multiversallogs | please sir, may I have some more?

Who:Narcissa, other Narcissa, Lucius, older Lucius?, Rodolphus, Bellatrix?, and anyone who meets Narcissa on the way
What: Sucking up her pride and learning to cook
Where: The Malfoy townhouse, and the streets between her home in Syriac Well and theirs in Sobek Croix
When: Some. Time. >>
Notes: None?
Warnings: None of those, either.

Despite having repairs to her kitchen completed to the point that it is functional once more, Narcissa is unwilling to tempt fate further with her efforts to feed herself something other than sandwiches. Gathering her slightly tattered pride around her like a mantle, she covers it with her cloak; the weather is cooling, and twilight is not a time of day to be out and about without an extra layer, especially when one is not entirely sure of the distance one is to travel.

Apparating would have been a sensible choice, but two things were preventing her, other than her own nausea brought on by that mode of transportation - she's never been to the townhouse, although the address is branded in her mind, and she's not clear on how well Apparation will work, here. Splinching is uncomfortable, and worse when no one is trained to put you back together again. As one who avoids discomfort where possible (unless, as is the case with these cooking lessons, her pride gets in the way), Narcissa is content enough to walk.

It's not as though anything will happen to her on these streets, she's in a very good neighbourhood.

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Carefully watching her older counterpart, Narcissa has the sense to know that anyone knocking on the kitchen door has a right to be here, and doesn't turn around until the other woman has completed this particular task.

With a half smile already forming for Rodolphus, she lifts her head to greet him, but her expression freezes at the man she can see behind him. Lucius had warned her an older version of himself had arrived, but knowing and seeing are two different things.

But since he's not technically in view... "Hello, Rodolphus."

Reassuringly quiet is something Lucius can appreciate from a Lestrange, for all that maybe when not encroaching on crowded kitchen, there are words he could stand to trade or at least say at someone of relative familiarity while he pilfers whatever spirits this place has available--

But he is getting ahead of himself, his own nod back pausing when he catches sight of the young woman passed the other former Death Eater. As off-putting as the other had been-- never mind the fact he worked this out only after being viciously attacked by her-- this is a completely different story. But whatever is happening beneath cool and aloof mask is only seen in that marked flash of selfconscious alarm before it's gone again.

Meanwhile, they're all nodding, bowing, saying hello to mirror reflections and future omens and historical remnants of one another. Almost as maddening as the situation itself. Cynicism writes across his haggard features.

(He doesn't actually have any alternative to offer anyone, mind you.)

"Please, don't let me interrupt the meet and greet," he demures frostily, headed further into the kitchen. "I was only passing through." Sort of. But now that he's here, he may as well collect more in the way of sustenance that allows him to hermit even harder than he has been.

"If you touch anything in this kitchen before we're finished," Narcissa says, placidly, without looking up from where she's carefully wielding a very sharp knife, "I will use this to slice off your fingers, Lucius, there'll be something to eat shortly. Hello, Rodolphus."

Edited 2011-09-21 12:46 (UTC)

His gaze slides slowly from the younger Narcissa to Lucius, so carefully without comment that it pretty much has to be a comment in and of itself. If this were a more... 'normal' situation, he might just drift over to knife-wielding Narcissa's side of the kitchen and stay there. Because knife-wielding Narcissa is less alarming than whatever's going on with Narcissa and Lucius.

However, he's not even acquainted with this Lucius. At least he's talked to the other Narcissa before ~~or would have if his typist hadn't flaked out on that~~. A more socially adroit person might strike up a conversation, suggest some form of diversion like chess, or anything, really, apart from stare curiously at Lucius. Which is actually what is going on.

A twitch of her lips is well-hidden at her older self's deft handling of what is undoubtedly the most bizarre situation she's ever found herself in. Careful arrangement of vegetables yet to be chopped creates the illusion that she knows what she's doing, and she's pleased that when she speaks, her voice is quietly confident.

"Hello, Lucius. I believe there's tea things over on the other counter, perhaps you'd like a cup while you wait."

There really is two of them.

That seems hardly fair.

Lucius stops short, a glance from one Narcissa to the other, as if maybe assessing exactly how much trouble either of them are worth, before commenting, primly; "Is there an echo in here?" But he does go for the tea, if only for something to do rather than aboutface out of the kitchen in a fit of social awkwardness. Rodolphus' stare is felt rather than met, hunkered against as opposed to challenged as he might have done a few years ago.

These subtle differences.

There are two of him, too, he'll note.

"There isn't."

Her voice has lost some of the tentative friendliness it initially held.

The Narcissas are an awful lot of trouble, respectively and collectively, and Lucius should probably not speculate on their worth while they're both in close proximity to very, very sharp knives. ...though, Narcissa does refrain from what would've been her usual threat (she can throw you out, you know); she's seen a bit too much of him, she's wary of picking at anything that might push him in a direction she doesn't truly want to see him slip.

(Maybe a little, but not truly- surely.)

"Be nice to the women making your dinner, Lucius," she reproaches instead, with a fleeting glance.

Carefully imitating Narcissa's precise movements, Cissy feels compelled to add, "Since it's entirely possible you'll end up eating the burnt portion."

It's not that she doesn't have confidence in her skills; quite to the contrary. She's already succeeded in burning one kitchen, who's to say she couldn't manage a second time with a little effort? And with Narcissa's guiding hand, who's to say that couldn't be limited to specific part of the meal?

There's only so many pieces a carrot can be cut into before it becomes carrot mush, and she lays her knife aside to wait for further instruction. If she concentrates on the task before her, she won't have to give in to the urge to turn and stare.

please sir, may I have some more?

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