Just Desserts (Logan)

[rhea]

The girl had been at Hogwarts for over a week now, the exact number of days she didn't really think about, but she was beginning to acclimate to life away from home. She'd met a couple of people, very friendly (if a touch eccentric), but it just didn't feel like home to Rhea yet. It was just....missing something. Something warm...inviting...cozy. So, not yet having friends, Rhea wandered around the school, continuing to explore the varied nooks and crannies of the massive structure, when she had managed to find herself in front of a painting she had read about and a smile crossed her face. A single index finger reached up and brushed lightly across a pear, which granted her entry to the Kitchens.

For one to understand why she was happy, plain and simply, was that Rhea had a simple mentality. She believed that no matter one's age, they'd still be friends with the kid that brought cookies. And Rhea just happened to do one better - she made them. Even more than that, she was capable of concocting a culinary cabaret. Though currently, she craved a sweet a little more complex than chocolate chip cookies. After only a moment of conversing with the House Elves, they agreed to allow her a small amount of working space, the boiler pots she needed, as well as the ingredients.

Moments later, she had shucked her robe, put on a clean, white apron and pulled up the sleeves on her thin gray sweater. After sorting out her dry goods, Rhea thought about her hair, and quickly bound it into a tidy ponytail to avoid loose strands in her dessert. The Hufflepuff then filled a boiler with water and placed it over a flame, allowing it to warm up while she filled a second, smaller boiler with a small pad of butter, a splash of black coffee, and a nice portion of finely chopped dark chocolate. Once the second pot was placed into the hot water and the chocolate began to melt, a sweet aroma began to waft about the room, and possibly out into the corridors, all the while she was humming a somewhat famous working song.

[loganross]

<sub>Logan wasn’t exactly certain about what had attracted him down into the cellars; it wasn’t as though his common room was on this level, and the dreary darkness that he generally associated with ‘downstairs’ wasn’t at all too appealing. The hallway was illuminated by a series of torches that cast a dim light across the walls, and displayed patterns that, to him, appeared bizarre and ominous. It was a stark contrast to the bright cheerfulness that the Hufflepuffs - whose common room was located somewhere in the general vicinity - demonstrated on a daily basis. Why their rooms were down here, he would never know (unless he bothered to look it up. The library, however, was not a place he frequented often. It was too stuffy, strict, and noiseless for his liking).

The only possible explanation that he could think of that could have drawn him down here was, of course, the thought of food. Or, more specifically, raiding the kitchens of food. The sixth year ran his fingers absently across the wall as he walked, deep in thought and not really paying close attention to his surroundings. Luckily, his other senses were doing the work for him. As he pondered over the ball that was slowly drawing nearer, wondering about who he should ask, and other general things about it, he caught a waft of some delicious aroma, and like a blood hound on the pursuit, he quickly backtracked a few steps to where the smell was the strongest.

Breathing in deeply and then letting it out in a loud sigh of joyful bliss (the house elves must have been hard at work), he scanned the wall’s various paintings, and, spotting the infamous painting that nearly everyone knew was the key to the passageway of the kitchens, he reached up and briefly tickled the golden-hued pear in the painting. Almost at once a door swung open, and he ducked inside quickly. At the doorway he paused, scanning around the room.

It was relatively busy; elves were bustling around all over, taking trays out of the ovens or stirring soups and other things on top of the stoves. Despite this, though, it was overall very clean. Overtop of the scouring scent of cleaning fluid was the unmistakable, mouth-watering, savoury scent of melting chocolate. Glancing from side to side, he attempted to locate the source, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he saw a girl - a Hufflepuff, he noted - slightly bent over a pot, mixing ingredients as it seemed. Logan frowned a little - a small quirk of the mouth that pulled both the corners of his mouth down - and tried to figure out if he knew her, and if so, what her name was. And why she was here, cooking. That was the elves’ job, not the students’. It was rare, at least in his knowledge, that anyone even bothered to ask if they could cook in the kitchens, let alone be granted permission.

