[center][hr][hr][IMG]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Lionel%20Wickett&name=AKENATEN.ttf&size=65&style_color=9C6F6F[/IMG] [hr][b]Location:[/b] Room 9[hr][/center] And just like that, Camilla was whisked away to do who knows what for the Captain and First Mate leaving rich, old Lionel to figure out how to do everything involving the actual cooking himself. Sure he'd never cooked horse meat and there was a tā mā de dūn of the stuff to be dealt with, but how hard could it be? Well, first he'd need to season the meat with some S&P, then tenderize it and chuck it into an oven/onto a grill. But how much should he prepare? And which method should he use? Well there was way more here than the crew would be able to eat, no matter how hungry for actual food they were. Maybe next time he was in the the chance, he could pull out some cash from his personal fortunes to set aside for a dedicated Real Food fund. Even if it was just a bunch of cans of soup. Anything was better than those "rations." When Pearson chimed in, Lionel's first instinct was to tell him to piss off, but his rational side stopped him from saying as much. Given the sheer size of the task and his current condition, he was in no position to snub any offers for help. [color=9C6F6F]"I would not dispute a bit of aid,"[/color] he conceded, firing up the stovetop. [color=9C6F6F]"To start, you could help me find some of the 他妈的 cookin' implements. I wouldn't be surprised if we left everything out in the Black. 'D hardly be missed."[/color]