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Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: A feast of pancakes in honour of Shrove Tuesday.
When: Tuesday March 25th
Where: House 51
Summary: Truly a feast day second only to Christmas!
Rating: PG/PG-13 for language if someone gets burned on the stove or hit by exploding magical pancake batter.

He's got a bit more of an idea about what to expect this year at least, but the kitchen still looks like a disaster area. There's milk and eggs and flour in large quantities, as well as oil for cooking, and a selection of sweet and savory treats to go with the pancakes. He's pretty fond of the bacon ones personally.

[OOC: Max's announcement post here ]

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You all as in . . . England? Yeah. I mean, it's a holiday and everything. Some places have races. Growing up we always had pancakes that day.

[Any further exploration of the holiday is forestalled as Jack takes a bite of blini and caviare and stills ominously, face screwing up into a look of uncertain displeasure as he chews slowly and forces himself to swallow.]

Yeah, sorry. Some of the cultural stuff still goes over my head.

[Which was why he needed Jack to tell him these things and hope that he wouldn't be taken advantage of and misinformed. He wouldn't put it past him to prank him like that. He was about to ask why pancakes when he saw Jack's face scrunch and process that flavor.]

Brave man, swallowing that. I'd make a lewd joke, but I think you might just hit me for it.

Smart man.

[Jack reaches for a drink of water, trying to clear the taste out of his mouth.]

Oh, eaugh. Is that actually a delicacy? Like, something people pay ridiculous sums of money for?

Acquired taste I'm told. It's alright, Jack, I know you didn't have the luxury of a brilliant cuisine upbringing like yours truly.

[he grinned, indulgent before eyeing the blini, then Jack, then back to the blini. Something along the lines of are you gonna eat that and his pride about not letting good food go to waste.]

Max's been pretty quiet the past few... weeks? Is everything alright with him?

[Sure there was this party and all, which was a good step, but he suspected there was something else lurking behind throwing the party.]

We're not missing out on something else, are we?

[Jack follows Eugene's gaze for a moment, then rolls his eyes with an affectionate huff, forking up a bite to feed him.]

Yeah . . . I don't know. He has been keeping a bit to himself, though, hasn't he.

[A grin met Jack's interpretation and he gladly took a bite off Jack's fork. It wasn't too bad, but likely not what Jack had been expecting]

I think... [Okay, so it was rude to speak while chewing so he paused to finish and swallow] that he's up to something. Plotting.

God, I hope so.

[Jack worries about all of his friends to some degree, but for Max it always tends to be especially pronounced, especially since they'd found him on the draft having sliced himself to hypotensive ribbons and heard him insisting for days after that it had absolutely been the right thing to do.

Preoccupiedly, he prepares another fork with the remainder of the blini, holding it out in invitation.]

What do you think it is? Force-field? Freeze ray?

Death ray? [He was, of course, entirely joking, but nights watching Dr Horrible wouldn't allow him to let that go by without mention. He made a soft onm sound while he bit down on that last forkful, lingering to grin playfully at Jack as he didn't release the fork from his mouth]

Nah, can't see him with a- hey!

[Jack gives the fork a little nudge, frowning in a distinctly put-out way when it doesn't come loose.]

I need that!

[He just wanted to get Jack's attention, as he'd taken a moment to cut another piece of his pancake and held it up for Jack on his own fork to bite. Sharing was caring]

Maybe not a death ray, then. He does seem withdrawn, though, more than usual.

[As his pseudo-brother, Eugene needed to keep tabs on him.]

Hm.

[He chews the bite of pancake thoughtfully, an unhappy look crossing his face as a new idea occurs to him.]

Trouble in paradise, maybe?

[That mulled around in his head for a moment and he took a look round. Not spotting someone he had thought would certainly make an appearance with food. They'd made cookies together once, that magician and himself]

...You might be on to something. Wow, when did you become Mr Perceptive?

[Jack gives a one-shouldered shrug, absolutely the opposite of happy when it looks like he might actually be right, voice dropping a shade.]

I . . . just tried the think of what sort of stuff's made me do things like that, really?

You'd cook massive quantities of pancakes if I dumped you?

[Which he never really would. They might argue, but they were about as soul-mated as two people could get in one lifetime.]

With your tears as maple syrup?

Gene, that's disgusting.

[Jack pulls a face, kicking his shoe under the table and almost managing not to give away the joke with a premature smirk.]

Everyone knows you use breakup tears in makeshift dirty martinis.

And here I thought it was an integral component of English Breakfast.

[But, mmm, martinis. There was an idea. He'd have to coax Zev into helping him mix a few later on. Though that train of thought reminded him of something.... He gave Jack a serious face, perhaps too serious, as he held up his hand, fingers spread and palm facing Jack.]

By the way, I need to compare something. Put your hand here, like this, against mine.

Ooh, burn.

[He's still chortling when Eugene holds up his hand, and he complies with a curious but affable look, lining up the heels of their hands and matching the splay of his fingers one by one.]

Look, is this the finger length thing? Because yeah, I know-

[A cursory glance at least eliminated one thing, and he smiled to himself before grinning at Jack]

Look, I don't need to compare hands to make that kind of comparison, Jack. Got it pretty much memorized by now.

[However he did fold his fingers over Jack's hand once he'd finished, giving him a brief squeeze before letting go]

And I'm not complaining.

Had a feeling you wouldn't complain about the weakness for plaid button-downs and military uniforms.

[Jack gives a fond, what-was-that-about look, but returns to his pancakes anyway, intent on finishing off the plate before taking a brief break.]

Edited 2014-04-15 04:09 (UTC)

[The smile he receives is as mysterious as ever. As mysterious as a Canadian can be, at least]

Quite the contrary. Just so long as we can both enjoy the view.

[But back to what he had originally been concerned about...]

Haven't seen that Helios guy round for a while, though. Did he get sent back home?

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