Who was she…who was she…He studied her for a second, then uttered another low note of surprising, mouth forming an ‘o’, as he suddenly remembered. She was the one with the funny accent. Southern, wasn’t it? Yes. She was the only one, as far as he knew, that spoke like that. Rhea. That was her name. He stood there, wavering in the doorway - looking a little foolish, as though he were there without purpose, which, of course, he was - and then with a decisive flick of his hand, he took a step forward - and nearly ran into an elf that was scurrying by. “Oh! Sorry, I--" It threw him a scalding look, and he shrank back a bit, waiting until it had disappeared into the back of the kitchens before coming forwards again. Lifting a hand in greeting, he walked over (hoping that she hadn't noticed his moment of clumsiness) until he was a bit closer to her. “Hey, you’re Rhea, right? I‘m Logan,” he paused a moment before adding, “What are you doing?” His brow was furrowed, as though her being there confused him.</sub>

[rhea]

She had not, in fact, sensed he was in the room when he had arrived, nor had she a clue how long he had been there, and only became aware when he approached her. It was probably a good thing for the boy's ego, because despite the fact she was a klutz herself, she would have at the very least chuckled at him. As she turned to look at him, she noted a few things, all of which were very mundane. He was slightly taller than her, he looked a little stocky, and he had blue eyes.

Rhea had stopped humming when he had approached her, and he broke the silence with a statement that had shocked her a little, "Hey, you’re Rhea, right?" Though before she had a realistic window to answer him, when he finished, "I'm Logan." Smiling at him, she gave a slight nod and a quick wave of her hand before she resumed whipping the egg whites in a small silver bowl before saying (in her thick accent), "Well, yes, my name is Rhea. It's nice to meet you Logan...but if you don't mind me asking, how did you know my name?"

The Hufflepuff had barely had time to sprinkle the dash of sugar into the now foamy egg whites when the older boy asked her, "What are you doing?" She grinned as she looked over to him, not noticing that his eyebrows indicated any sort of scrutiny, and that he was simply just curious. "I hate to give an obvious answer, but I'm cooking. Though I suppose you meant to ask what I was making. And that'd be some of my Chocolate Mousse." There was no tones of sarcasm or notes of any sort of malice in her voice, she had just merely told him what she was doing, while doing it. Looking over, she wondered why he'd come down to the Kitchens, himself, and decided to ask him the same. "So what are you doing down here?"

[loganross]

<sub>His eyes followed the stirring motion of her hand as she continued to whip the bowl of eggs and look up only once to offer a small smile. He edged a little closer, distinct curiosity written on his face. Logan wasn’t exactly a skilled cook - in fact, he was lousy at mixing even the simplest ingredients, and this translated into classes such as Potions, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in it, or in people who had a knack for it. In fact, he had always been somewhat in awe of such people, though of course he wouldn’t admit that. Well, at least, not out loud.

He faltered only a little when she questioned how he knew her name, and then a smile crept across his face and he shook his head teasingly at her. How could she not know that he would have known? Lots of people knew. That thick accent of hers that was present in every word that she spoke (as well as other various things) stood out like a bright beacon to everyone. It was hard not to notice her, and even harder not to know her name. Why she didn’t know that, well, he wasn’t exactly sure. As long as she didn’t think he was some sort of stalker, then that was fine with him. Rubbing the back of his neck - an automatic reaction that he usually responded with when confronted with an awkward situation - he murmured, “Well…I--I just…it seems quite a few people know your name, actually,” He gestured helplessly, trying to think of how to explain himself. “Your accent, after all…” Shrugging one shoulder, he decided to drop it, hoping that she’d be able to understand where he was coming from without being offended in the process.

Cooking. Well, that was a rather obvious answer; anyone could have come to that conclusion. The next words she uttered, though, almost made him go into a state of complete shock, and he had to remind himself that dropping one’s jaw wasn’t the best thing to do as far as first impressions were concerned. However, he felt the sudden need for some sort of support, and yanked a chair away from a small table nearby, sitting on it backwards. Resting both arms against the top of the chair’s back, he quickly forced his paralyzed mind to think of something to say that would be coherent. “Chocolate mousse? Seriously?…” He raised one eyebrow, frowning in a comical sort of way as he tried to see if this were some sort of cruel practical joke. But her face was innocent, pure, and he came to the realization that she was, in fact, telling the truth. Thank the heavens above, and god bless this day!

At her next words, he gave a snort of amusement. “Well, I wasn’t exactly sure how I ended up in here - for food, probably - but now I’m going to assume it was some sort of destiny. I’ll have you know, that chocolate mousse is one of the most heavenly, delectable desserts of this world. And, if I may be so frank, my absolute favourite.” Not only could she cook, but she could make mousse? Definite brownie points. Infinite, even. If you were able to make mousse, it was a sure thing that would Logan would be putty in your hands, a faithful worshipper. He lay his head on his arms, smiling at her in a distant, daydreamy sort of way as he drifted into thoughts of mousse.</sub>

[rhea]

Rhea listened to him as she tested the warmth of the chocolate, dabbing a small bit on the inside of her wrist before pausing, and then turning the flame down just a little bit while he spoke with a large grin across his face. "Well…I--I just…it seems quite a few people know your name, actually," Logan gestured somewhat feebly, as though trying to find his next thought while the girl was left to ponder why, and the reason came flying out of his mouth in just a moment, "Your accent, after all…" The Hufflepuff felt her cheeks glow, somewhat embarrassed that she was pretty much reduced to the way she talked, though quickly a thought voiced itself to try and alleviate the light crimson on her face. "Oh, I forget I'm the one that sounds odd. I keep thinking all of you Brits are the ones who talk funny, heh."

