La Coordination
Act Eleven
The smell of food made his stomach twitch as well as his nose. Well there was something he was not used to. But not just to wake to a meal being made but to smell food that actually seemed good. He took note of the potatoes first off but the scent of fresh bread came in at a close second. When was the last time he had a decent, hot breakfast? For her sake, it better be as good as it smelled.
Dagur allowed his eyes to open in the same moment he lifted his torso from the mattress. He took a brief moment to gather himself before swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. As his vision came into focus he spotted his armor still on the floor, in the same place and condition he'd left in during the night. Huh, she hadn't rushed in once awake and cleaned up after him? Was she that lazy or just being stubborn? Either way it was a character flaw that he'd work out of her soon enough.
He lifted his chin to the sound of dishes clanking and knocking about. So much noise! Didn't she have the decency to be quiet when he was sleeping? Another bad habit to erase in the future. But in her small, unneeded and undeserving defense, there wasn't a bedroom door. Why? Of course he could ask her but he'd probably just get an answer so stupid, it'd make his right hand tingle. Best let her wallow in her ignorance while she had the chance to.
With a grunt and sigh, he pulled his body from his new bed and stood up straight. He didn't even take a moment to stretch before leaving the confides of the small bedroom and stepped through the tiny home until he found himself in the living/kitchen area of the house. At the stove she stood, moving about without any kind of hesitation or worry. Hm, pretty confident for someone who was facing a rather unforeseeable future.
At the counter sat a few different plates full of different foods. What was with this feast? It wasn't like she was expecting company, was she? She should know better. Ah well, if someone did happen to show up, he could always throw them off the property with little effort.
He continued to make his way to the kitchen table without a word. He watched her back as she worked; better to get a sense of how she worked now and be prepared for the future in case she got any ideas of going hero. Apparently she had found time between waking up and cooking to change into a new outfit. Of course she had done it while was asleep but had she changed while in his bedroom or in the living room? It wasn't like it mattered now but the fact that she could have attempted to hurt him in his sleep made his skin crawl.
Why didn't she?
It would have been easy. It was something to think about anyway.
"Morning." The sound of her voice made him stiffen for a second. So she heard him enter the area?
Instead of a verbal reply he grunted and found a seat at the small rounded table. He wasn't required to reply, in fact she should be happy that she was allowed to speak when not spoken or ordered to. In the short time he'd been on Berk she hadn't made any rude remarks in his presence so there wasn't any need to punish her, yet.
"How did you sleep?" She spoke again, almost like she was actually interested.
Before responding, Dagur glanced away from the cook's back and to the couch she had slept on. Out of the corner of his eye the thrashing of a blonde ball of fluff had caught his attention. There the creature he had thrown out the night before lay, on her back rolling about in her bed. How? He narrowed his eyes, taking mental note that she was unharmed and looked relatively happy given the night she no doubt spent outdoors.
Did the dog come scratching at the front door? Maybe that woke her up. But if that was true, why hadn't the girl started off the morning by screaming her head off? After all, she seemed so determined to keep the dog indoors.
"If I'm gonna come with you, Bug is too."
"I'm willing to fight for it."
Well, if she wasn't going to mention it, he wouldn't either. And if she did sometime later, he'd put her in her place and show her who was in charge. Could it be that she had gotten the message sometime after that confrontation and changed her mind? It was possible. He'd find out for sure one way or another.
"As well as I could, seeing as I'm on Berk." He returned his focus to her and answered her question.
"Hungry?" Hea asked, now turning away from the stove and to the counter.
"I am sitting here, aren't I? And that is why you're working for me."
For a second she paused whatever she was doing. Was she holding her tongue or scared? He watched after the moment passed as her shoulders lifted and then fell like she had sighed. What was that about? He fought back the urge to demand an answer while she grabbed two full plates from the counter and turned to the table. She stepped toward him and dropped the dishes in the center of the wooden structure before turning on her heel and repeating the process. This time around she placed one empty plate in front of him and one at the opposite end of the table.
So she was planning to eat with him, eh? And seeing as she only had two empty plates meant that she wasn't expecting any company. Good, the last thing he needed was to put up with Berk scum first thing in the morning. This was his house now and only with his permission would someone like Hiccup would be allowed inside.
A clank of yet another ceramic plate caught his eye. On the dish sat a kind of food he'd never seen before. A stack of round, steaming discs made him cock a red brow. What the hell was that? He was no food expert by far but he knew common breakfast foods when he saw them and this wasn't something he'd seen before.
"What is that?" He asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the golden circles.
The cook paused just after dropping said plate she turned to him. "The flapjacks?"
"If I don't know what they are, how would I know what they were called?" His lifted brow tightened into a scowl.
She allowed her large brown eyes rolled after placing a single disc to his empty plate. "You can't tell me you've never had flapjacks." She stood straight and moved her right hand to her hip. "You know hotcakes, pancakes, griddlecakes?"
