come_sailaway | you put your hands into your head

Entry tags:

you put your hands into your head

Who: Ava & Co (Okie!)
What: adjusting back to life on the ship
When: Is it May? Who knows?
Warnings: none currently

i. i want to hold the hand inside you
(around the ship, ota)

Maybe she ought to go back to hiding herself away, dodging the gazes of anyone's path she crosses. Pretending she doesn't exist has always worked as a way of avoiding confrontations that will lead nowhere.

But she doesn't. She figures everyone's defeat is hanging so heavily over them, their ire directed at more obvious targets or inwards. That she won't even have to pretend.

So Ava wanders the ship aimlessly, fingers tracing along the walls, the railings, bopping the leaves of decorative potted plants to the hummed tune of Fake Plastic Trees as she passes by, gently brushing the decorative curtains and watching the fabric swing back into place. She missed this. Missed the place she's made her home. Not just begrudgingly.

She doesn't want to leave. And now has lost interest in helping those that do.

Ava sighs, and leans down to pick up trash out in the middle of the promenade. "Sloppy ungrateful..." she grumbles under her breath, before locking gazes with whoever is nearby. Trying to assess their guilt.

ii. i want to take the breath that's true
(cafe, ota)

About midday Ava ends up at her familiar spot in the cafe, tucked behind the counter. Bash isn't currently around for her to bother and she feels a pang of regret. The last time she came in here before everything went wrong, trying to ask him for help. The way he took it as such a personal burden. She sighs and stirs a splash of raspberry syrup into her too milky latte, and leans against the countertop, expectantly watching anyone that might approach.

"I won't poison you," she promises with a wry hint of a grin.

iii. i look to you, and i see nothing
(library, ota)

Reacquainting herself the corners of the library she likes to frequent, Ava skims through books about weddings, trying to find some sort of inspiration. Everything seems too dramatic. But she supposes simple things aren't all that interesting to write about, and she gives up for awhile.

Pulling out her new ship-branded notebook she snagged from the gift shop, she works on her invitation list for awhile. And quickly realizes that she's running into a problem. Turns out she likes more people than she wants to admit, and she scribbles names out, feels bad, pencils them back in with a frustrated sigh. "This isn't going to work."

iv. i look to you to see the truth
(tommy bahammy, ota)

She's not going to waste her energy hoping for the perfect wedding dress appearing in one of those tacky-wrapped gift boxes, accepts it's not going to happen. Not for her. So she'll figure it out with the resources available. She doesn't mind.

But standing in front of one of the tall dressing room mirrors wearing the nicest white dress she manages to find amongst the racks, Ava looks uncertain. Turning left and right, smoothing out the breezy fabric. And then drapes a white scarf over her head, trying to convince herself that it's fine. It suits her better than anything nicer would, anyway.

v. you live your life, you go in shadows
(dining room, ota)

It's almost always empty in the dining room, so she doesn't worry about having any witness to her stripping a few white tablecloths off the tables. She checks them over from crumbs or stains, holds them up to her torso to consider how many she might need, and then folds them up in an approximation of a tidy square.

Next to come down are some curtains. They seem to be a nice enough fabric.

vi. you'll come apart, and you'll go black
(Okie's room!)

Of course, the only person she really knows with any talent for sewing is Okie. Who has offered her one on one sewing lessons, so she doesn't feel quite so awkward as she shows up at his cabin door. And knocks, waiting hopefully. It's good to check up on him anyway, spend more time together.

vii. some kind of night into your darkness
(the hot tubs, ota)

It's difficult to deny herself the allure of the bubbling heated waters for too long. But after so much built up stress, she goes the extra step to dump an entire bottle of fancy spa oils into the hot tub. The scent of lavender eucalyptus quickly takes over the night air, and Ava looks rather pleased by that development, slipping in and ready to spend the next few hours easing the aches out of her body.

viii. colors your eyes with what's not there
(the kitchens, ota)

She checks out the kitchen one day, when it seems less busy. Ava doesn't know how to cook anything that doesn't have 'microwave 3 minutes' printed on its packaging. But it can't be that difficult, and she's wanting to do something to do that won't get her into much trouble. Macaroni and cheese is a comfort food that she decides to attempt, pulling out a pan and a large pot. She places a block of cheese she found from the shop upon it, turning on the heat. And feels rather good that she thought to put it on low instead of high so it doesn't burn the outside before the rest of it can melt. She's not even sure if it's the right kind of cheese, but cheese is cheese.

