callmeemily | you teach me squid i teach you bread (jason)

Entry tags:

jason,
the bakery

you teach me squid i teach you bread (jason)

Things she probably should have thought about: the fact that they hadn't discussed what they were cooking, the fact that she probably wasn't even allowed to use this kitchen, the fact that she'd sort of... not <i>avoided</i> him, but she'd missed him the last couple of days and she didn't know if that was because she left the dog too early or what and she didn't actually have a way to see if he really wasn't busy, and...

Mostly, Raleigh's worrying because she can. Because there's not a lot else to do besides make sure she looks decent (she does; she even put on makeup (gasp)) and that she's not looking creepy. The bag of simple groceries is already inside because she decided that she could teach him how to make beer bread and honey orange butter and she'd make some of the best scrambled eggs ever, and that would be a plan. It would be a dinner, even. Of course, this meant that it wasn't a date. It was a <i>lesson</i>.

Totally different. Completely different.

Maybe.

For all she knew? He was married. Or gay. Or gay AND married. They hadn't really talked about it, and she didn't really know if she wanted to talk about it, and that's why she's got flour, butter, sugar, a pack of cheap beer, eggs, honey, creme fraiche, and chives. Because she's going to teach him how to cook, and then that's that.

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Jason actually cleaned up a bit. Well, he showered at the cabin this morning then wound up working in the community garden because he can't sit still for an entire day. At least working in a garden is nowhere near as gross as on a fishing vessel. He had enough money to buy Alfredo treats from the pet shop earlier and leaves the dog in the cabin, making up to his abandoned whimpers with the treats.

The cabin is about a ten minute walk to the bakery and Jason's there right on time. Seven o'clock. Sunday. He's hoping the clock on the city hall building is accurate because his watch died a long damn time ago. He knocks on the bakery door because, well, he's not even sure if he's supposed to be here so he's definitely not just walking in.

Raleigh moved over to the door and unlocked it, moving out of the way that he could come in - and honestly, she was a little relieved that there was no Alfredo, because she didn't think she could explain away dog hair no matter how hard she tried.

"Hey!" She's a little too loud (she thinks), and that's why she blows out a breath while she locks the door. "Locking it just so nobody comes in trying to buy things, not... like. Captive cooking lessons. Just so you know." It's just a flip lock from the inside, not a key. "So I know we didn't talk about it - have you had dinner? Because sort of the best way to actually learn is to make something to eat." She smiles, and then finally finally actually relaxes, because her spiel and the issues she'd had on her list of things were covered, as she lead him back to the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. "How're you?"

Jason steps into the bakery, taking a look around. It's his first time in a place like this, so he's curious how it functions. It's especially weird being here with no customers around.

"Well I hadn't thought about captive cooking lessons, but now you got me wondering," he teases. He's following her through the bakery and only then realizes he hasn't eaten since he woke up this morning. "I'd be more than happy to taste test anything we cook. I'm good. Built some things and gave Alfredo a bath. Pretty relaxing Sunday, actually. How bout you? Busy day?"

It's what Raleigh just sort of considers a normal bakery. It's got a bakery case and a stand-up fridge that's holding cakes, and a bunch of little bistro tables. She leads him back behind the case without even thinking it could seem weird (and the fact that all of the lights are off could be a little weirder) but when she opens the door that's marked Employees Only there's actual lights on.

It's a kitchen - medium sized for a commercial kitchen, big for a regular one. It's got ovens taller than he is (and a stepstool because Raleigh's 5'2" on a good day.) There's regular mixers (Kitchenaid), and some big ones that are bigger than Alfredo - but everything's spotlessly clean, and stainless steel.

"Wondering? About what they'd be like, or if I'd actually lock you in here with me?" She smiles at him over her shoulder, and when she gets into the kitchen she leans against the counter. "It's good that you're hungry - we're making dinner. You're making bread." She says it with a smile and raised eyebrows, the sort that say Just try and protest, because she knows he can do this - it's the easiest bread you can make.

"You need a relaxed Sunday," she says with a nod. "Especially given what you do the rest of the time." He's got the hardest job of anyone she's met - not just because it's physically demanding, but also because it's just dangerous. Straight out. When he asks her about her day, the smile fades a little, but she shrugs.

"Long day. We're catering part of this event thing tomorrow, and so it's a lot of prep work." As well as her normal job, and the fact that he had to pay her overtime apparently meant that she couldn't get more of her coworkers in, so it'd been her and one of the two prep cooks trying to get everything squared away. "But hey, that's all settled, right? Day's done, we can move on to making us some supper."

He follows her to the kitchen and he's kind of slightly in awe. Everything's nice and shiny, completely opposite of the kitchen on a fishing vessel. Hell, it was a good day if fish guts weren't on the floor. He watches her closely as she gives him a "I dare you to try to get out of this one" look and Jason has to smile at that.

