every life is a pile of good things & bad things

[thedreamer]

WHO: The Doctor & Ghostbusters Friends!
WHEN: December
WHERE: The Inn & surrounding areas
WHAT: Shenanigans, trouble, bringing joy & confusion, more trouble, culinary delights!
WARNINGS: Will edit as needed.


[ A series of open & closed starters in the comments below. I am super happy to plot something and set up a custom starter if you prefer so please feel free to PM me or ping me on discord @ bluebox#8972 or plurk @ geekorthodox ]

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( closed ) five hargreeves - omelette fines herbes pour deux

[thedreamer]

[ The Doctor's last protracted encounter with his fellow time traveler, Number Five, had been that delightful little Tower with its assortment of charmingly harrowing...adventures. Charming and adventure might perhaps be generous descriptors for what was most certainly anything but a delightful day on the whole. But, a particular and slightly unhinged Time Lord has rather perfected the art of compartmentalization and denial through the long years in order to manage some tenuous grip on his sanity. His grip on it is questionable at times, perhaps.

In the weeks since the Tower, he's been quite busy, of course, and happy to forget certain events ever happened. But they did, and they can't be entirely ignored. Nor can Five. The Inn is a small place, after all, and they're bound to run into one another eventually. While he has no interest in speaking directly about what happened, the Doctor feels he owes his younger counterpart (in a manner of speaking) a token of gratitude. Or a series of them. Why ever speak again in person when one can communicate well enough through written notes and various offerings of food?

The few instances he's glimpsed Five recently from the fringes and shadowed corners of the Inn, the Doctor has - remarkably - taken notice that the younger man doesn't appear to be entirely well. Certainly, he could, at the very least, do with a few hearty meals and tasty delights. Who better to provide?

So as the Doctor busies himself in the kitchen, cooking for their group at large, he takes it upon himself to set aside special meals just for Five. The first day, it's simple enough: a peanut butter sandwich with a few berries smashed down into the peanut butter, along with an extra layer of crispy potatoes that will no doubt be soggy by the time the sandwich is enjoyed. But! It's the thought that counts? The sandwich is wrapped and dropped off at Five's door with a note - Everything in this world is either a potato or not a potato. - All the best, D

The next day - Another sandwich is made, this time some sort of thinly sliced meat and cheese, a pickled something-or-other, more potatoes (though not fried, just salted, boiled, and mashed into the bread), and a condiment he wouldn't be able to name, but would taste like the combination of mayonnaise and cranberry sauce. Another note is left with the sandwich - Always take a banana to a party. - Warmest regards and stuff, O

The third day - He decides to make something on the sweeter side. He's attempting a creation halfway between a muffin and a scone and it only sort of loosely holds its shape as a brown-ish blob. Flour, sugar, cinnamon, ginger, all go into the concoction. He decides to add some salt as well, then more sugar. When he tastes a bite himself, he gags a little at first, adds more sugar to the rest of the mix, and decides that should be good enough. All things are improved with more sugar, after all. So this strange pastry-like blob gets wrapped up carefully but also terribly, and another note is left - There are no apples in this because apples are rubbish. Never forget that. Sincerely - oh fun word! - C

Because the blob isn't holding its shape very well and starts to escape the wrapping - possibly it's not baked through entirely - the Doctor kneels down to try and herd it back in. This means, of course, that if the door is opened or Five might be coming around the corner, it would be impossible for the Doctor to avoid him this time. ]

[somebadnews]

[ It might be obvious to anyone watching that Five hasn't been himself since his sister took a trip through the beacon. After countless hours of obsessing over math and adjusting his plans to ultimately get his family home, he found out exactly what'll be waiting for him if he succeeds. The apocalypse is not only inevitable, but he and his family seem destined to be the ones who bring it on. Now that he knows it was all for nothing, he feels more lost than he's ever been.

So while he can't be the only one blamed for their alcohol supply disappearing, it's fair to say he's been responsible for putting a sizable dent in their supply. Over a year of trying to build back his tolerance in his smaller frame has helped how much he's able to consume at once, and he sees no reason not to continue testing that limit. It isn't the best coping method, but it helps him to ignore most of what happens in the inn.

Food is all but forgotten when it suddenly starts to miraculously appear by his door. Ordinarily he might be more suspicious before he picked up something from the ground with a strange note attached. And he is, but all it takes is the smell of something sweet to notice that he's hungry enough to give in. The tastes don't all go together, but he barely cares what it's made out of, or how easily it would have been to slip him some poison. He saves the notes to decipher later, but by the second one he has an idea of who is leaving them.

He just has no idea why.

