[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=sienna]Gilbert[/color] & [color=indianred]James[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img][/img][hr]
[b][color=dimgray]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Kitchen House) 
[b][color=dimgray]Skills:[/color][/b] [color=sienna]Cooking[/color] [hr][/center]

	The operation was backlit by oil-filled hurricane lamps, casting eerie, flickering shadows of the two figures within the room. A central countertop was utilized as an field of operation, strewn with jars of powders and liquids of differing viscosity and color, indicating a fairly amateurish and disorganized bent to operation proper. From underneath a makeshift surgeon's mask fashioned from a burgundy linen serviette, Gilbert issued his orders with confidence that belied the sheen of perspiration across his furrowed brow. 

	[color=sienna]"Hand me the yellow powder. Stat. No, the other one."[/color] 

		James stood on the other side of the counter, the bandana that was usually around his head likewise being utilized as a mask. He lifted a sugar jar full of a pale gold colored, granulated substance which elicited a confirming nod from Gilbert. The uncertain blackneck halfheartedly raised his other hand to his bandana, tugging on it lightly. [color=indianred]"Uh, Mr. Hat sir? Why the ass we doin' this? Is the mask really necess..."[/color] 

	[color=sienna]"Shhh..."[/color] interrupted Gilbert, pressing his finger to his lips over the napkin-mask. [color=sienna]"Keep it on. And try not to breathe too hard. One errant sneeze and this stuff can go [i]everywhere[/i]. Now, pass me the brown one next. Yeeeess..."[/color] Whatever was being concocted in this room, it smelled strongly of butterscotch and cinnamon, with just a hint of vanilla.

		[color=indianred]"You mind tellin' me what the endgame is, here? Ain't we supposed to be handlin' refreshments?"[/color] Of course, James was going to go along with whatever his mentor for the evening had in mind, but this whole scenario struck him as the machinations of a man who was a little crazy, a little bored, or both. [color=indianred]"It just seems like a awful lot of setup for... what're we...?"[/color] 

	[color=sienna]"Punch."[/color] Gilbert let the word hang in the air. It earned him a quizzical look from James, not in part due to the fact that one of the elder beings of in humanity's history, and a brick shithouse strong one at that just eyeballed him and used a word indicating either a classic party beverage or an act of manual assault, a thing which the Emendator was undoubtedly capable of inflicting. James hoped it was the former rather than the latter. [color=sienna]"Now, hand me that blackstrap molasses and the carbonating activator. Quickly!"[/color] 

		James was very familiar with the molasses. Carbonating activator, not so much. In the dim light, he couldn't quite figure out which of the many fluids and solids, granules and syrups resulted in making an otherwise flat liquid bubbly. Though, if he had his preferences, he'd rather just have a Coke and be done with it. His hesitation was apparently not to be tolerated that evening, not when something he was assured was 'refreshment' was at stake. [color=indianred]"Ah, Yo' Hatness? Which one o' these's...?"[/color] 

	[color=sienna]"Quickly, Mr. Grady! Punch is at stake! We must slake the thirst of these young and impressionable local children, and this must be assembled at precisely the right intervals of time."[/color] He pointed at a small jar containing disk shaped tablets. [color=sienna]"Those, James. Toss in three."[/color] The resulting whoosh of chemically promoted air was held down, at least in part, by the sheen of denatured molasses across the top of what could only be described as a thick, glass punchbowl. [color=sienna]"Now, if this was made properly, it should taste like fizzy, liquid gingerbread. It is so much better when you make it with spirits, naturally, but it [i]is[/i] supposed to be for kids. Grab that cart, we'll run this and the other stuff back to the meeting place. But carefully."[/color] 

	Briefly, if but for a second, James wondered what it would have been like if he'd opted out of being a Paradox.