[color=gold][center][h1][i][b]DELTΔ HYPER[/b][/i][/h1][/center][/color][color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Episode Nine: The Wall of Champions[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color]
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Ava seemed to be enjoying the weather, Chilean Air Force wraparound aviators all she needed. Bea for her part looked to be halfway to misery, with a t-shirt one size too big to help with ventilation and having doused her baseball cap with cold water just prior to the cameras rolling, chinos on both counts leaving the artistry of their cyberlegs on display.
“Beatrix, Ava welcome to Canada!”
[color=#1EFF24]”Hey, look, they’re changing the format.”[/color] Bea pointed to the kitchen as both Carrera Condor pilots waved hello to Aurora, [color=#1EFF24]”We’re getting snacks during the interview.”[/color]
“Hmm, yes, but not quite.” Aurora nodded, handing them an envelope.
Ava read the card inside and looked to Bea, shaking her head and giggling. [color=#7AFFAD]”They want us to make poutine! Okay, I knew it was going to be Canadian themed, but come on!”[/color] Ava chuckled, showing the card to the camera.
[color=#1EFF24]”Aw, shite.”[/color]
[color=#7AFFAD]”What?”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”Cooking and I… it doesn’t mix.”[/color] Bea laughed uneasily.
The camera panned to show a pair of fire extinguishers just out of the shot.
“We've got the fries all cut up for you, but it's up to you to make the gravy and the cheese curds from what we've provided, and add anything else you think tastes good from the ingredients on the table.” Aurora continued, smirking. “Though don't look at that maple syrup....that is for another interview. And just to add to the spice… check the text at the bottom.”
[color=#7AFFAD]”Oh!”[/color] Ava’s face lit up, [color=#7AFFAD]”Well that’s interesting.”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”What?”[/color]
[color=#7AFFAD]”We’re trying Al-Saqr’s, Valkyrie get ours.”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”If Harrison and Nora get sick, we know whose they had.”[/color] Bea snickered.
[color=#7AFFAD]”Kais, Layla,”[/color] Ava whispered loud enough for the camera to hear with a smile, [color=#7AFFAD]”Spicy. Make it spicy.”[/color] She pointed to Bea behind her back as they moved over to the kitchen, the Briton’s intolerance of capsaicin fairly well known.
[color=#7AFFAD]”Anyway, how bad can it be?”[/color] She addressed Bea again when they made it to the kitchen and started going over the assembled ingredients.
[color=#1EFF24]”Six years ago, I went to a friend’s house to watch a movie and we decided to make bread pudding. We ended up burying the baking dish in the garden to cover that up.”[/color]
[color=#7AFFAD]”How? How did you manage that?”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”Grew up in a household with a private chef, that’s how. Archaeologists excavating Highgate will get a surprise one day.”[/color]

What followed was a quick series of cuts.

[color=#1EFF24]”Nonono,”[/color] Bea stepped away from the assistant handing her an apron like he was sick, [color=#1EFF24]”No more layers, I’m boiling in my own sauce as is, I’ll take the splash risk.”[/color]
[color=#7AFFAD]”Man the fryer then, the oil won’t hurt your arms.”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”Fits the spirit of why I got them, actually.”[/color]
[color=#7AFFAD]”Cutting board’s yours too, then.”[/color]

[color=#1EFF24]”Wuust-uh-shuh.”[/color]
[color=#7AFFAD]”No, that can’t be right. You’re pulling my leg.”[/color] Ava shook her head as she stirred the gravy in the saucepan.
[color=#1EFF24]”That’s how it¨s pronounced! Swear!”[/color] Bea stopped dicing a sausage and raised her right hand.
[color=#7AFFAD]”How is it that your people invented English and yet can’t speak it right?”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”Because it’s three languages in a trench coat, taking other languages into a back alley and mugging them for spare words.”[/color]

[color=#7AFFAD]”It’s a Canadian dish, hand me the Molson will you?”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”Were you really going to put Canadian beer into something a Frenchman and a Belgian will eat? Do you hate them or something?”[/color] She sneered dismissively, opening a bottle of Duvel between her thumb and index finger before handing it over.
[color=#7AFFAD]”What’s wrong with Canadian beer?”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”Where do I start?”[/color]

[color=#7AFFAD]”Small batches!”[/color] Ava yelled over the sizzling of the fryer.
[color=#1EFF24]”What?”[/color] Bea leaned over to hear better.
[color=#7AFFAD]”Fry them in small batches or the oil will cool down too much.”[/color]
[color=#1EFF24]”Riiiiight. That does make sense in hindsight.”[/color]

The result wasn’t terrible looking, though Dorian would probably disagree on principle: Golden-brown fries topped with garlicky beef stock gravy, toasted cheese and diced stir fried sausage and a sprinkling of spring onions.
[color=#7AFFAD]”See, it wasn’t so bad.”[/color]
“And you didn’t even need to bury any evidence.”
[color=#1EFF24]”Et tu, Aurora?”[/color]