Kitchen

[Dark Angel, the awesome boss]

This is where the servants prepare meals and snacks for the other dolls. As nobody but them ever comes in here, it's considered one of the safest places to exchange gossip and information.

[Iggy]

Joe was a light sleeper and it didn’t help that his room was next to the kitchen. He heard the scuttling and footsteps that wondered into the kitchen. He was going to roll over to his side. Let sleep take over his weary head once more. It had been too long a day, cleaning the master’s room twice and making sure all the other areas of the house were as clean as he wanted them to be. It all had to be to a high standard. But when he heard that voice echo in the kitchen, Joe sat up. He pulled away the quilt and blankets that covered him from the cold. Even though the house was a nice room temperature. The memories of living in the streets were still vivid in his mind. Like it was yesterday.

He didn’t bother taking a robe or putting on his shoes. That would only give him away from catching who was in the kitchen. He wore a thin white linen shirt with dark linen pants to go along with it. His hair was a bedridden mess. When Joe turned to the kitchen he saw the figure but not the face. Switching on the lights, that flickered awake he straightened himself. “Who’s there?” He said, his voice as tired as his appearance. “Don’t you know what time it is” he chastised, crossing his arms over his chest.

[Iggy]

Joe took in the new figure in the light. It was a boy, his age, he assumed. But not a servant. He would’ve met him earlier as he was partly in charge of the male servants that were around the household. He took in the glasses, not from centuries ago. Carried modernity, like in his time. It was only three years since he was taken to the Dollhouse. And expected not much had changed since then. His brows furrowed changing the curiosity in his expression to a dutiful one.

He walked closer, before stopping in front of the boy. Joe crossed his arms, blue eyes icy. “At 1am? You must be an eager bird” he observed. Seeing the white of his knuckles grip the countertop he leaned back on the island behind him. “Servants prepare the food, and you’re evidently not a servant…I would’ve noticed you around I’d think” he smirked. He walked away to the cupboard which contained the breakfast food, including jams, biscuits, cookies, breads and some assorted pastries. “What can I get you?” He asked with his back facing to the boy. Although it was that time of night, he was a servant before anything else. And he had a duty to perform, more important than sleep.

[Iggy]

Joe didn’t mean to look so menacing. Perhaps it was being woken up after just dozing off that made his eyes more intense. Or perhaps it was just the lights reflecting on them that way. He noticed the unsettledness around the boy. He was going to retort with a grumble about the purpose of clocks. Nevertheless, he knew that he shouldn’t look that way at the boy, especially if he was a Son. He looked away, the tension on his jaw moved as he flexed it. “I’m sorry…sir” he added. “I must’ve misplaced my manners. I shouldn’t treat a Son that way” he murmured. If he wasn’t a servant, the boy had automatically been placed in Joe’s mind as a soon. He wasn’t that dull to not figure it out. At least he hoped

Joe gave a side-glance to the boy, surprised at the eagerness to make something for himself. Usually when he asked, some of the daughters would accept, going quiet and watching him work. But the boy was different, more talkative too. “Please let me” he said, taking the items from him. His hands going over his and softly pulling the items away. Joe looked over at the spread and smirked. He loved peanut butter, and not knowing the boy had found his secret stash only for him. The faded name ‘Joe’ scribbled on the lid.

He had heard some rustling in the night. Thinking it was the rats or other small creatures sneaking around the house. Never once thinking it was actually the boy. Joe opened the bread and took a plate for it. Then continued with making the sandwich. “Toasted or…?” He let the question finish for itself. When the boy told him to go back to see Joe chuckled, but quietly to avoid waking the others. “I’m already wide awake. Won’t be able to go back to sleep now” he smiled, this time carrying a friendly tone to it.

[Iggy]

“If you’re not a servant, I’m afraid that’s the way things are” he smiled to his night companion. “You’ve, well I assume, only been here a short while…” he let a moment pause before continuing. “It takes a time to adjust on the reality” he finished quietly. Not daring to speak the words louder than they needed to. Of course he owed a life to Alistair, taking an orphan from the cold to a warm house. Yet he was a servant, trapped in a servant world with nothing besides duty to the house. In the real world, Joe would’ve been a boxer, like his father. He would’ve seen the joy and pride in his eyes. Until they closed forever. He blinked away the memory, finishing off the sandwich and pushing the plate towards the boy.