"I'm starting to feel like you're feistier than you initially led me to believe. Locked in a bakery until I make bread?" he grins. "Alright, I will totally make the bread."

"The ball? Eli Dixon, don't know if you know him, but he mentioned something about that to me. Some big celebration."

It's all nice and shiny and clean because Raleigh's a stickler for it; you can't have food that you sell in a place that's not clean, for her. It's useful because it means she knows how to make things clean. She knows, and does it, and while she's not a neat freak in her normal life, when she was cooking with her mom she definitely found the good use of lye, hot water, bleach, and elbow grease.

"How feisty do you think that I am?" Her brows rise, like she's trying to get an answer. "I mean, so I can tell you if you've over or under shot the mark." She smiles up at him, and it's just a split second but her eyes flick to his mouth and then she turns abruptly to unpack the groceries, talking to him over her shoulder.

He could be gay. Or married. Or not interested! Not interested was totally valid and usual and normal and honestly, her life is way too much of a train wreck to be thinking of what sort of smile Jason has, and how feisty he thinks she is. Locking him in with her until he bakes.

"I don't really know anything about it," she says after a second. "And I don't know Eli, but that's good. We've been working on prep work for a while, the walk-in's pretty much full of dough." She pulls out the pack of beer, and waggles a can at him. "We're making bread with this - means there's five cans free, if you want some?" It's shitty beer - cheapest she could find - but it's beer all the same.

Jason leans back against one of the counters, smiling at her reaction. Yup, definitely feisty. Maybe even a bit sassy. "You just looked at me like you dared me to say I won't be able to make bread before you even told me I'd be making bread," he grins. "Pretty feisty in my book."

His eyebrows raise at the beer. "You...bake bread...with beer?" He's not going to complain, not at all. He happily takes a can from her, not even bothered it's the cheap stuff. Hell, this was a treat. "

"You bake bread with beer." She grabs one for herself - she'll be careful she doesn't drink too much, but she nods to the shelf over her head since she's making sure to reaffirm to herself that this? Was just a cooking lesson. "Grab that black box looking thing, will you? It's a scale, and we're going to start you making bread in like two seconds."

She's pulling out ingredients and bowls and utensils. "Fresh bread, the best scrambled eggs ever, and flavored butter. I know it sounds like breakfast, but it's dinner, and it'll be great. Sound good?" She pauses, and then actually smiles at him. "Maybe I did dare you before I told you you'd be making bread. Maaaaybe I did. But I was right, wasn't I?"

"See? Feisty." He grins, but does as he's asked, grabbing the weird scale-thing from the shelf and placing it on the counter by the bowls and ingredients she's gathered.

"Flavoured butter exists? That's...an actual thing?" He sounds in awe, like this is magic. Pure magic. Screw what his family thought magic consisted of, it's flavoured fucking butter. "I want that. I want all of that." It seems a lot less like 'begging' because he's helping her make something, and he's actually looking forward to their dinner. He gives her a nod. "You certainly were right, Raleigh."

She actually pauses when he says her name - like, halfway through the motion to put the honey on the counter, she just stops, and she pulls in a breath.

God help her, she knows she's not supposed to have told anyone who she is, but somebody knowing, it makes her feel like she's still alive. She's been this blob of nothing for so long, she's needed this.

Raleigh sets down the honey after a second, and nods. "It's going to be great," she says with a smile, and she doesn't have the recipe written down, but she's going to tell him what to do while she chops the butter. "Okay. So, first thing you want to do is pre-heat the oven - 375, it's behind me - and then we're just going to weigh the flour. It's self-rising, so this bread? Literally flour, sugar, a little butter, and a can of beer. The end, and it'll be bread once it bakes."

She starts cutting the butter into tiny cubes, and she shows him how to weigh the flour - 360 grams - and she looks over at him. "Where were you before you were here? I mean, if you don't mind me asking. Did you come straight from Alaska?"

He sees the way she reacts to him using her name, her real name, and he's pretty sure he'll use it again. Jason doesn't know her story, but names are meaningful. So he'll use her name anytime he can, keeping to Emily with other people around, of course.

Oven. He knows how those work. "Got it." He flips the oven to the the setting she mentions as she rattles off the bread's ingredients. It certainly sounds easy enough. He weighs the flour, paying close attention to getting it right and shrugs. "Before here? A drifter. I've spent the past, I dunno, five years floating from state to state. Before that? I was in Alaska, working boats and fighting. Not like...for fun. For money."

She doesn't comment on it, but she needs it; she needs it, because when you're not a person for that long... it starts to chip away at what makes you, you. Raleigh doesn't know who Emily Watkins is, but she wonders sometimes if she's more her than she is herself, now.

