Post by EriChar on Jul 13, 2012 8:24:44 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:450px; border-radius:20px 20px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 20px 20px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/S9CXo.jpg);] [/style][style=font-family:times new roman; font-size: 22px; color: #7f7f7f; letter-spacing: 5px; margin-top: 15px; margin-left: 3px;] [style=text-align:justify; padding: 20px; color: 151515; font-family: verdana; font-size:10px; margin-top:20px;]The Cook: Master Of the Kitchen The sun itself had barely begun to creep its way into the bathroom of the sunflower-headed ship, but her chef was already inside, refreshing himself for the day. Dressed in black trousers and an olive shirt, the sleeves rolled to its elbows and buttons loose to show a hint of the tight definition of his chest, he stood before the sink with his hands in the water. Soaking a cloth and wringing some of its dampness as he lifted it from beneath the water, the cook pressed the moist material against his face, slicking his shaggy straw coloured bangs backwards, and looking at his wet-faced reflection. Mopped with moisture, the anchor-shaped goatee that dusted this young man’s chin looked almost black, and the stray strands of hair decorating his top lip were darkened also, becoming more noticeable. His hair displaced, this would be possibly the only time of the day that the man’s right eye wasn’t hidden away behind thick, golden streams of hair, and for the most fleeting of private moments, the first class cook’s face was fully visible. Perhaps what was most apparent with the view of the food fabricator’s facial features was the asymmetrical aspect of the swirling brows above his eyes. Whilst the right features a spiralling point at its outside, the left brow of this man seemed to prefer to coil on the inside, making for a rather noticeable difference. It was perhaps no surprise that the cook usually preferred to bare only one of his brows at a time, as to avoid any untoward noticing of this perceivable flaw. The handsome prince, as always… Grinning at his reflection, the washed man forced the right-side bangs back downwards. Leaving them to hang loosely across his eye once more, the instance of the chef’s facial reveal had passed, and the mystery of his mug’s magnificence reasserting itself. Drying what was left of the water on his face with a towel; the cook drained the sink and left the bathroom, stepping into the crisp air of an early summer’s day. Kind of refreshing… Moving across his craft, the chef moved by the door to the infirmary, and as the main area of the ship came into view, he cast an eye to the bulbous crow’s nest sitting above the sails, and found himself to be wondering if the current watch had managed to stay awake. Shaking his head, the cook continued with his tasks and ducked inside the door to the dining room, which at this time was empty. Passing through quietly, he moved into the kitchen and checked it’s worktops, before moving over to the sink to get a cloth. Dipping a rag into the warm water from the sinks tap, the cook noticed that there had been a cup left to dry on the side, and smiled slightly to himself. Robin-chan must have been up late reading… Wiping his countertops ready for the day, a slight blush, the cooks mind quickly moved to late night activities that he and Robin-chan could have engaged in together, and with a lusty snort, the cook tossed the rag back into the sink. Pulling a cigarette from his pocked, the cook lit the ivory stick and pushed out a heart shaped lung full of smoke, pausing for a minute before continuing. Returning to his work, the cook stooped to fetch an armful of pots and pans from the cupboards dotted around the galley, placing them in various places around his work tops and on stoves, ready to be used. Stepping from behind the counters of his kitchen, the chef strolled through dining area and into the pantry, snatching up spices and dried items that he would need in his preparations. The pantry of the ship looked fairly disorganised to the eyes of anyone but the chef, but it was actually cleverly used chaos in order to stave off the attention of the locust-like member of their staff. After this, the master of the culinary arts then stepped over to his fridge, but paused for a moment before he unlocked it. Glancing around himself suspiciously, the chef made sure that their gluttonous captain wasn’t lurking around to try and gain a greedy hold on what was inside, and when he was satisfied that such an unsubtle idiot hadn’t hidden himself, he pressed in the code for the door. ”Na-mi swaaan, Nico-Robin-chwaan…” The cook oddly cooed the names of his feminine crewmates, in a manner as if he was reminding himself of something as he pushed the numbered buttons on the lock, and at last the fridge door opened. Looking around inside, the chef was relieved to see that once again their food store had been spared a raid by the bottomless stomach of their leader, and set about picking out ingredients for the day’s meals. Of course, there was no point starting on breakfast until there were others to eat it, but the experienced chef knew better than to leave things to the last minute regarding the daytime’s dining. With an appetite as large as what he would be needed to fulfil, this cook needed to give himself a little head start… |
((If people enter the dining area, you can sort of assume that Sanji will ask you what you want for breakfast, and I'll try to work that into my next post.))