Filling the pot with what's probably enough water, Ava puts it on a far too small burner, and dumps in a box of noodles. They're not the macaroni shape, but she's sure they all technically taste the same anyway.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a very very very very very near thing that Darcy doesn't just walk right out when she sees Ava in the kitchen. Darcy knows she needs to apologize the same way she knew she needed to do homework back at school, which is to say she knows she ought to do it intellectually and will still do literally anything other than. You know. Doing it.

That said, she's absolutely not going to the buffet where other people will be and she gets to see just how irresponsible people will undoubtedly be with the diminished supplies. So. If she's eating, she's making it for herself in the kitchen.

She offers no greeting as she enters, headed straight to the fridge, already making mental calculations for her macros when she sniffs the air and...

"Is that an entire block of parmigiano reggianno?"

Her pasta also isn't boiling. And the water almost definitely isn't salted. Christ. Whatever her complicated feelings this is a food crime that the ship can't afford to commit.

"What are you- okay, whatever you're trying to make, will you let me make it? You're going to give me an aneurysm."

"It's cheese," Ava replies stiffly, knowing very well what parmesan is. When it's sprinkly out of a green tube. "From the cheese shop. For my macaroni and cheese," she continues, determined not to allow herself to be chased off or intimidated. The kitchen is a public space, not Darcy's personal territory.

"Which I'm making." Because she knows Darcy is an amazing cook, has tasted the evidence of it, but that doesn't mean Ava is incapable.

She stares pointedly at her not boiling water and gives it a stir to show just how much cooking she's doing.

"Okay- I know, I know, okay, yes, we're fighting and everything, but we literally cannot afford to be wasting food right now, and if you- if the water isn't boiling when you put the pasta in, it's not going to cook evenly and it's going to be gross. You also can't just melt cheese- macaroni and cheese has a cheese sauce, which has other shit like butter and milk in it."

This is somehow worse than Wilson and his pierogies.

"Can you please at least let me help?"

"We're not fighting," Ava insists. "You hate me and keep going out of your way to criticize everything that I do, while I do everything possible to leave you alone. I get it, I suck. I can't do things right. I'm disgusting, my noodles will be disgusting too and that's what I deserve. Can we just skip all that and say you won, okay?" She drops the spoon aside and just looks tired, pleading.

"Butter and milk...?" Okay, that sounds simple enough to add.

"Nobody deserves disgusting noodles," she counters reflexively, but God- okay, they're doing this, apparently.

"No, we're- you honestly look at this and say I've fucking won? You think this is winning for me? Okay- first of all, don't act like you didn't hate me first, I wasn't the one who-" hehe ghosted- "totally fucking shunted me out of your life. I don't even know what the fuck I did, Ava! You just-"

Ugh, this isn't an apology and she knows it.

"I am actually sorry for tearing into you in the waiting room. You didn't deserve that. We were all stressed and I know I made shit worse. And I know you, and I know you're going to keep rubbing it in my face, but I'm still sorry for it."

"You've put a lot of work into achieving this for it not to be winning," she responds, arms crossing protectively over her midsection. "And I never hated you, Darcy. I've hated how you treat me."

She busies herself with looking through cabinets for butter, shuffling through the scarce ingredients. "You've never liked spending time with me, and that's fine. I accept that I'm miserable to be around. So yes, I back off. I give you space. And I've tried to be there the times I noticed you needed it, because I still cared. So to turn it around and say I've shunted you out? How does that even make sense. When have you ever once wanted me around." She shuts the cabinet a bit harder than intended, holding some sort of chili seasoning.

"You can make all the apologies you want, but they're not going to mean anything if you're never willing to forgive me. And making pointed accusations in the same breath is showing me that's not likely to happen. You don't know me, Darcy."

