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Kiryu will either break whatever tension remains or make things a whole different kind of awkward, because once he starts eating, it's more than a little like a starving dog. The food is going to get scarfed down at an alarming rate, despite the fact that his mouth stays mostly clean and his suit is immaculate.

Someone grew up in an orphanage and spent far too many years in jail and it all very much shows.

Lark is about to say something but he is, indeed, distracted. Kiryu eats fast enough to fit in with a new pup, and it's impressive to watch.

"I'm taking this as a compliment."

Pagan just shrugs, not even bothering with it. He just gives him a fond smile.

"You should, honestly."

He picks at his own food, though mostly because his own emotional roller coaster put him off his appetite. Nothing personal.

But then he notices-

"Did Steve move out?"

Pagan has been in 101 since that happened. He has simply not noticed until now.

Kiryu cleans his plate just in time to look up at the two of them. He’s content to listen to them talk, though. He doesn’t know a Steve, so he doesn’t have much to contribute. He’s going to very slowly reach over for a little more bread.

Kiryu may not know Steve, but the effect Steve has on Lark is obvious by the flash of frustration and hurt.

"Yes. I used to be able to talk to him, to reason with him, but... what can you do when someone is determined to self-destruct."

Pagan reaches an arm around, resting it casually on the back of Kiryu's chair.

"Speaking directly as someone on the other side - I'm not certain. Sometimes you simply must let it happen." He doesn't know if he could have been talked down. Stopped, yes. But he would have found something else to do. Some other way.

"Have you met Steve? Big American? Blonde. Looks like everyone's big, damn hero?" he asks Kiryu.

Pagan actually doesn't mind Steve at all. They simply existed around Lark together. But they couldn't be more different.

He starts to shake his head, and then he pauses as he thinks back. There is a man who matches that description. But that's not the name he gave him.

"I don't think so, no. The only person I've met who sounds like that is Cap-san. He works in the cafeteria for lunch."

He glances at Lark, and he'd intended to bring up his idea for the occasional injection of guest cooks for the food there, but Lark looks a little frustrated and the situation is unfortunate, from everything he's hearing.

He looks to Lark.

"I'm sorry for your friend. It's difficult sometimes, in a normal world, to feel as if you have no way out. Here, I imagine it would be much worse." A dip of his head. "I hope he sees you there for him sooner rather than later."

Cap-san. Cap.

"That's him. His nickname is Cap. Captain America." He feels a twinge of hope and grinds it under his heel. "He hasn't used it in years, though, as far as I know."

Pagan opens his mouth.

Captain. Fucking. America.

Dear god.

He closes his mouth. Says nothing about it. Well, sort of.

"Imagine that," is all he manages.

There's a flash of hurt on Kiryu's face, because he's not sure what he did to get given an alias, but he nods. And then there's confusion.

"...America has a captain?"

One for the whole country?

He smirks at Pagan's reaction. "He was made into a superhero during World War II. He was inspirational propaganda personified. But he never saw it that way, I don't think. He wanted to actually live those ideals. He did a damn good job of it."

It's so hard to talk about Steve. He knew the man when he was at his best. He had a hand in tearing that same man down to the angry loner that haunts the ship now.

"Kiryu, if he's calling himself Cap to you, I have to think it's a good sign. Maybe he's begun to believe he can be an inspiration again."

It's so -

Wholesome.

Pagan wants to stab himself with his fork.

He doesn't. What he does do is refrain from rolling his eyes. He stands up, taking his glass to the kitchen to fill with water so he can sigh in peace. He considers that a step up from where he started.

Kiryu watches Pagan stand up and go to the kitchen so he turns to Lark and nods.

"He seemed very lost," he observes quietly, "and very tired." He gestures to the kitchen before he looks back to Lark.

"I mentioned an idea to him, actually, and he said I should speak to you. You work in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, I run dinner shift. What was your idea?"

He doesn't look back at Pagan, preferring to take his absence as a blessing. He saw that expression.

"I thought that it might be nice if wardens, and inmates who would feel inclined," he's not forgetting them, he just didn't want them to feel pressured, "could help with cooking a dish they happen to know well every so often. The idea was to allow people to share their favorite meals with others, and to increase the variety of dishes occasionally without putting undo strain on the kitchen staff."

Edited (missed a bit!) 2021-06-21 01:50 (UTC)

"I actually tried to put something like that together a few years ago, when I first started kitchen work. People are surprisingly reluctant to talk about simple pleasures... or maybe because I was an inmate with a reputation, they just didn't want to tell me." He smiles, a little crooked. "You're better at getting quick answers than I am, I think. If you can get people on board I'd be happy to have them."

"I can check for interest on my next posting," he says with a quick nod. He hadn't wanted to explore the idea until he had one of the kitchen staff.

"If you would allow, I'd be the first contributor."

Lark is physically incapable of getting tired of food, and the thought of a new item sparks his interest immediately. "Of course. What meal do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking a simple mild curry with rice," he admits, since it's his best dish. And he's not sure about the availability of fish.

"I could make it with chicken or just with vegetables to make sure everyone had an option."

"I volunteer to be a taste tester," Pagan says as he returns from the kitchen. Now that they've returned to easier conversation, he can settle back in. "For the good of the Barge. Make sure that it comes out up to the standards we've come to expect."

He holds up a hand. "No need to thank me. That's as far as my altruism extends."

"I think I could trust you to whisk a few things for Kiryu," Lark days, like he's considering giving Pagan some nuclear launch codes.

“I would be happy to cook for you. Both of you.”

A quick bow of his head.

“Especially after this meal.”

Pagan returns with his arm around Kiryu, lounging in the chair like the goddamn king he was instead of an inmate with two wardens.

"Then it's settled. Anything for a homecooked meal, honestly. As long as it's not my cooking. You missed the New Year party, Kazuma, but - " He shakes his head. "Yunlan and I tried making dumplings and it was an unmitigated disaster. Combine that with the fact that it was during a flood where we couldn't understand each other and, well, you can imagine the results. We managed to come out with something that would make our respective grandparents shudder, but it was edible, at least. So I leave the cooking to others."

"When we were first paired I told him I didn't want him working in the kitchen," Lark explains. "And he ran with it."

There's a twitch of an eyebrow that on anyone else would be a chuckle.

"I do maintain the dining hall, though, so if there's anything you need in that regard, Lark-san, please let me know."

He glances at Pagan, and there's another of those not!smiles over at him.

"But if you ever wish to try again, you can use my kitchen."

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crab_rangoon - 2021-06-23 11:23 (UTC) - Expand