Having laughed a little uncomfortably, she dumped the yolks into the chocolate mixture, mixing it thoroughly when she heard a noise that was somewhere between scraping and that of something sliding across the floor. When she turned to look at him, he had whipped out a chair, and was casually lounging on it, when he asked her, "Chocolate mousse? Seriously?…" It made Rhea wonder for a brief moment if perhaps her accent was too thick to be accurately understood, but dismissed it with a quick nod and a simple response. "Mhmm."

As she began to lightly stir in a scoop of the cream, Logan had answered her question with a somewhat lengthy response. "Well, I wasn’t exactly sure how I ended up in here - for food, probably - but now I’m going to assume it was some sort of destiny. I’ll have you know, that chocolate mousse is one of the most heavenly, delectable desserts of this world. And, if I may be so frank, my absolute favourite. A large grin crossed her face when she heard him talk about destiny, and she let out a light chuckle as the egg whites slowly got folded in. Taking a glance over at him, she chuckled again at his expression, which appeared to her that Logan was deep in some sort of day-dream. Pausing for a moment, she thought about what she should say, and then blurted out what came fastest. "Well at the very least it's lucky...You do get to have some of this mousse in only eight hours," she said, still grinning as she continued, "I'm only kidding. Thanks to the wonderful effects of magic, it'll be ready in oh, three minutes or so."

[loganross]

<sub>He was only vaguely aware of the embarrassed flush of her cheeks as he continued to muse about the heavenly treat that was chocolate mousse, his trance-like expression hazy and unfocused to the wandering eye. After a moment or two, he forced himself out of it, shaking his head lightly as a dog might after coming out of the rain, and then glanced up, refocusing his attention on Rhea. At the mention of the British having funny accents, he nodded absently, crinkling his nose a little - this was nothing more than an odd habit, and one he hardly ever noticed himself doing whilst he did it. “Yeah, I guess we do sound…different. I wouldn’t know, though, since I can’t really hear my own accent.” He punctuated his last few words with a soft bark of laughter, then rested his chin on his arms again, a thoughtful look on his face. It was strange how people could be the same - in a way, at least - and yet still sound so dissimilar at the same time.

Logan continued to watch the girl as she multitasked between their conversation and her cooking, his eyes demonstrating the peculiar awe he had for those who he considered to be chefs. Her next words, though, caused him to snap his head up in alarm so fast that he cricked his neck. Immediately regretting it, the sixth year rubbed it, and studied her face anxiously before hearing her add that she’d only been joking, to which he scrunched up his face in response in a rather childish manner. Oh well, he could forgive her; three minutes was hardly a long time to wait. Almost instantly he felt himself relax, the sudden tension easing out of his shoulders and sore neck.

Tapping out a rhythmic beat on the polished marble floors while he waited for her to finish, he asked lazily in a joking tone, “So, is this what you do when you’re bored, then? Make delicious food and lure innocent bystanders here with the temptation?” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he added, “It smells scrumptious, by the way. I commend your skills as a cook.” It was obvious that he was brimming over with excess energy - he was nearly bouncing in his seat. It may have been somewhat amplified by his blissful state, but he was generally always like this. Hopefully him being so talkative wouldn’t bother her too much.</sub>

ooc; hope that's alright - let me know if I should add more so you have more material to work with.

[rhea]

Rhea took a deep breath, the crimson hue having faded to a dull pink as she focused on the mousse in the making while he spoke again, yet not seeing him shaking his head or crinkling his nose. “Yeah, I guess we do sound…different. I wouldn’t know, though, since I can’t really hear my own accent.” It occured to her the accent was what made things a little odd for her, but more of the local colloquialisms of the place that she took issue with. A series of thoughts which she voiced, though she actively tried to supress her own accent and take on a British one for the duration of the teasing rant. "You know, I think the biggest deal with you Brits are the odd words ya--I mean you guys use. Like trousers and pants, they're the same thing, not two different articles of clothing. And then there's trainers, those are shoes, not someone you hire to teach you how to do something that isn't intellectual. Oh, Mum. I almost forgot about that. Everytime someone says it I think they're talking about a flower rather than one's Mother. But the word that's the worst of all," she said, thickening the faux-Brit accent, which was a horrid impression to begin with, "Is that dreadful thing Brits call a Powder Room."