"Oh right, yeah- I invite people I don't like hanging out with to my first Christmas I've ever had away from home. That's a thing I do. That's a sensible decision to make. Deciding ahead of time that you suck to be around sure seems like a convenient way to literally never have to work at any relationship ever."

It's so hard to hold herself back from outright digging into Ava's bruises again.

"No, Ava, I'm not going to forgive you for it. You wouldn't have done it if Undine's corpse had washed up instead of some asshole you didn't care about. The decisions you made kept me from fulfilling my duty to the dead, the only meaningful thing I ever actually do. And above all, how the fuck am I meant to take it when you don't ask one of the resident fucking ghost experts about a ghost issue? Valdis asked me about the ghost situation and she doesn't even like me."

Darcy inhales through her nose, staring at the ceiling.

"I shouldn't have to pretend like I'm fine with you doing something heinous just to keep you around. I'm not doing that. When you know who told me about you know what, I was angry at him too. And honestly, I still am. I'm still mad about it. I can be angry with someone and still care about them. But I can't just be dumped like a used tissue because I'm not useful to you anymore," her voice catches and it takes her a moment to recover, "I deserve better than that."

"I appreciated being invited," she says weakly, but doesn't quite see a group dinner where it'd be impolite to exclude her the same as hanging out and enjoying her presence. "It was lovely." She glances away. "I know you put a lot of effort into it. And I appreciated when you helped me prevent the cake for Fio from being a disaster. And I... appreciated that you didn't outright expose what I did to the room." Even if she's sure it was more Darcy making a point of holding it over her. Even if at this point she doubts much of anyone would have cared. The people that dislike her have other reasons already, and the people that support her already knew.

"But please leave Undine and Fio out of this, I don't like them being used as gotchas against me just because I love them. And you do not know my relationship with Ebalon. We've been sharing experimental theories on magic and science and the nature of reality since the first week I arrived. I've helped him countless times with his own questionable experiments, given him advice to the point he's vowed favors in return. Yes, I wouldn't have done it to others, because I don't know their personal views on the matter. Yes, he was a sadistic creepy bastard. But I knew him better than most." Certainly better than anyone upset on his behalf. Except that his name was apparently Dandelion? And even the Captain agreed it was what he would have wanted. But she knows that argument would fall flat here.

"And no, I still don't think it was okay. The entire thing was reckless and did not go as planned. Yes, the results were rather sickening and horrific and I regretted it, I had to witness him get torn apart and consumed, which I had no prior evidence of that even being a possibility. And I had been working obsessively ever since then to figure out how to fix it. I didn't go to you then because it was right when Izzy vanished, and I figured you weren't taking it well. And it has nothing to do with you being useful. Because I don't like using people or asking for help or placing burdens on somebody more than a decade younger than me when I repeatedly see you suffering for it." She had thought she was doing right by Darcy by not placing another expectation, another way to fail upon her when she had found her curled up crying about it before.

"And I went to Pratt, because he's the one that was with Izzy when they summoned the first spirit and only one that had actual real first hand experience with such on this ship. I kept his name out of it because I didn't want anyone coming after him. Or worse, trying to get information out of him on how to summon the ghosts themselves. But by that time, I also discovered that Crabb had messed up the sigils, and that Bash fucked around with mirrors trying to create an underworld after I told him one didn't exist because of the Captain's lack of belief. That Fio had been having dreams about her friend Sparkles that Friday had warned even talking about could threaten reality because it wasn't even supposed to have a name, found out the Captain seemed to have absolutely no idea what he had even done. Every corner I turned, I was finding out increasingly worse shit with no solutions. And when I tried to go to you to fill you in... you blew up at me instead." A helpless gesture.

"It was spiraling out of control quicker than I could keep up. I was trying to be careful so information wouldn't get out to people trying to destroy the ship instead. On top of trying to recover from how depressed I was from December and everyone coming at me about the handling of a trial I wasn't even alive for. So yes. I know I messed up, made bad judgment calls because I was terrified and desperate, let my paranoia take control so I didn't have to deal with my feelings. And you're absolutely right, I neglected my social life and I didn't even realize how long it had been that I had a normal conversation with anyone that wasn't related to us getting eaten alive until we were all trapped in that room. I didn't mean to dump you, Darcy, I was just caught up in mission mode and forgot how to be a friend. Because I still don't know how to be a good friend." She rubs at her eyes with her sleeve.