The third day he's used to this routine, and it's more than luck that has him opening the door to find the Doctor arranging another item around the time they usually show up. He gives him a long hard stare as he tries to sort out his reaction. ]

You. [ Somehow actually seeing him puts him more on guard. He's seen him cooking, but he hasn't noticed other plates being left, so it's clear that he's targeting him specifically. At the same time... he can't say it hasn't been working. He means to say something sarcastic or biting, just to show how he's not getting away with something, but his mind is blank. Nothing he can come up with quite makes sense, so when he finally asks, his confusion wins out. ]

What are you doing?

[thedreamer]

[ Caught! He might have known it would happen eventually, he'd just hoped it wouldn't happen quite this soon. Still kneeling and trying to...reform the blob into something at least semi-solid, the Doctor glances up at Five with a look that seems to say, Well, isn't it obvious.

Couldn't anyone at some point in their life potentially be caught kneeling down herding wet dough into a basket? ]

Well, at the moment, trying to get this back in here. I've lost control of it. Next thing you know, it'll want a name and lodging.

[ He does finally manage to get it in the basket, and then swipes a finger into the dough, making a face of disgust. ]

Well, that won't do anyway. Not my best work. I'll come back later with biscuits. Are you going to be around? There are parties and things—I have no idea. Things are happening, festive things, busy things, all the things! Just tell me if I should pop back 'round and I will.

[somebadnews]

[ His answer does nothing to help Five connect the dots. Ignoring the offer to come back with biscuits, for now, as he gets stuck on the implication that he'd be going to parties. Or is he only saying that to distract him? ]

And you're delivering these to everyone? [ Then he looks back at the food and frowns. It bothers him on a deeper level to think that he might throw out what he inexplicably brought him. ] What are you going to do with that?

[thedreamer]

[ Sparing a genuine moment of consideration for the abominable dough in all its horror, the Doctor glances down at it briefly before looking back at Five. The Doctor isn't usually one to refrain from bragging about what he's made—even if it is truly awful—but here is a rare moment he finds himself willing to admit this thing isn't exactly fit for consumption. ]

I was going to toss it in the bin, in fact. And no, I'm not delivering these to everyone. You look an absolute mess lately, thought you could do with a bit of...well, care, I suppose. Food, at the very least. You seem to be quite terrible at looking after yourself recently, thought we ought to remedy it! By we I mean me, of course.

[somebadnews]

[ That was a surprising amount of honesty. Five suspected it, but it's brazen to go out and admit what his intentions are. He doesn't know that anything he's done warrants special treatment, and he's certainly looked worse in the apocalypse. Which only leads him to believe it has something to do with his physical age and misplaced pity.

The words are on the tip of his tongue. He isn't a child who needs someone to look after him. He survived alone for decades with less.

Except he can't abide by perfectly salvageable food getting tossed. Someday it's going to get the better of him when someone slips poison into his food, but for whatever reason, he believes the Doctor is genuinely attempting to help. However misguided and unnecessary.

There's a long stretch of silence before he finally replies. ]

Leave it. [ He's no less confused, but he's firm in that request. ] We don't have enough food to let it go to waste.

[thedreamer]

[ The degree to which the Doctor is at all capable of taking care of his own self should rightfully call into question his ability to take care of anyone else or presume to know what's best for someone, but it also never stops him from putting forth his—at times—blunt opinions.

Case in point. ]

If you insist.

[ And leave it, he will, even if by his fairly low standards, the food seems a bit questionable; who is he to judge? ]

Won't argue. There's more where that came from. Well, a bit later. Tomorrow. I'm properly on kitchen duty—bit busy—but you're in need, let's be honest.

[ He should probably explain, but he doesn't (as often happens with the Doctor), that he generally takes it upon himself to look after everyone, whether they've asked for it or even need it, or not. ]

[somebadnews]

[ Five would pick it up, but he twitches when the Doctor insists that he needs meals brought to him. Just because he ate what he left before doesn't mean he would have starved without it. ]

I'm not a child. [ He decides it's worth the reminder before he decides to start a charity for him. Which is a far cry from the accusations he normally gets and a lot less comfortable. ] We shouldn't waste what we have, but I've survived on a lot less. You don't need to turn me into your special project.

[thedreamer]

Far from it, but you're not well. I notice things, you know, many things. Laser-focused, that's me.

[ Laughable and questionable at times, from the man who once took a good thirty seconds to notice Rory had miraculously returned from the dead. In a manner of speaking. ]

I don't consider helping someone a special project. I make it my business all the time.

[somebadnews]

[ He firms his jaw and tries to keep hold of his temper at being called not well. He's been cursed, had parts of his memory erased, lost his family again and again, and has another apocalypse waiting on him even if he survives this zombie nightmare. And so what? Everyone has problems. ]

It isn't. [ His business. Despite how easily he swallowed down his other deliveries. He just needs to work on drinking in his room and not stumbling around the hallways, giving people the wrong impression. Which he wants to clear up right now. ]

...I'm fine. Practically on vacation. [ He would stop there, but there's something else bothering him. ] Whatever it is you think you owe me, I don't care. You've got nothing to make up for.