His narrowed his stare even further. "No." He then proceeded to cross his arms across his chest. "Is this one of those 'freak of nature' things that you city people eat? Berserkers don't eat cake in the morning."
"You've never had one?" Her look of frustration faded as well as her arm from her hip. What was with the sudden look of sadness? "You poor thing."
Before he could say any more, she reached across the table and grabbed the nearby butter dish. She tore off the lid and only stopping to grab a knife, dapped the utensil in the lard before returning her attention to him. Hea wiped the condiment across the cake in a single swoop and once finished, took the knife and plucked a second flapjack from the center plate. She mirrored her last actions in the same fashion before reaching out once again until her hand came to glass bottle. Her delicate hand twisted the cap from the container before she moved on and drizzled his food with a thick syrup.
By the smell of it he could tell it was maple. Maple syrup, the sugary confection used to make candy in the winter? What was she doing?
"Now," The younger female spoke in a tone he hadn't heard from her since being in her home. "Since you're new to this, I'm not gonna add too much syrup to your 'jacks. A lot of people are really picky about how much they add." What was she yammering on about this for? "I don't want to drench them so I'm just gonna put on a bit, if you want more the syrup's right here. My mom always said you could always add more to something, but never remove it once it's been done. The same law applies here!"
Was she really losing herself in her own little pathetic world? Did her focus always revolve around cooking? How disappointing and sad. Could this woman get anymore dull? He continued to watch her face as she pulled away from the table with a rather wide smile on her features. So she wasn't faking it? She was actually enjoying this?
"Do you always blab on like that?" Dagur spoke out, lip lifted.
Almost instantly her smile dropped and a deep familiar frown returned. "Yes, it's one of my better traits in fact."
"We're gonna hafta work on that then." He removed his arms from his chest and extended his hands toward the fork and knife in front of him.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched as her arms became stiff at her sides and hands clenched. Ah, so he was getting under her skin? Just how long was it going to take before she snapped? When would her mouth get the better of her and her manners vanish? It would be an interesting conversation when it did finally happen.
With a slight shrug of his massive shoulders, he dove into his food, fork and knife first. He had no problems with the cakes as his utensils pressed into them. They were lighter and fluffier than he expected. And as he cut out a single triangle-shaped piece of food he took note of the softness. Was it even possible for food to be soft and worth eating at the same time? While he had never even heard of this kind of meal, it didn't look too bad. At least the smell of the maple sap was intriguing enough.
He lifted the food to his mouth and took a bite. Again more softness, fluffiness but the tingle of sugar on his tongue made him twitch. Sugar? Sure, he was aware the any kind of syrup would contain a lot of the white stuff but this much just in one bite? It was almost like eating candy! In fact, it was very similar to the ginger candy she had given him the night before! What kind of person would pack in so much sugar in the morning?
"So?" Hea asked in a light tone.
He took a second to swallow the food in his mouth before shooting the 'chef' another glare. "What is this? It's so sweet!" Dagur then dropped his fork to the table. "This is dessert, not breakfast! It's no wonder you're so tired at the end of the day, it's because you've crashed after eating this junk!"
At first her eyebrows arched to the top of her forehead and her mouth opened like she was shocked but then her face twisted into an unappealing grimace. Her clenched hands tightened into fists and her body became ridged with anger. Ah, a sore spot? Hm.
"How dare you!" The dam of patience and fake smiles finally gave way. "My food is not junk! I go out of my way to make a huge breakfast for you and that's the way you thank me?! You're just saying that because you aren't used to eating flapjacks, so of course they'd seem sweet at first! You don't know everything!" Her shoulders went stiff as she yelled loud enough to make his ears ring.
Shouting? At him? This early in the morning? Not to mention the utter disrespect of telling him what he did and didn't know. There was no way this woman; this girl was going to speak to him like that. He was the leader of the Berserker tribe! She was lucky to be alive with a mouth like that! He'd chosen her out of everyone else on the lame excuse for an island to work for him. She should be grateful.
Dagur let his knife hit the table below him before he pushed backward in his chair. Waiting until he had enough space, he lifted himself from his seat and turned to his chef. As he grew several inches above her, she appeared to shrink slightly. He moved in to her regardless of any look of remorse appearing on her face.
"You work for me." He said in a flat and strong tone. "Your job is to make me food, good food. If I ask you to make me mountains of food and I don't even give it a second glance, then that's how it's gonna be." He ducked down, coming into even closer contact with her and proceeded to extend the index finger of his right hand and shove it into her shoulder, "You're only purpose in life now is to make me," His hand pulled back and he jabbed his thumb into his own chest, "Meals and if I say it's junk, then it's junk. Get it?"
Hea's bottom lip pulled into her mouth while her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. It didn't matter if she was embarrassed or even upset at this point, his word was law now. Just as his right arm fell back to his side, her head ducked between her shoulders.