"But you never came to say hello either, can't we at least admit that much? And if you're not willing to extend me even the smallest amount of forgiveness for any of that. Then I'm walking out with my bowl of crappy noodles."

There's too much there for Darcy to confront all at once, and it's only the last remnants of her self-control that let her actually shut up throughout it instead of trying to interrupt at any of her points. Better to treat it like an argument with her actual biological dad back home, spend the time she talks coming up with her counters. But Ava isn't a lawyer, she's pretty clearly getting emotional as she talks, and there's an immediate repulsion she notes that comes with it. Prior to her talk with Helena she'd think Ava was trying to get at her, trying to guilt her with it. Why do you always have to assume the worst of everything?.

"My age has nothing to do with anything," she starts, because it needs to be said, "I've been my own mother's caretaker for the last couple of years, I've been shot to death- I had a kill count even before I showed up here. I haven't been a kid since I was fourteen. I don't need you, or anyone, making decisions for me about what I can or can't handle. I've already been put through everything you can put a person through. I am a goddamned cockroach. There's nothing anyone can do to hurt me anymore."

A breath, and then Darcy braces her hand on the counter.

"It's not the outcome I'm upset about. And yes, I used Undine as a gotcha, I'm sorry for that, I'm just... I know nobody else here cares about the dead like I do. But there but for the grace of God go any of us. I'd be this mad if Ebalon did this to you, too. The dead- all of the dead- deserve to rest, and burying our dead is one of the only things that separates us from animals. I'm very aware nobody else gives a shit, and you all make fun of me behind my back for it, whatever. But I'm not sacrificing my principles just because nobody else believes in them. Sure, maybe it's what he would've wanted, but nobody gets their organs donates or their body sent to a body farm because we think they might've been okay with it. I would've offered mine if I'd known. And yes, I blew up at you. I'm sorry, I said shit I regret, I could go back through the messages and apologise for each part if you want me to. But if I don't care about this shit, nobody else does."

God she really can't look in the direction of that sad-ass not-boiling pasta water or else it'll just raise her blood pressure even further.

"I didn't come by either, no. But I'm not in the habit of chasing up people who make it pretty clear they don't want me around. I took it as a hint. I had a pretty short list of people who tolerated me back home, too, I'm not a fucking friend expert. So yes, if it's really that important to you, I forgive you for not being around the last several months," she lies, "is that enough for you to stay?"

Edited 2023-05-14 06:05 (UTC)

"I'm not saying your age makes you incapable. You've been through a lot for anyone for any age, I wasn't trying to discredit that. And I wasn't making decisions for you. It's my own right to only share information with people that I'm comfortable with. You were meant to be included once I had better understanding of the situation, and I tried." But no point in repeating how Darcy went off on her instead.

"Other people care too, Darcy. We just have different philosophies and beliefs. I haven't heard a single person make fun of you for it." But it's typical of a Catholic to develop a make believe persecution complex. And she bites her tongue that she would hypothetically harvest organs from a corpse if that meant saving somebody's life. Except it wouldn't be necessary here. "I'm allowed my own principles too, and I was prioritizing finding a way to free the ghosts so that their souls were no longer being used as fuel. That doesn't mean I think your religious values are wrong, they're just not my own. I can't rectify that."

But she shakes her head at the offer to go through the offending text, she doesn't want a replay of Darcy's insults.

Ava sighs, takes the pot off the burner and strains the water best she can. The noodles look sad and disgusting, but she dumps them into a bowl anyway. Sprinkling the chili seasoning in, she stirs it in with whatever water is left. The cheese looks... not worth attempting to do anything with.

"You have all sorts of people supporting you, Darcy. People that don't just tolerate you, but care about you. We're both really lucky for that, what we have here." There's nobody with more father figures. She wagers that Darcy ranks as far more people's top priority, even amongst their mutuals. Already knows that Darcy has faced little consequence for how she openly treated her. Part of her hurts, knowing that she's not worth defending. But she's also grateful for it, that this situation hasn't been made even messier.