"Add half a cup of sugar," she says nodding to the bag - all of the ingredients are going straight into the loaf pan that she greased after explaining what she was doing. "And then a full can of beer, then mix it with a fork."

She thinks about what he said for just a minute. "Was it good money?" It's a weird sort of question, maybe, but she's genuinely curious. "And did you get hurt?" More than just bruises, anyway.

He follows directions well. When work was hard to come by, you make sure of that. Contractors and captains are always more willing to keep someone around who follows directions without an attitude. Jason adds the sugar and beer, mixing everything as he's instructed.

"Pretty good, yeah. Better than most blue collar jobs I had." He nods, but doesn't look at her. He went to bed sometimes a bloody mess, only concerned if he can get up and do it all again the next day. "A lot. But it was worth it to me. I was young, needed money, and more than a little angry at the world so," he shrugs, "it was worth it."

She nods. "I get it." She takes a peek at the bread, and sprinkles in some tiny butter cubes, then nods to the oven. "That's it, it goes in for about an hour, and then we have bread." Seriously, it'd turn itself into bread. Like magic.

"You do what you need to do. Both... for money, but like. If it worked for you?" She's not judging. She can't, considering the jobs she'd worked trying to help out her mom. "More power to you, you know?" She gets, too, the being angry at the world thing.

She gets it, and honestly, she's felt it here more than anywhere; it sucked when her dad left, it was worse in the cellar - she'd thought nothing worse in her life could ever happen, but this... this being here, being trapped here... she was pretty mad at the world, but there was nothing she could do. "Why'd you leave? Alaska, I mean." She paused. "And.... you know you can just not answer whenever. Or- or I mean, you can just... ask me whatever, too."

She dumps the butter into a bowl, and grabs a grater, handing him that and an orange. "Just grate the orange peel - I know it's weird, but when you get to the inside part, stop and grate a different part, okay? And be careful not to grate your fingers."

She's cracking the eggs into a bowl without even thinking, the motions smooth and simple - and she's planning on making a lot of them, because considering what he does for a living, she knows he can probably eat a lot.

"That's kind of the attitude I've kept. As long as you're comfortable and feel safe, take whatever job you need to keep yourself going." He places the bread into the oven and closes it, wiping off his hands with a cloth and looking at Raleigh as he sets to work on the orange peel. He feels comfortable talking about his past. Especially since she obviously won't judge him for any of it.

"I'm definitely willing to talk about myself, just people typically never ask a drifter questions." He twists the orange, peeling a new spot. "The fighting got me in trouble. It was illegal and I fought for an underground betting ring. Cops found out, raided the place, I ran. Haven't stepped foot in Alaska since."

"Shit," she says softly, her brows furrowing together. "That... blows. I mean, obviously, but..... shit." She shook her head. "Did you fight anywhere else? Or was it just keeping a roof over your head and yourself fed?" She gets that, too.

She puts most of the butter into a bowl where she starts to cream it with a fork while he zests the orange, looking over at him. "You know I don't just think of you as a drifter, right? That you're way more than just that?" It's important for her to say so, because she's in that same vein; she hit rock bottom when she realised that she was nothing as a person, just that she could bake. That's when she got out of her bubble and started reaching out.

"You're a good person." She says it with absolute conviction, and she measures a tablespoon of honey to put into the butter, using her fork to combine the two, then when he's done zesting she hands him the bowl and the fork. "Keep mixing it together - use the fork to smoosh the butter against the bowl, and I'll chop this a little smaller, then we'll add it to the butter, too."

"Before that I boxed. Kinda why I was good at winning. But yeah, I was good at it and it put a roof over my head so ta-da." He smiles. "I haven't fought since, but Eli did tell me there's a gym here and I can probably get back into boxing if I want."

He stares at her for a moment. She doesn't think of him as just some drifter, a face with no name and a sad story, a face that'll disappear when the work here dries up. And now he realizes for the first time, Jason hasn't constantly thought about when he should hoof it and move on to the next town. He's met people here, nice people, who don't pity him but instead are trying to get to know him. It's a bit disorienting, but he's not against it.

"You're a good person too." Jason turns his attention back to the butter, pressing the butter to the bowl as she directs him to. "You said I can ask questions?"

"It's got to be hard, to have something- god, just taken away from you. Not that it's necessarily what you want to do, but... you should do it, if you want to do it. I know that seems sort of-" She's mincing the orange peel without thinking, and the kitchen is starting to just now smell like baking bread. "... Trite, I guess, but if you still want to box... do it. Go for it."