She smiled as she continued to incorporate the egg whites, stifiling a chuckle when he jerked his head up when she teased him about the waiting time, choosing not to say much since this was what made or broke a good Chocolate Mousse. Before she heard him speak, she got out a clean, more aesthetically pleasing bowl, layering a little of whipped cream at the bottom. “So, is this what you do when you’re bored, then? Make delicious food and lure innocent bystanders here with the temptation?” Rhea, looking over noticed his huge grin, which reminded her of kids during the Holidays, which made her smile somewhat coyly while she spoke "Ah, so you caught on to that, hmm?"

The girl then began to pour the mousse into the second bowl, in the characteristic spirals, stopping about halfway through to layer in a little more whipped cream when he spoke a compliment, “It smells scrumptious, by the way. I commend your skills as a cook.” A small surge of joy ran through her, warming her heart up. It always made her feel better when she was complimented on her cooking, morseo than on any other thing she did. "Thank you. Quickly grabbing her wand, the spun the bowl with her hand before taking aim and muttering a quick spell to put a chill on it, and then summoning a tablespoon from across the room before offering it to Logan, a smirk on her face. "Care to try it?"

[loganross]

<sub>The boy watched her in amusement, one eyebrow raised in comical astonishment as she began a rambling rant about particular words that differed between Britain and America. He’d never really thought too much of it before, since he never travelled much and had certainly never visited the place of her origin, but with the list that she was providing him, it was easy to see how it could annoy someone who were used to different meanings. Once during her little speech, he opened his mouth in protest as though to intervene, but clamped it shut almost immediately, not wanting to come across as rude to her. So Logan waited patiently for her to finish, busying himself by tracing thoughtful little circles on one of the counters with a forefinger as he listened.

When she was done, he glanced up, offering a tiny, lopsided smile. “We’re an odd bunch, us Brits. I suppose there’s not much you can do though, unfortunately, besides putting up with it. Unless, of course, you find the one responsible for changing all these meanings…And…powder room…hmm. What would you prefer to call it? The loo?” He shrugged it off, tapping a finger absentmindedly on the top of his chair. She was moving so swiftly in her cooking that it was almost dizzying, and the sense of awe, which had been present before, returned to him with a vengeance. At her reply about the whole ‘mousetrap’ accusation that he’d made, he grinned and answered teasingly, “See? I’m on to you,” He put a finger to his temple and tapped it knowingly, “I know these sorts of things that you girls come up with. It’s genius, actually. Evil little masterminds, the lot of you. Well, maybe not evil, but, the mastermind thing still counts.”

A moment later, she took up the bowl, murmured some sort of spell - he wasn’t familiar with it - and brought a tablespoon, which had been resting on the counter she’d used, over towards him. With a grin that contained a large dose of smugness, she asked him if he wanted to have a bite of the heavenly delight that was mousse. Eyes wide, he nodded a little, then returned the smirk, muttering, “You know I do.” Inside, he was in a state of delight, his emotions bubbling happily and dancing about in a jig-style, and his mind’s thoughts were doing a victory chant of ‘Hell, yes!’ every five or so seconds. He reached out and caught the spoon, then scooted his chair closer to her, holding the utensil up with childish enthusiasm and waving it in the air.

She held the bowl in her hand, and he peered at it curiously; the mousse seemed to have been almost artfully crafted, like a painter skilfully applying the finest details to one of their pieces of art, with swirls of carefully blended chocolate and cream. “Well, if it tastes as good as it smells and looks, I’ll probably experience ‘death by chocolate’, for sure.” His stomach gave a small gurgle of hunger, and he smiled sheepishly at her, waiting hesitantly. It wouldn’t be nice to just take the bowl, surely. So, he’d wait. Wait for her, at least, until she offered the bowl to him. Waiting, like all things in life, was quite hard indeed.</sub>

[rhea]

Almost immediately, he said it. The one word she couldn't stand. Loo. Just the very sound of it made her skin begin to crawl. It just felt...wrong. Like you were going to visit someone named Louis for something gut-wrenchingly disgusting. She shook her head, dismissing the thought rather quickly before speaking in a hushed town. "Powder Room is more than sufficient."

