1965-05-03 - Shopping for Dinner
Summary: Johnny is cooking. Beware the doom.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
mike-matthews johnny-storm 


Johnny is dressed as he usually is; jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, and as usual, they fit like a second skin. Real clothes don't actually fit quite like that usually, not and allow flexibility, but these happen to be one of his special outfits made of unstable molecules. They only look like regular clothes. Still. They arrived in one of his collection of sports cars and then Johnny is out, "This place is a little wild. You can buy almost everything there, though mostly its a place for food. Still, I'm going to bet you haven't had lobster since visiting this our fare planet, so I'm going to make a lobster dinner. I know, I know…" He laughs, "I said I only cook breakfast, but there's a few exceptions."


Mike Matthews is similarly clad in jeans and a t-shirt though that's where the similarity ends. His own clothes are a bit on the more relaxed fit side of things, though his t-shirt doesn't entirely hide the physique beneath. Today, it is a dark red, almost maroon in color. He gets out of the car and circles around to meet Johnny, grinning. "Aside from those crazy lobster/crab like creatures we fought in Chinatown that one time… I haven't seen a lobster." He then says, "Though I hear that they are delicious. I look forward to trying them." He then laughs and says, "I did think that you only cooked breakfast. Secret cooking skills?" He then looks around to take in the market, the various stalls, and the great variety of goods.


"Secret." Johnny grins with that easy confidence of his, wagging his eyebrows for a moment, then he laughs, "Yeah, secret cooking skills. See, I can't have someone thinking I've got these mad domestic skills, I'm already too much of a catch." he stops at a stall, selects a few different kinds of mushrooms and then hands over some money for the lot he grabs up in a bag. "I'm not much of a wine guy, but with lobster? I'll raid Reed's wine vault and get a nice chardonnay. The pairing is perfect. Normally I'd trust you with the drinks, but since you haven't had lobster—"


"First it's stalkers, then it's kidnapping attempts," Mike says with a slow shake of his head, as though comisserating. "You never want to appear too elligible." He then chuckles and looks around at some of the vegetables, picking them up, smelling them, setting them back down. It earns him a look from the vendor but he explains, "I'm not from around here.. I've never seen some of these." He then says, "I wouldn't know what to mix with it, never having tasted it. Besides, I like the idea of just enjoying a glass of wine with whatever you make."


At the next stall, Johnny buys a bunch of asparagus and two lemons. "Exactly." He nods to Mike with a grin, "I knew you'd understand." He nods to the vegetables Mike looks at, briefly explaining what they are, though his knowledge is limited. Next stall over, he buys a jar of ghee, "Clarified butter. They take the butter and heat it until the milk solids separate from the butter fat, and they skim the solids off. So its just pure fat. You know, pure flavor." Finally, he goes to stand in front of one of the large tanks of lobsters, nods to the vendor, and points out two. They come out, waving their little claws, and go into a bag that he takes and hands more money over.


Mike Matthews follow along, hands in his pockets once he's done molesting the vegetables and identifying one or two he might try out at a later date. He nods as Johnny explains the butter, studying it with a little bit of a grin. He knows what butter is, but this special butter is new. Then he observes the lobsters in the tank, watching them move about and climb over one another. He taps one finger lightly on the glass and then steps back and away, nodding when the lobsters are handed over. "Oh, I understand. There's a reason that I tried to excel at all skills that do well at parties, and nothing that someone might look for in a long term political arrangement." Of course, his skills as a diplomat notwithstanding.


There's a couple more stops— garlic cloves, shallots— and then with his pair of bags, Johnny leads back towards the car. "I carefully cultivate the balance between fame and notoriety that I have going on, myself. In the end both are useful. Some doors open to fame, but not infamy; some to infamy, but not fame. But, didn't you want to get married eventually? Isn't it the duty of a prince to one day get to making little princes?" He asks with curiosity, even as the lobsters clack away against eachother.


"Did I want to get married? No. Would I have been obligated to? Yes. I was an only child, so it would have been my responsibility, if the line of succession wasn't to be broken, to produce children. Otherwise, inheritance would likely have gone on to a cousin or other heir of my father's choosing," Mike says as he glances down at the lobsters clacking about in the bag. Then he glances back toward Johnny as they walk back toward the car.