"Yes, sometimes it's difficult to be around you. But I wasn't purposefully avoiding you. Always figured you're fine without me, given you've never asked for my company or help or advice on anything before." And she doesn't blame Darcy for such, when she clearly has far better options. It just feels twisted that the obligation is placed solely on her to make this relationship work against all the pushback she gets for it, that Darcy's excuses are good enough and hers are not. That she has to accept Darcy's half-assed apologies, while being beyond forgivable herself. She can't think of the last time Darcy even came to her first... can't figure out why Darcy is so hurt over something that she's never seemed to value in the first place. Darcy says her age doesn't matter, but all her actions scream it anyway. And so Ava tries to find sympathy, despite knowing she's receiving none in return.

"But if you actually want me to stay." Enough to clearly lie about it. "Then I can. It's been awhile. So we probably have plenty to catch up on."

Edited 2023-05-14 09:55 (UTC)

Darcy rankles at a couple of Ava's points, visibly biting back the urge to correct her. God, is this what it's like arguing with Darcy herself? Fucking Christ. She's only lucky Helena didn't murder her during their fight.

"Pause- I didn't say you couldn't have your own principles. And the Captain has made fun of me for my beliefs plenty. I'm not asking you to have my beliefs, that's not- I just have reasons for why I reacted how I did. And I know I have friends here, that wasn't the point either. I didn't point out that you have friends when you said you weren't good at being a friend, because I know it's different shit."

That's the most depressing bowl of food Darcy's ever seen get made, and that's including the one time when she was six she broke into the kitchen and made 'soup'. Not even salt. God. You couldn't find a better metaphor for their relationship if you went looking. She feels lost as to what to do to even start fixing it. The noodles are ruined, any fiddling with the cheese sauce is rearranging deck chairs on the titanic. There's nothing she can really do.

But again, her stubbornness won't give out. She has to try to fix it, still. Time to try and channel all the people she knows more compassionate than her and hope they've influenced her enough that she has some sort of way out.

"I don't know what to do to fix things between us. But I wasn't lying when I said that shit before I lost my head at you. I do think you're cool. I don't know what I keep doing wrong with you, and I don't like that it's difficult for you to be around me. I'm sorry. We don't have to agree on everything, I just wish we could agree on literally anything."

She sees and appreciates the restraint that Darcy shows, glad that she's at least listening.

"You said we all are making fun of you behind your back, and I was trying to reassure you that I have not personally heard such a thing." The Captain making fun of her to her face is not the same claim at all. "That's what I'm trying to express. That we both have our reasons, but it hurts to have mine dismissed as morally invalid." Especially after bringing her mistakes and regrets forward.

"And yes, I do have friends. I would have never made it this far without them. But I never felt as if you were alone or abandoned or in a position where my presence would positively benefit you. Because of my own fucked up sense of self worth. I've been trying to fix that, not let it sabotage my relationships. But I don't know what we're doing wrong or how to fix it either."

A defeated sigh as she looks into her bowl, poking around unenthusiastically with a fork, and tries a bit. She chews very very slowly, so unhappy with everything about it.

"If you try this, we can agree on one thing," she offers sullenly.

Edited 2023-05-14 11:38 (UTC)

"I was exaggerating," and no it doesn't feel fair that Ava gets to be loose in her meaning while Darcy has to be nailed down to every word, but it's just another thing to swallow in the name of getting along with Ava.

Speaking of swallowing, Darcy looks at the bowl and sighs.

"If I put that in my mouth I'm gonna react to it in a way that's gonna make me seem like I'm doing it on purpose and I'm gonna feel like an asshole. I have a... thing about bad textures."

"Oh," she replies with a small frown. "Sorry, I just... Catch myself thinking that way sometimes. That everyone else feels a certain way about me, that nobody values me or cares what I feel or think. And then I end up... hurting other people when I say things like that. It's just. This thing I'm trying to be more careful about," she admits. But it's true, she tries to pay careful attention to wording for meaning, used to working with scientists and agents who have always been rather precise in phrasing.

"That's fair," Ava relents, taking another bite. She's clearly not enjoying it, but she's resigned to it. "Bill didn't really cook either. Too busy. Between work and... the research. We ate a lot of takeout."

