Jeanie walked as briskly and quickly as she could without going into an all-out run.

Had this bear-man-creature-person-thing lost his-or-its gods damned mind?! It had *JUST* gotten kicked out of the ball for causing a scandal, and here it was, neck-deep in starting ANOTHER one!  

There were the masters of the home, and then [i]THERE WERE THE SERVANTS[/i].  There would be [i]CONSEQUENCES[/i] for failure to avoid fraternizing between the classes! Big ones! The kind people could talk about for centuries, and here he was, big as a damn barn, being all up-front and personal, when he *NEEDED* to be discrete, and put on the air of station His Majesty sorely needed from him right now!

--WANTING US TO DINE WITH HIM!?

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Her skirt whisked and rustled. Her knuckles where white and clenched on the hems, to avoid tripping.  With a sigh of relief, she entered through the servant's door into the kitchens at long last.

"Took you long enough Jean."

That was Rupert, the sous-chef. Alfonse, the head chef, was busy manning 4 pans over the hearth, two containing delicate cream sauces, one containing a reduction glaze for carrots, and the third simmering a rich red sauce made of tomatoes and basil. The smell of fresh garlic bread radiated from his direction.

"No time to chat mister! Are those noodles ready yet or not!? The white-sauce is going to separate at this rate-- If you overcook those noodles, so help me--"

Apparently, Alfonse was feeling saucy in more ways than one.  Jeanie watched Rupert fish out a piece of bow-tie pasta with a fork, then press it against the cutting board, before biting on it. "Still a bit too al dente." 

"And the linguini?! Surely that's ready!"

Rupert motioned Jeanie toward the scullery. "Go make yourself useful Jeanie-- I've got my hands full out here."
"And even more full if he doesn't stop talking!" balked Alfonse.

She complied, though she was even more worried about the "bear" situation, now more than ever, seeing how busy the kitchen was. Alfonse was not really a tyrant-- He just ran a tight kitchen. Rupert on the other hand, liked to take things a little easy, and sometimes quality slipped a bit. They actually worked well together, and could coordinate large meals if they stayed focused. The issue was that Rupert's more laxidastical (Though he insisted it was "practical") nature tended to make him want to gossip and talk while he worked. 

"Ignore him Jean-- He's just salty about the fish."

"What fish?... Was it salmon?" she asked, suddenly reminded of the bearman saying he could smell it being cooked all the way from his room.

"It... It was actually. It's what has us behind on serving the next course-- Had to actually FIND one in the ice-house, chip it out of the block, thaw it, and then try to do our best with something that we didn't know we even had in storage. Alfonse was FURIOUS!"

"STILL FURIOUS!" the man in the white chef's hat raged, while peeking inside the oven. "The bread is GOING TO BURN! HURRY WITH THAT PASTA!"

"Well, he's gonna LOVE this then--" started Jeanie as she called through the scullery door, while marveling that the bear had somehow actually been right about what had been cooking in here. She was pumping water into a large bronze tub used to scrub pans, while reaching for a scouring brush. "--You know Mr Tall Dark, and Hairy?"

"What about him?"

"HE GOT KICKED OUT OF THE PARTY, So that's One less mouth demanding impossible things!" balked Alfonse "FOR FUCKS SAKE, Stoke the fire a little or something!!"

"Alfonse, Do you want the noodles cooked properly, or overdone? Make up your mind."
"PUT A LID ON IT THEN!"

"Don't be so sure about that." cackled Jean. "I barely caught him before he could escape the grounds, and led him back to his room-- He wants to have dinner served [i]There.[/i]"

"OF COURSE HE DOES!! ALL OUR STAFF OUT THERE ON THE FUCKING FLOOR, AND HE WANTS US TO DRAG HIS MEALS UP FOR HIM ON THE FAR SIDE OF--"

"--With us."

The sound of bubbling pasta water, simmering sauces, and the very quiet sound of soap bubbles popping dominated the room, as far as Jeanie could tell.

"... What do you mean-- 'with us'?--" Ventured Rupert, suddenly very eager to test the pasta again.

"... I uh.... Might have let it slip.. that we don't normally get any of the food we cook or serve.." she said, getting red-faced, and doubling down on her scrubbing.

"And?" he demanded, before biting a bit of thin noodle, and deciding it was actually ready, taking it off his own hearth with pot-holders and over to the drain to strain them. "That's hardly anything controversial-- Why would he care?"

"ABOUT FUCKING TIME!" bellowed Alfonse, who elbowed Rupert away from the noodles the instant they were in the strainer, stealing it away with him and back over to where his delicate sauces were in danger of browning if they didn't get served in the next few minutes.

".. Apparently he does--- VERY STRONGLY." she groaned, then dunked the large roasting pan she had been scrubbing into the rinse basin. "He says to bring up any 'leftovers' to his room, and to bring plates for ourselves-- insists that he wants to share with us, and will be insulted if we don't"

"LIKE FUCKING HELL!"

"So, who do think we should send, Jean?"

"I have no idea, Rupe."