment, thoughtful. “Would you like something warm to drink to bring out, as well? I could make tea or coffee, or vin chaud.”

[summerdude]

"Oh for sure, wouldn't necessarily want that on your own wyrd either," Magnus nods. "What's vin chaud?"

[untamedantinous]

“Ah, mulled wine? It is served during the winter, generally. Hot wine with spices in it, it is very good.” If Magnus doesn’t want any, Enjolras may make some later; but he figured he would offer.

[summerdude]

"I'm not really into booze," Magnus says, apologetically. "So I'll pass on that, but thanks! I'm more, like, Hot Chocolate Guy."