She comically rolled her eyes as he made mention of her, and females in general, as being some form of collective evil genius. There was a small bit of truth, she could gather, from a male's perspective, to make them think that. Rhea, however, was more of a win-by-fluke type of person - she wasn't particularly cunning, or remarkably smart, or exceedingly beautiful. However, she did have some of the weapons women are naturally equipped with - charm, sensibility, and a domestic ability that would make even Donna Reed proud. With a more sincere smile, she admitted to the fluke. "It's more luck, than anything. I still haven't technically 'met,'" she said with finger quotations, "all that many people here, even if I know a few of the other fifth years' names and houses. Oh, by the way, I'm a Hufflepuff, if you hadn't heard that, too."

Rhea noted the eagerness he displayed as he took the spoon, which in turn made her flash a brighter smile. It was cute, like a little kid about to open a present on Hanukkah. However, as he used the phrase 'death by chocolate,' she smirked playfully (yet again) with a chortle. "I certainly hope not..." Handing him the bowl, she added, ""Promise you won't overdo it, alright?" Looking about, she finished with, "Aww, no chair for me?" Though she did add a quick wink so he would know she was kidding about it.

[loganross]

<sub>A smirk of amusement slid across his face as she hastily dismissed her rant - it seemed as though something he’d said had gotten to her, though he couldn’t quite be sure of what is was. Her reply, though, identified the source of her discomfort, and he grinned even more widely. Seeing as Logan didn’t normally - he found it rather strange when others did; why should the whole world be aware of what you were doing? - announce out loud when he was going to the loo, he hadn’t bothered to consider how strange the word might sound to those who weren’t used to it. It was a pretty odd word, when you thought about it. But then, many words sounded quite bizarre when someone considered them long enough. In any case, his analysis of words was beginning to bore him, and he turned away from those thoughts abruptly.

She rolled his eyes at his statement about how evil women could be, and he pouted, putting a hand to his chest theatrically as though he’d been wounded by her actions. Then he put his head to one side, much like a dog listening to its owner (which was most certainly not the case), and continued to listen to her. When she was done, he raised an eyebrow in a gesture of surprise. So she hadn’t met many people yet…that was interesting. When he’d first come here oh-so-many-years-ago, he’d attempted to meet as many new people as he could in the first week or so. He loved making new friends and socializing, though many were usually put off by his arrogant mannerisms. Rhea, of course, had succeeded in bringing that façade of pompousness down almost immediately, even if she didn’t realize it herself yet. He wasn’t exactly sure how either - maybe it was just because of her personality, or because of her skills as a cook, or her mousse, or all of the above. Or maybe he was just in a friendly, socialize-y mood. Whatever the case, the fact that he could be this bubbly around someone he’d just met was actually rather nice, and somehow comforting.

Smiling, he said enthusiastically, “Well, you’ve met me now, so you can add one more person to your list. And if you want to be introduced to anyone I know, or meet some new people or something, just let me know,” He fidgeted on the chair, then added with a wink, “You can find me at the house of the noble lions.” Logan, being the prideful and loyal person that he was, felt a great fondness for the Gryffindor house and his housemates, and when presented the opportunity, he’d gladly show this to any who cared to listen. Normally, no-one really did though.

Twirling the spoon between his fingers, his blue eyes sparkling with unconcealed delight, he took the bowl of mousse from her, observing it keenly for a moment. “Knowing my luck, it probably would be my death. Not that that would be a truly bad thing - it’d be a rather enjoyable way to die. Don’t get me wrong though, I don’t have a death wish or anything and--” He cut his ramble off before he ended up looking like a complete idiot. “Ha, sorry,” Raising the bowl as though it were a glass, he nodded to the girl and murmured, “My compliments to you.” And then, tentatively, he poked the spoon into the bowl and brought it back to his mouth, tasting the mousse after what had seemed like an eternity of waiting (he wasn’t really all that patient, to be honest). It really was heavenly. She’d done a wonderful job. Unable to form a coherent sentence in which to express this, he just closed his eyes, savouring it instead. However, when she mentioned there being no chair, his eyes snapped open again, and he quickly sprang up from the chair he’d sat in. Though she'd winked, he disregarded it - after all, Gryffindors were supposed to be chivallrous, right? Nudging it over to her with his foot, he smiled and replied, “After all that work you deserve to sit.”

Leaning against the counter instead, and continuing to have small bites of the mousse, savouring every bite, he frowned and asked, “So, how long have you been here for again? I take it not very?” While he waited for her reply he pushed a lock of hair out of his face with a small sweeping motion of a free hand, annoyed with how it was getting it in the way. Perhaps, he thought dully, I should get a haircut soon...Or a trim at least...I wonder if there are any wannabe barbers in this school...</sub>