Darcy shrugs, trying to brush it off. Obviously Darcy feels the same way sometimes, but it'd feel weird enough admitting to a close friend, much less someone she was fighting with up until a few moments ago.

"I learned from my family, mostly. My grandma worked as a cook for a while, so we all kind of learned it- mum and I, I mean. And my Aunts too. When mum got injured I had to take over cooking, so either I made something edible or we didn't eat."

Her eyes stay on the bowl for a few moments more before she states- "look- what if I teach you how to make macaroni and cheese instead of just making it for you? You deserve to eat better than sad noodles. You could probably even make it for Peter then or something."

"Nice to have part of your family still with you?" Ava asks.

She hesitates, and then nods. Being taught is far preferable than just having it done for her. Because it is at least a chance to show Darcy that she's open to taking instruction and working together. "I'd like that. Maybe if I get good at it... don't want Peter thinking I'm trying to poison him before the wedding."

"Yeah. Ehn, sort of like that. So long as I'm using what they taught me, they're never far."

Darcy's eyebrows shoot up into her hairline at the mention of a wedding- it's not that surprising, Peter is pretty old-fashioned- before she wrangles them back down again.

"Congratulations to you both. Ehn- the pot you picked for the noodles was a good size," she starts, because when coaching someone it's always best to deliver criticism in a sandwich of compliments, and she picks it up by the handle to wash out in the sink, "the pasta has to have room to move, otherwise it won't cook all the way through. But the burners all do different things- the one you picked is for things that need delicate heat. You want the biggest burner for water."

While she's scrubbing it out with a sponge, she gestures back out the door-

"I'll clean these out, if you can run to the cheese shop and get... mm, look for gruyère, but if you don't like the smell, get cheddar. Parmesan is okay, but you need something that melts easier, or else the sauce won't come together."

It is, naturally, significantly easier for Darcy to be explaining a concept she has expertise in than it is for her to talk about feelings. She only hopes it'll put herself at ease more, make her less cagey around Ava.

She smiles a bit sadly at the thought, wishes she had anything more of her parents to carry on their legacy. Beyond her father's paranoia and grudges and his life work leaving her broken. But she doesn't think Darcy wants to hear any of that.

"Thanks. It's... you know, the sort of thing I used to consider frivolous and not for weirdos like me. But it's nice, to have something to actually look forward to." She frowns, remembering how awkward it was for her at 6's birthday party. At how he came between their fight, which she had been grateful for. But knows Darcy must feel some sort of sting. "But I'm sure he'll come around. After he realizes I'll be fine. If you want me to say anything to him. He's just the one that has to take the brunt of when I'm upset." It's not like she can hide it from him. He knows her far too well.

The confirmation that the pot size was correct is certainly helpful for future reference, nodding along with the explanation. "The only noodles I ever made were the instant kind," she admits, which were far tastier than what she managed to make. She sets her bowl aside, glad to be rid of it. "Why do you have to scrub it?" she asks curiously. "It was just water in there..." okay and noodles, but it had looked clean enough. And they're going to put more noodles in there. She doubts noodle flavor contaminates other noodle flavor.

"I have no idea what that is," Ava replies, curious what gruyère smells like that she must be warned of it. "Is cheddar the orange one?"

"I get it. I should probably be the one to talk to him first," she says quietly. Even if the idea makes her mouth go dry. Hard not to replay that moment of dark wings and sudden movement over in her head.

"Oh- noodles have starch in them that goes into the water while it cooks. It sticks to the inside of the saucepan, and it's like- it's not the end of the world if I don't clean it, or anything, I'm just... fussy."

Deep breath in through her nose, because yes she's French and fussiness about cheese is as ingrained as her leg hair and sense of superiority, but that's just depressing.

"There should be little signs with the names on them stuck into the cheeses. Don't worry too hard, message me if you get stuck ehn?"

"Then I won't interfere," Ava promises. She doesn't like to get in the middle of anyone's relationships, but this is one of those more complicated matters she has no idea how to navigate.

