Leonard Snart // Captain Cold - IC Inbox

[hypothermic]

ID: coldasice

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[charbroil]

[ Maybe not exactly why he said it, but he doesn't really hate it, either. ]

Think my charity quota's full up for the year.

[ He pulls up a spoonful, then sticks it out between them. ]

Huh. Taste it. Beans are still kinda hard, but I don't think I got any...

[ Ham and beans and some bits of vegetables have already made the broth thick and savory. His lips start to purse to blow on the thing, but he manages to stop himself at the last moment. ]

[billionerd]

[ That's okay, Ray can blow on it himself. He tries it and immediately wants a bowl. ]

It's great! When can I have more?

[charbroil]

[ A hand up, pressed to Ray's breast, halting. Even if he can see the possibility for flattery, Mick huffs in a way that suggests he's suppressing a smile. ]

Another hour at least before the beans tender up. Bad idea to come into a kitchen hungry, Punch Buggy.

Don't you have some baking to do?

[billionerd]

... right, yeah. I guess.

[ He glances back at the stuff he brought in. ]

You don't happen to know how to bake do you?

[charbroil]

I know it's all about following the instructions and I'm not good at it.

[ He offers. ]

I can do pancakes and waffles. I was a line cook for a couple years. Anything else, you better have some sort of recipe.

[billionerd]

I'm going for homemade bread but I don't have a recipe and haven't done it since I was a kid.

[ He looks sheepish about it. But baking isn't that hard once you have the ingredients and are willing to do a lot of trial and error. Ray's very used to working at something until he gets it right so he's not that worried. ]

I'll figure it out, it'll just be messy.

[charbroil]

Lookin' forward to it.

[ He confesses, with a small cut of teeth. ]

Kitchen staff usually do it for you?

[billionerd]

I cooked for myself, but I buy bread already made. [ Mick probably thinks he lived in some manor with twenty staff members. ] I had loft, a housekeeper came over once a week to dust and vacuum.

[charbroil]

[ That's almost exactly what Mick thought. Maybe not twenty, but you know, at least three. Definitely a manor. Even now, Mick's pretty sure the 'loft' could probably comfortably fit the Waverider. ]

Guy like you didn't have a team of Roombas?

[billionerd]

There's no point unless you can have kittens riding on top of them, and I'm allergic.

[charbroil]

[ Mick wrinkles his nose, feeling like he's missed a reference somewhere. ]

Yeah, me too. Allergic to picking up after dumb animals. Is it just me or does every other person here come strapped with some kind of pet?

[ Having nothing better to do, Mick flicks the useless soup spoon down on the table and moves to look at Ray's materials. ]

[billionerd]

[ Ray's laying stuff out, trying to remember what else he needs. Jon gave him way more yeast than he'll need which is great because he'll have more chances to mess up. ]

I think the Clock just hands animals out to people who don't have that much to do.

[ He's noticed how many people have some pet or other, he mostly steers clear because fur makes him sneeze. ]

[charbroil]

Like I needed another reason to stay busy.

[ He grumbles, moving beyond the ingredients to pick up some bowls to put on Ray's work station. ]

But I'm not cleaning. Our 'company' can do that.

[ Mick comes to rest a hand on the table, his eyes going distant. ]

Or maybe this place'll just implode tomorrow and it won't matter.

[billionerd]

Yeah, I'll put the guests to work.

[ He falls quiet for a moment, Ray doesn't know enough about the Clock to guess at its volatility, but explosions are probably not completely out of the question. ]

An implosion is probably more likely. I mean, probably. If it's a pocket universe there's nothing to explode into. If it's a nexus then... it's still gonna be inwards since it's not a steady bridge, there's a wall between us and the worlds this place is connected to.

[charbroil]

Doesn't take a genius to figure out the pool's getting smaller. Maybe it'll just dry up. Maybe we'll all go down the drain.

[ A shrug and a sniff as Mick returns to himself. ]

Guess we'll see.

[ He moves to the fridge then, pulling the door open and fishing out a beer. ]

[billionerd]

It depends on what the energy source is.

[ Ray's not stressed exactly, there's nothing he can do about what's going on without information, and if the Clock is unwilling or unable to communicate then there's no way to get that information. ]

If we're a drain on the resources we'll likely all be sent back to wherever we were grabbed from.

[charbroil]

Wouldn't that take more energy?

[ There's a little bang as Mick uses the edge of the fridge to bust the cap off of his beer. He turns and shuts the door, leaning back against it to take a sip. His expression is a grim, thoughtful one. ]

[billionerd]

It depends, it's like having a car. Turning it off and on again drains gas, and it might be more cost-effective to keep it on if you're only stopping for a minute, but if you're stopping overnight it's better to turn it off.

[ He's speaking while mixing up ingredients. ]

So if we're a constant energy drain and we think of this place as a living engine, then to ensure its own survival it'd kick us out. Unless we are the gas, I guess.

[charbroil]

If we were the gas, it'd never let us go, but people come in and out all the time.

[ Another swig. ]

Or disappear. Maybe it's got a taste for soylent green.

[billionerd]

I don't think the place is ill-intentioned.

[charbroil]

I'll remember that if we end up running out of food and pets and start resorting to cannibalism.

...

I dunno, maybe I'll skip the middle steps when we're down to beets.

[billionerd]

We're only about forty people here. If we really do end up going post-apocalyptic, we have more than enough food to feed everyone until we can start growing more.

[ He might have given this a lot of thought. ]

We could survive on potatoes alone for a pretty long time.

[charbroil]

I've done enough surviving.

[ He says it simply, seriously. The bottle is raised to his lips. ]

If I'm not living, you're all dead.

[billionerd]

[ Ray's not about to get hung up on hypotheticals, as serious and worrying as Mick sounds. ]

We'll be fine, I promise.

[charbroil]

[ Mick scoffs loudly, snapped out of his darker musings. He looks like he can't decide whether he's more annoyed or amused. ]

Stick to promises you can keep, Sunshine, even if you don't plan on keeping them. I know you can lie better than that.