"It's not junk."
Was she still talking?! Even when he was in her face and making physical contact she continued to fight back! Wasn't his warning enough to shut her up?! He could tell by the look on her face that she was scared, terrified even but she still had enough courage to talk back!
Fine. If she was going to be that way, two could play at that game. He took a single step away from the girl and turned back to the round table. With his left hand he reached out and took hold of the plate of flapjacks and held it in front of his chest. In a seamless fashion he moved the dish from his left palm into his right then looked at her. Making sure to stare her squarely in the eyes, he jerked his right limb outward. The plate full of food left his fingers in an instant, flying across the room until it shattered against the opposing wall in the living room.
"Junk."
The female turned at the sound of the ceramic dish hitting the wall and gawked at the leaking, sticky breakfast mess on the floor for a good thirty seconds before looking back in his direction. Her brows now touched the top of her forehead and her lips parted in shock. The slight redness that had appeared on her cheeks darkened and now gathered just below her eyes.
"How could you?" She asked, voice now shaken and feeble. Where had all the fiery anger and passion go? "I spent so much time on that." Her eyes fell away from him and she reached toward the table and lifted an empty plate to her chest. "It was one of a kind."
Dagur felt his right eyebrow lift as the younger woman clenched the dish to her bust. What? It was just a plate! It could be replaced, besides she had plenty more! Had she made these plates by hand or something? Hell, even if she had they were still just tableware, there wasn't any good reason to be upset.
"I made that and it took a really long time." Her large brown eyes moved back to him. "Sure, there are plenty more but that one was unique!" A sudden depth in her voice made him stiffen. "It took me weeks to make it as perfect as possible! You have no idea how much time, effort and love I put into making it! There'll never be one like that again!"
All this drama…over a plate? He staggered for a half a second.
"You're so ungrateful!"
"It's a plate." Dagur crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his stare.
"Not the plate, the flapjack!"
What? What the…?
Hea pulled the dish away from her chest and moved her arms well above her head. With a single swiping motion she threw the object to the ground. The off-white serving dish smashed upon contact, small sharp shards of pottery flying in every other direction.
"Of course they're sweet! They're supposed to be sweet!" She began to shout again, this time loud enough to make the entire home shake. "I spent weeks and weeks perfecting that recipe until it was just right! It was superior to every other recipe because I made it!"
The tribe leader felt his arms go numb as they dropped from his upper body. His face twisted as the crazed girl stormed away from his side, pacing back and forth. What in Thor's name was she ranting about now? This was even stupider then being upset about the broken dish, she was throwing a fit about a flapjack.
"If you tried anyone else's flapjacks, you'd see where I'm coming from! Everyone else's are dry and tasteless. And I know what you're gonna say, 'that's what the maple syrup is for' but that's WRONG!" She paused and brought her fisted hands to her chest. "If your flapjacks are flavorless then all you're gonna taste is the syrup! And if I wanted to taste only the syrup then I'd just eat the syrup! What would be the point of making the 'jacks?!"
This girl is crazy.
"There wouldn't be one." Hea's hands rattled in front of her body, rant not yet finished. "I made that recipe so the flapjacks would be good enough to eat alone, without syrup if need be! That's why they're sweet! Because they have flavor."
Again for the countless time that morning, Dagur felt his eyebrow lift. He took a second to look at her from head to toe and back again. "You're nuts."
Hea's body relaxed the moment he spoke, her arms hitting her sides and fingers falling free. She stood up straight and composed herself. "If making good food makes me nuts, then yes. Yes I am."
The Berserker leader felt a heavy sigh leave his lungs and lips. He took a number of steps backward until he found his chair and took a seat. Across the dining area he watched as his personal chef fall back against a kitchen counter. So that was it? Was she finished? Was he finished for that matter?
"The rest of the food's getting cold." The sound of her strained voice echoed through the home.
Was she insisting he eat? Even after the shouting match they'd just had? Then again if she was that possessive about the flapjacks then how did she feel about everything else on the table? While the statement was true and he had said earlier that he wouldn't eat cold food, something about what she'd just said sounded too much like an order.
"You expect me to eat this food? I don't see any meat here." He rested his arms on the table, eyes scanning over the fried potatoes, fresh bread, muffins and remaining flapjacks.
"I used everything I had last night in the stew." She exhaled. "The only thing I have left is the bacon Rye's been saving."
"Make it."
"But it's not mine. I'll go and get more later, I promise."
His hands clenched. "Unless you want more of a mess to clean up, you will go and make it."
The short-haired woman tilted her head back as if she were tired or fed up and groaned. With a solid push off the stone counter, she stood up straight and parted from the area. He'd seen that look on her the night before when she 'gave up' and just did as told. So, as long as she was following orders that's all that mattered.
She'd break soon but reforming her by dinner would make a new record for him.
Act End.