She reaches around him to sprinkle in a good teaspoon of the orange bits while he's mixing the butter, and she rolls her shoulders into a shrug. "I'm a person," is her answer to him saying she's a good person. She doesn't feel like it, because she keeps lying to everyone, because of a lot of reasons, but she nods. "Yeah - whatever you want. I'm an open book." She flashes a smile, and grabs a whisk to lightly beat the eggs. "Ask away."

"I think I'll check it out. It's a good stress relief and it'll definitely pass any down time."

Raleigh may think she's just a person, but here she is going out of her way to teach a homeless guy how to bake and she's making dinner for him. She's also taking the time to talk to him and get to know him. That's a pretty good person in his book. "Same rules. You don't have to answer if you don't want, or can't. Why move to Siren Cove?"

It's weird - she's known him for a week or two, and he's certainly the person she's talked to the most; he's the only one who knows her real name, and the only one she's ever taught how to cook and she's in love with his dog, but she doesn't actually consider him homeless. She doesn't even think of him as that way, but then again... she doesn't think of herself that way, either. Because he's got the cabin where he's staying, it just doesn't even enter her mind.

But the question he asks - she should have expected it, should have guessed that it'd be about how she got here, so she just sort of... pauses. In the middle of whisking, she just... stops, for a second, the way she did when he said her name.

"I didn't." She swallows thickly, and she doesn't actually look at him as she stares down into the bowl. "You can't tell anyone." it's important, that he doesn't tell anyone, and that's when she looks over at him. "Okay?"

It's only when he agrees that she continues. "My dad - when I moved to Boston, he gave me these phone numbers, right? Says if I get into trouble, I should call them, and there was this- This guy or guys or something, they kept following me and the police wouldn't do anything, so I called, and midnight ride with a guy in a pickup truck to who knows where, and then I'm here and he says to keep my head down, don't tell anyone who I am, and he leaves."

She clears her throat. "Can you grab that pan for me?" She nods up to a pot above her head.

Jason stays quiet as she speaks, wondering to himself what the hell kind of trouble her father could have gotten himself into. And she was brought here with no explanations?

He promised not to tell anyone, and of course, he secret is safe with him--just like her name. He reaches up to grab the pan, handing it to her. "Haven't heard anything since?" It definitely sounds suspicious and now he's wondering if she's safe.

She shakes her head slightly. and dumps the egg mix into the pan, moving over to the stove. She's not told anyone, and one of the reasons she's not looking at him is because it's upsetting. Of course it is. "It's- It's been almost six months, and he took my phone, and he said it was dangerous but that I'd be safe here. If I kept my head down, nobody'd find me and I'd be okay, but-" She flicks on the burner and grabs a spatula, because cooking - making eggs, since the bread'll be done in a few minutes - is a way that she can just not actually look at him.

"So yeah. That's... that, I guess. Can you put the butter in the fridge?"

Edited 2014-06-03 19:16 (UTC)

Jason's wondering why on earth Raleigh's told him all this, since it seems like she'll be in danger if this person finds out she's told someone. Then it hits him. Six months in hiding weighs on a person. He's not sure if she's made much of a life here in Siren Cove, but intuition tells him otherwise. Maybe she's started to open up just recently. Or maybe telling someone who might be gone in six weeks will help her get it off her chest for the time being.

Still, he takes the butter and sets it in the fridge. He's really not sure what to say. She's not looking at him, of course she's not, this has to be upsetting to admit. So his next question is soft. "Do you feel safe?"

He was the first person she'd actually gone out of her way to talk to - she'd spent five months barely talking to her coworkers, to the cashiers at the grocery, to people who actually approached her trying to be friendly. Then she realised she couldn't live like that. She couldn't do it - and that's when she'd seen him sitting on the curb with Alfredo.

She's stirring the eggs - they're on a low, low heat, and she's watching them before she adds a shitton of butter - the unflavored kind.

Finally, she looks over at him, and her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and she just shakes her head once before she looks back down at the eggs. No. She's stirring them as she takes them off the heat, holding the pain away from the still on burner. She has no idea what she's hiding from, and it makes this so much worse. Every person she meets could be the one that if they knew her name, or if they noticed her...

"But I make do," she finally says thickly, because that's not what this is about. She clears her throat, not knowing what else to say besides, "What else would you like to know?"

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't break a little at the shake of her head. She doesn't feel safe, how could she? She doesn't even know what she's hiding from. He's thinking that had to be a lonely, frightening six months. He's been on his own since the age of ten, but anytime he felt unsafe, he simply left. Raleigh doesn't have that luxury and doesn't even know why she's here. She didn't have the choices he did.

Jason knows he's pushing now. He doesn't want to push her past her comfort zone, but he also feels an overwhelming need to help her in any way he can. Not because he pities her. He likes her. She's fun to talk to and Alfredo adores her. "What helps you feel safe?"

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