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[OPEN] take two slices of bread...
CHARACTERS: Taako and literally everyone
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY 049
SUMMARY: There's no television on the Station, but there's something better— which means it's time to cook
WARNINGS: Extreme deliciousness
I: [MENTAL LINK] Testing, testing...
II: Coming to you live from Nick Studios.
III: So long, Kitchen Nightmares.
IV: After the show.
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY 049
SUMMARY: There's no television on the Station, but there's something better— which means it's time to cook
WARNINGS: Extreme deliciousness
I: [MENTAL LINK] Testing, testing...
[It's a mental broadcast that hits first, a wavelength ping that's sent out across the station from one particularly cozy little corner, far away from any centralized hustle and bustle. A livewire shot to the brain.] (Tired of sitting around looking for cool shit to do? Hungry for adventure and spice? Look no further mis amigos! Back in action after an intergalactic sabbatical, coming to you live from a couple hallways down, it's time for Sizzle it up with Taako!
What is Sizzle it up with Taako, you might ask? Well, let me make it easy for you:
It's a fiesta for your soul. It's a sanctuary for your senses. It is— hands down— the only thing worth doing out here in the middle of Hivemind Central.)
[After a beat, Taako manages to pull off the mental version of clearing his throat, adding:]
(Miss it and you're dead to me.)
II: Coming to you live from Nick Studios.
[Anyone that followed the symbiotic satnav to it's source might find themselves suddenly convinced they're no longer on the Station once they round the final corner: stage lights, studio chairs, a fully-stocked display kitchen armed to the teeth with everything and anything an intergalactic Gordon Ramsay could ever want or need in either this lifetime or the next. Glittering arrows (entirely composed of magic, of course) run from the back of the aisle at center stage all the way down to the very front on some pre-determined path, flashing out 'preferred seating' before disappearing— and then reappearing at the rear again, repeating the cycle.
There are no ushers, no attendants; it's clear from all the obviously intricate setup work, Taako's been working on this for a long, long time.
And speaking of, it's fortunate— or unfortunate, depending on your opinion of him— that he's poised cheerfully out front, dressed from head-to-toe in a crystalline gemstone suit with the galaxy's highest collar, picked up from one very fruitful shopping trip on their previous mission (thanks for all the thieving help, hombres). It's blinding.
Possibly literally.
Late or early to arrive, everyone's greeted the same: a 7" photograph of Taako materializes right in front of your eyes, followed up by its living relative who promptly licks the tip of his pen, clearing his throat before asking, expectantly:]
Who am I making this out to?
III: So long, Kitchen Nightmares.
[Maybe it's part of being trapped out in the middle of nowhere, but the show is actually pretty good. Ingredients are chopped via levitating knives, thrown in bowls via trick shots, transmuted into anything and everything with a flick of the wrist. It's been forever since Taako bothered to cook for an audience, but there's something terrifyingly easy about settling back into it after all this time, all the terrible memories left behind in the past in favor of something new. Something that can be appreciated and felt.
The grin he wears is genuine, flashed with every success.
As a whole roast turkey walks itself to the nearest oven and climbs inside, he taps a finger against his chin in thought, glancing out into the open rows just ahead.] For this next part, I'm going to require audience participation!
[Whether you raise or hand or don't, you're selected— that's right, you— via one swivelling spotlight that hones in to shine overhead.] Come on up, don't be shy.
IV: After the show.
[Cleanup is easy when there's magic hovering around. Spare dishes of all kinds (savory, sweet, sour and everything in between) are left out for sampling along with a few bottles of wine from the markets of Shrill, along with napkins and cutlery.
But unlike earlier, Taako isn't so keen to network anymore: he's resting his heels, settled down against the back of one of the audience chairs nearest to the stage, one arm slumped across its back. Truth be told, he looks a little tired.
Then again, considering how much magic he'd poured into that hour-long performance, it's probably not surprising.]
iii
Okay, so it's the first time she's ever seen anything quite like it, but Lucina's heard about plays and theater, and cooking is a no-brainer, so she can wrap her head around the idea of cooking as pageantry. And it is entertaining; she can appreciate the finesse to the knifework, but more than that, she can appreciate the clear enjoyment Taako takes in making it happen.
Happiness is something to be treasured.
And she's a little lost on that train of thought when the spotlight zeroes in on her, and she blinks. Wait, what? ]
Ah...pardon?
no subject
[It's the only indirect hint he hands off initially, beckoning her up towards the stage with a waved hand. Somewhere backstage, an automated applause track plays. ] Audience participation kind of requires an audience.
no subject
Well, apparently she's not going to find out without using her legs, so she gets up and makes her way to the stage. ]
What...kind of participation, if I may ask?
no subject
And beyond that, an attentive audience limned in light.]
Ever used any magic before? Tricks, spells, cantrips— that sort of thing?
[Before she has the chance to respond, he adds:] Speak up, kiddo, make sure they can hear you in the back.
no subject
I -
[ Louder. Ah. Of course. She clears her throat and puts on her best Royal Projection Voice. That much, at least, she knows how to pull off. ]
I've not used magic myself, although I've seen many of my comrades practice it.
II.
The spectacle that greets her when she arrives is something to behold. It's a lot to take in, but she hardly finds the time to absorb it all before a photograph of an unforgettable if unfamiliar face blocks her view.
Her smile may be slightly forced, as though she isn't quite sure what to make of this encounter yet.]
You must be Taako.
no subject
[One hand presses against the center of his chest in surprise, as if he's shocked someone out here in the middle of Dead Space actually knows who he is. Which is terrible, because he's literally Taako, you know, from TV.]
And you are....?
no subject
[ The smile as she introduces herself is slightly more genuine. She inclines her head toward the setup at the front of the room. ]
You're a chef?