WEEK 2

[grimgrinningghosts]

[One week. One week spent in the Haunted Mansion, and nothing seems to have changed. The hinges still creak in doorless chambers, strange and frightening sounds still echo through and you still occasionally catch a flicker of candlelight out of the corner of your eye. You might be slowly becoming familiar with the mundanity of this communal life, and we've recognized that possibility.

Something has to give.]

[SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY]

{ooc: Don't forget to turn in your week 1/intro AC! As per murdergame tradition, this begins our new weekly schedule - Tuesday and onwards are locked for the motive. Everybody's just working for the weekend.

Additionally, a few people this week are going to get tagged by...something. If you'd like to opt out of this, please let us know.}

Comments

[terribibble]

Well I don't know that's why there wasn't but if I had to guess... I mean, I put down salt, y'know, to keep the ghosts away. And then they put down pepper and then someone else added sugar and it just... it became sort of...

[He trails off awkwardly. This is perhaps a little more information than he needs to give and also it sounds stupid when he says it out loud.]

[toogoodforhim]

...A mess?

[He gingerly flips the peach in the skillet, golden brown and sizzling away.]

[terribibble]

... Yes. That.

[He's just gonna maybe put on coffee. Has he already had coffee today? Yes. Does he need more? Well. He thinks he does.]

I'm awful sorry, I don't think we've formally met...?

[And it's been almost two weeks and good lord he is really falling down on that southern hospitality deal. Shame on him.]

[toogoodforhim]

Lefou. I've been...around, kinda. I thought everyone could use something sweet to lift their spirits.

[He plucks the fritter out of the pan and puts it on the rack to cool.]

You're welcome to have some, by the way - the ones on this side are cool.

[He hums cheerfully to himself, the tips of his fingers sticky with batter as he dips another couple of fruit slices into the batter and drops it into the oil.]

[terribibble]

Fiddleford. And ...thanks. Anythin' nice in this place is more than appreciated.

[He takes another one of the strawberries. He's always been partial to those. And maybe it's because he's just really hungry, but--]

These are real good. You do a lot of cookin'?

[toogoodforhim]

Of course! [A wry smile.] If that biography really says the only thing I'm good at is keeping people's spirits up, then I should at least try, right?

[The recipe's old but simple]

Me? Oh, um, some. I haven't gotten to do this in a while, though, usually I just make stew with whatever...

...fresh meat's available.

This is my maman's recipe.

[terribibble]

Y'know, that doesn't surprise me. It's not too different from my ma's, give or take a couple things.

[That's probably more comforting than anything else in this place has been yet. When he's stressed the best thing for him is something familiar, something grounding, and he's been wholly unable to find that here. This is Good.]

Mainly that it'd be just strawberries, since that's what we had the biggest patch of.

[So it's what they wound up keeping the most of when the rest of it got sold so their family of ten wasn't living on just strawberries and pork.]

[toogoodforhim]

Mothers never change, I guess.

[Wistful smile, sad tone.]

We had an apple tree. I used to climb it to help get the apples down from the tall branches. I always complained that the apples were too tart, so she would put extra sugar on it just for me.

Where are you from, M'sieur Fiddleford?

[terribibble]

America. East Tennessee, if we're bein' specific.

[... Does America even exist in the time LeFou is from. Is he going to have to explain America.]

[toogoodforhim]

Oh, the colonies! I've never heard of "Tennessee" before, but I met a man whose son moved to New France.

[...Yyyyes and no.

By now he's laid out a few more finished fritters, sprinkling sugar over top of them as they cool.]

[terribibble]

[So close and yet so far.]

I must be from a bit after your time. Where -- when I'm from we're not colonies anymore. There was a whole war, y'know -- but I'm no historian.

[Maybe he should take a sip of coffee before he babbles himself into a corner. Maybe try a peach. Predictably, the peaches are also good.]

[toogoodforhim]

Oh. Well... Congratulations?

[what do you say to that.]

You know, I think I do remember hearing about fighting in the colonies when I was in the army.

[terribibble]

[Yeah, it's... yeah. It's probably better they gently edge away toward other topics of conversation.]

Well I imagine bein' in the army you had plenty of other things to worry about.

[Maybe that's not a good topic either though...]

[toogoodforhim]

I was better off than the other soldiers, anyway, being the Captain's ordonnance. But when he was on the front lines I had to be there too.

[Which... when you're serving a glory hound, is usually.]

[terribibble]

It's awful impressive you made it back in one piece. I don't think I'd have the heart for the army, y'know. Maybe weapons design but that's not at all the same sort of...

[Tangent. Don't do that. He quiets himself down and takes another sip of coffee.]

Anyway. That coffee's for sharin', if you want some. Don't know if you take coffee.

[toogoodforhim]

Yeah, I was lucky. Bet you couldn't tell, but I'm not... strong, or fast, or even a good shot. I probably would've died if Gaston hadn't looked out for me.

[He wipes his hands off and comes over to pour a cup of coffee, and then adds some of the recently-reacquired sugar before taking a sip.]

Thanks. I could use some coffee, but I had a hard enough time figuring out this stove.

[terribibble]

Oh. Oh! I imagine so, yes. I could show you if you like? It's not too complicated once you've got the hang of it. It's designed to be easy.

[He doesn't even comment on not being strong or fast because, really, look at him. He doesn't even have a chin, and while he's a very hands-on engineer that hasn't exactly translated into impressive muscles. He's the last person who could possibly judge another man for not being perfect, a pure paragon.]

[toogoodforhim]

Uh- Yeah, sure. That would probably end better than me trying to figure it out myself.

[Yeah, well Lefou is still untraining himself from mentally comparing himself to that paragon of manliness.]

[terribibble]

[Look, Fidds had to put up with comparing himself to this in college -- and now Ford's pushing seventy and his abs are still unfair. He gets it. Believe him. The moment they actually get around to talking about this it'll all become clear.]

You just put the water in here -- there's a way to measure here based on how many cups you're goin' to make -- and the grounds go up top. You'll want to put in a filter unless you want them gettin' all in your coffee too. Really you just have to set it up and tell it when to start, it does everythin' else on its own.

[toogoodforhim]

[...Mon Dieu.]

How- this... this'll sound foolish, but how... does this work? There's no fire...

[terribibble]

Oh. Oh, land's sakes, forgive me, I ought to have explained. It makes its own... well, not fire exactly, but heat.

[How do you explain electricity to someone with no concept of it... Oh, yikes. Even a 1950s style kitchen must seem so alien to this poor man.]

Y'know lightnin'? How it'll strike a tree and start a fire? It's just another sort of heat and you can use it the same way. In my time we've worked out how to generate it safely and put it to use doin' all sorts of things, and one of them's heatin' up this coffee pot. See that wire there, leadin' into the wall? That's where it gets it from. There'll be a place somewhere in this house, probably somewhere we can't get to, with a generator or somethin' of that nature that's makin' all the energy.

[He... isn't sure that's enough, exactly, but if he wants to explain it properly he's going to have to backtrack into explaining protons and electrons and circuits and all sorts of things that may just confuse the issue further.]