He wouldn’t lie, the contact was the most he’d receive since leaving his old life behind. It was different to how he remembered it. The warmth in his father’s hugs. The boy felt cold, a tingling sensation at the touch which made Joe shiver despite the heat from the house. “Do you need blankets?” He asked, changing the topic aloud. “Your hands are cold” he added.

“You like peanut butter too?” He smirked, handing over his stash of it. “Here, call it a welcome gift from me”

Joe shrugged. “Figured if you light a fire and put the bread a few seconds each side, feels almost like back home” His eyes widened when he said this. He spoken of life prior to the dollhouse. It felt almost like he’d done a major sin. Worse even, as if he spat on someone’s food and watched them eat it. He owed to Alistair. The mantra repeating in his mind.

“It’s not your fault. Light sleeper since seven” he murmured, putting away the bread back in the cabinet. He didn’t know why but memories of the past poured into his mind like a tsunami.

[Iggy]

Joe had stolen some glances while he made the sandwich to the boy. He noticed a pain in his eyes, possibly his past? Joe kept his gaze down. Deep in his mind, he knew that it was just the past. It was being somewhere completely new, different. Be it a pleasant or horrible experience, it was still an experience that was hard to get used to.

He smiled, hearing that he was always cold. “I’d still wear more layers…wouldn’t want you to get cold” he said carefully. He nodded at the peanut butter jar. “Of course, I got more hidden around” he winked. It was true, some jars he’d hidden beneath his bed, in some cabinets. It was a bit extreme. But coming from an orphanage where you had to share. It turned into a habit. He shrugged, not really knowing the answer. Instead offered advice. Joe quietly moved to the door of the kitchen, glancing around for any listening ears, before leaning back to the kitchen island. “There are some loose wood boards you can hide stuff in” he murmured. He met the boy’s gaze. “Floor five, right?” He asked. As if he answered, Joe nodded. “Check close to the window, near the bed head” he offered.

Suddenly there was a flood of questions that escaped the boy. He had to blink to process all of them. Joe let a hand run through his mess of hair, stopping on near the back of his neck. He had said too much perhaps, given enough details so Alistair would think a betrayal of his servant. Of the boy he saved from the cold. “Philly…” he said quietly. “Had and no” he finished. Joe lowers his hand back to the kitchen counter. “I shouldn’t say anymore, I should’ve forgotten everything” he apologised. “Will there be anything else you’d like?” He asked dutifully..

[Iggy]

Joe thought that the boy would stop his questions, call it a night and head back. But he didn’t. Part of Joe wanted to shake him, tell him whatever you was saying was dangerous. Another part of him enjoyed his company. He let his eyes cast over him again. The boyish features still on his face, but looked grown up. Like he’d experience things. Joe knew that feeling too. Even though only 18, there were lines under his eyes from restless nights and anger marks on his forehead. Though faint, it was unmistaken that there were present.

He smirked, “Look closer” he suggested. “I can clean up your room if you like” The hint of showing the boy where to find the loose board pieces, if he so wished of course. Joe couldn’t believe he’d do it, yet it was exciting to do it as well.

Joe wasn’t sure whether to respond to the boy’s questions, glancing over at the clock ticking above. It was 2:12am now. He wondered what time he’d be called to in the morning. Sometimes it ranged from 8-10am, but he would always wake up before then to make sure the breakfast preparations were started. “Alistair…this dollhouse is weird” he said slowly. “But I won’t deny that I owe Alistair for taking me off the streets. He reminded me of my father. ‘Monsoon’ Woodward” he smirked at the memory that brought. “This isn’t my home, I know that, but it’s enough for me” he sighed.

Joe chewed the inside of his cheek. “Ring for me in the morning. I’ll get you breakfast and we can talk then…call for Joe” he said. “You should get some rest, or stay here…I can grab a blanket and pillow if you want”

[Iggy]

((should I time skip to the next day? I can post in Greyson’s room if you’d like :) ))