She listens to the explanation about the starches in the water, and nods. "That makes sense. Don't want the extra build up..." she can only guess it'd make the water too thick or the noodles weirdly pasty on the surface.

The cheese ship is rather extensive in its selections, so it'd help to have a bit more of a physical description of what she's meant to be looking for, but she supposes reading labels until she finds the right thing will have to do. "Okay. I'll be back. Is... would you like me to get anything else?" she offers. "Bottle of wine?" She's pretty sure that's a cheese and pasta essential pairing.

Right, October Ava caught her... Darcy swallows, answering- "Oh- ehn- only if you want some. I shouldn't... I told Skulduggery not to get me alcohol if I ask."

She follows quickly with- "but thanks for offering, I just," a vague gesture with the sponge, "shouldn't."

Darcy probably sounds like a square, but it's not like Ava has any illusion about her character to begin with. Being a square is probably the least bad thing Ava can think about her right now.

A small shake of her head, Ava doesn't even particularly like wine. Or at least hasn't found one she didn't think tasted repulsive. It's not like she's tried too many. "Then I'll refrain from offering again," she replies simply. Everyone has their personal reasons, so she doesn't bother nosing at Darcy's why she shouldn't. If there had been a specific incident or just a realization she didn't quite enjoy the way it made her feel.

"Not my favorite either." See, they have something in common.

She sneaks out of the kitchen despite a cheese mission being an unnecessary use of stealth. But she doesn't want to run into anyone else along the way and get caught up in some annoying confrontation, and leave Darcy waiting for longer than reasonable. Things are going okay for the moment, and she doesn't want to further offend Darcy by wasting her time.

There's far too many types of cheese to search through though, and they all smell varying degrees of a little funky. Not at all like the packet that comes in the microwave mac bowls. But she manages to get a chunk of the gruyère, looking rather pleased with herself when she returns. "Et voilà, c'est le... cheese."

"Thanks," Darcy acknowledges with a nod, "it's kind of gross anyway, yeah."

Ava leaves, and Darcy pauses scrubbing just long enough to catch her breath, calm herself down.

By the time she returns, Darcy's finished cleaning out the saucepan and managed to rescue the pot with the chunk of Parmesan in it- the cheese itself receives as close to last rites as she can approximate considering the circumstances and how much she wants to be giving some cheese a funeral. Ava's re-entry earns her a bit more of a smile, and Darcy peers with some interest at the fact Ava picked the gruyère. She's about to explain that it doesn't taste as strong as it smells when Ava busts out the broken French, and on the coin-flip between laughing and crying Darcy laughs, screwing up her face a little.

"You nearly got it- c'est le fromage. I keep forgetting how much I miss hearing it. When I went back in my memories it all... auto-translated. It was so weird hearing my friends speak English."

Darcy takes the cheese and sets about peeling the rind off.

"First thing- ehn, chemistry question. Oil and water- do they mix?"

What Ava attempts is fromage. What comes out, again, is a French-accented "cheese?" Her nose scrunches up. "Cheese," she tries again. And then sighs dramatically, tossing her hands up in defeat. "It's like Hollywood movies, you know?"

And then watches in fascination at the rind removal. That's definitely a step she wouldn't have considered. "Why does cheese have skin..." she asks more rhetorically than anything. Because it does look way more edible without that dry crusty looking layer.

"Of course they don't. Water is polar and oil is not. So they repel."

"Oh yeah, it's so weird. Guess the Captain can't afford subtitles, ehn?" she jokes, "which sucks. I have like, half my swearing vocabulary. Cunt and cunt both just end up sounding like cunt."

Darcy flips a piece of rind between her fingers, far more comfortable to be talking shop now, explaining-

"I'm pretty sure it's to keep the cheese protected while it's aging. So it doesn't go bad or have anything eat it. Which-"

She breaks off a piece of cheese, handing it over for Ava to try.

"Cheese is mostly fat. Which is oil. But it also has water in it. And proteins, too, from the milk it's made from. So making a cheese sauce is kind of like a practical chemistry experiment to work out how to keep all the parts together without splitting into the individual components- like the oil separating out, or the proteins curdling. Cooking is basically just chemistry with a bit more room for error. Pass me the flour, please?"

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