dontgiveafock | [ 001 ] [ Audio ]

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[The feed kicks in to the sound of a man clearing his throat. He seems a little unsure of what he's about to say.]

Hullo, hullo. Welcome newcomers.

[Man, what a classy intro that was. So smooth, Joseph!]

For those of y'that I haven't met, my name is Joe. I man the kitchen here and I'm the one that put together the shit-awful feast you had on your first night here.

M'sorry fer that. At the time I was short staffed, unprepared and tired as fock. The good news, is that I've caught up on my beauty sleep and whatever I make from here on in sure as hell won't suck quite so bad.

Y'can find me in the kitchens more often than not, otherwise, try the bar or out by the lake. If any of you have any cookin' experience or want to help out, I'd more than welcome it. The more help I get, the better yer food is gonna be.

[Silence falls while Joe runs over what he's just said.]

Right. I think that's about it. Come say hello or somethin'.

[Fin.]

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[He shrugs his shoulders.]

Longer than most. Me an' Ni got here 'bout the same time.

As for when that was or how long we've been 'ere? I honestly don't know anymore. After a while the days start to blend and time stops matterin' so much.

[She frowns. Those were not hopeful words. She already had suspected that leaving was not an option but, was not aware that the staff were held to such also.

She decides to turn it back to something more lighthearted and grins wryly at him.]

I was wondering now if these were laying birds, or stew birds. What would you do with the sweaters afterwards?

Do you have dogs with slippers too?

[The smile got a little wider. Yes, she just tried to crack a joke.]

[It's never easy to admit it. Never easy to tell someone that he doesn't know exactly how long he's been in the Keep. Joe had tried to keep count, and succeeded for a time, but eventually it all just got too much. Lose a day here, gain a day there, end up with no idea where you're up to.]

No where to go out there, lass.

[He mumbles the words and moves on to the chicken talk.]

Slippers on the puppies is a question for the lovely Nieta. Y'should go bug her about it. As fer the chickens... Some are for laying, some end up as dinner. The ones that are dinner.

[Joe moves back towards the main bench and leans to catch the handle of one of the larger drawers. Pulling it out, it's jam packed with tiny knitted chicken sweaters of assorted colours.]

We don't waste anythin' here.

[His words and manner almost caused Isabella to reach out and touch him, to give comfort of some kind. Indeed, her hand rose a few inches to that effect. She would not though, it was not her place, and her hand dropped back again to her side as he spoke of the chickens.

Not everything was as she assumed it to be.

She looks down at the sweaters. ]

I see. They would perhaps make a fine quilt, if they were knitted together. Warm, I reckon.

[But, if felt so awkward.]

I am sorry.

[He didn't see her hand move and, at the mention of making a quilt, Joe smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

Y'know, I never thought of that. Quilt might be damn good fer when the colder weather kicks in.

[And shakes his head.]

You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for, lass.

[She frowns, sadly. She noted the smile, but saw how still the expression was in his eyes. ]

I have not learned the art of knitting, but if you would like, I could try and sew them together?

[But, she is sorry Joe. You're tugging at heartstrings she never knew she even had. She falls silent]

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