"You cook lobsters alive. Don't worry, they die basically instantly." Johnny explains, of the clacking, "I can't entirely imagine having such an obligation." admits Johnny, sliding into the car after depositing the stuff in the back. He waits for Mike to get in, then peels out, using his usual reckless reliance on his own driving skill to race towards the Baxter Building. "The Storm's aren't really anyone, family wise. There's just me and my sister. Arguably, Reed and…" Grudging, "…Ben are sorta family now, but its not the same thing. So!"


"I wasn't worried," Mike says. "There are some cultures in which there are delicacies that are served while alive. It's not my personal preference to eat a creatur while it is still conscious and moving around, but to each their own." He has long since been used to Johnny's driving and doesn't seem to worry about the recklessness. THey always get where they're going in one piece. After a time he says, "It's just the way it is. I knew eventually I'd be expected to accept one of the many elligible and likely very nice candidates my parents would consider suitable. Fortunately, doing so wouldn't have precluded me being able to have other lovers. I'd just be expected to produce at least one heir."


"Enlightened outlook. That said, I am not really ethically _opposed_ to the idea of monogamy." Johnny admits with a shrug, even as he pulls into the Baxter garage's private entrance, enteringa code to open the garage door, and then quickly parking. "Yeah, though." He laughs casually, "I'm not interested in eating anything alive that's more complicated the yeast, personally. I fully recognize the death that being an omnivore means I cause, but to have it directly part of _eating_itself_ is… kinda barbaric?" He slides out, grabs the bags and heads to the private elevator, "You know, if you wanted, I could probably swing you an apartment in Baxter. If you agreed to help the Four on missions— which you already do, even if its One of Four— Reed would cover rent through the Future Foundation, plus pay a stipend. One of the two points of the Foundation is to support the Four."


"Neither am I," Mike says, "I'd just never met anyone on Daxam that I'd felt that particularly committed to." He then laughs a little bit and says, "Not to mention just messy." He shakes his head and follows along toward the elevator, stepping inside and leaning up against the wall while Johnny does all the necessary button pushing to get them where they're going. "Yeah, we talked about that back during the whole potential lead poisoning discussion," Mike says, when Johnny brings up an apartment at the Baxter building. "I seem to still be alive and ticking, so I don't think it's really necessary when I already have an apartment. I already agreed that I would help the Four on missions without it."


"Well, yeah, I know you're helping, my point is more — hey, this is Baxter." Johnny laughs softly, "Its nicer. I know we talked about it but I'm suggesting you think about hitting execute on the idea. Apartment paid by the Foundation verses apartment you have to work to pay. You could still be a bartender, but the Foundation could augment things. Increase standard of living. Hey, I have a job on the side, too." When they reach his apartment, he presses the buttons again, then goes and sets the bags on the island. Grabbing a large pot he fills it with water and then sets it on the stove, but doesn't bother turning the stove on. Instead he grabs garlic, and begins dicing it into small bits. "You don't have to, of course, I just want you to take advantage of what's available to you. Or at least, to consider doing so."


Mike Matthews moves over to the island and he slides himself onto one of the stools, folding his arms in front of him as he watches Johnny being to prepare the pot and the garlic. He props one foot on the rung of the stool. He listens, though, and he nods. "I'll think about it," he finally says — which is much the same thing that he had said the last time. "Is there anything that I can do to help?" He nods toward the food preparation.


Johnny pulls the shallot out, "Peel and dice about half." He nods to the other cutting board on the other side of the isle, and of course between them are all the knives. He continues dicing the garlic, and casts a grin over at Mike, "Its possible it will make your eyes water. Or Daxamites might be immune to something as trivial as onion eye toxicity." He flashes a grin towards Mike, then goes to pull out a pan and setting it on the oven. He adds some of the ghee, and looks at it hard, and it immediately begins sizzling. The diced garlic is added a second later, and he stirs it with a wooden spoon while glancing sidelong at Mike, "I expect your speed will help?" A light tease.


Mike Matthews takes the shallot that is presented to him. He's familiar enough with it and onion-like things that he knows about how much skin needs to be peeled off. Then he moves over toward the cutting board and sets it down. He then begins the dicing, grinning a little bit over his shoulder. "I will hardly be brought to tears by an Earth vegetable," and true to his word he does manage to dice it without any tears. He smirks a lttle bit, and says, "It would if there were more than half a shallot. But this volume hardly requires it." He brings the diced shallot over and sets it down.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License