Boiled, Poached or Scrambled? (Remy)

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Since her talk with Henry, Snow had been very distant, even more so than normal. He had given her a lot to think about, and whether he intended it or not the conversation had forced her to think a lot about things she had been trying to hard to avoid thinking of. Her children didn’t remember her, Edward was no longer to succeed his father to the thrown, and it really was all of her fault

With so much on her mind it was not so easy to focus on grading papers or making up lesson plans, and even her baking hadn’t always been turning out well. Just the other day she had used baking soda instead of baking powder, and then there was the time she had used a tablespoon of salt instead of a teaspoon...

Determined to get at least one recipe right this week, she walked into the culinary arts room to attempt some tried and true pastry dough and was surprised to find that it wasn’t empty. She had been keeping the door locked lately with the little... secret that was kept warming in her oven, but it must have slipped her mind and now there was a lone student in there and...

Oh my, the oven!

Suddenly remembering the dragon egg she rushed into the room, eyes wide and voice practically a squeak. “What are you doing in here? Nobody is supposed to use this room unsupervised!”

Frantically she moved straight for her oven at the front. At least he hadn’t tried to use that one.

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Remy was baking. What else would he be doing, really? The ex-rat had merrily gathered ingredients, putting together everything he needed for a French eclair that he'd found in one of the cooking books. He'd found the empty room, and, per usual, took it over. As far as Remy knew, the rooms were always available for students, open and available for any and all students who wanted to cook. Remy had certainly been using them quite freely for some time now, and didn't intend to stop anytime soon.

He'd been surprised to see that one of the ovens was already on, but he just shrugged it off. That was just one less oven to heat. That let him focus on mixing up the eclairs, which for Remy, was probably the best part of cooking. He'd just gotten to the vanilla when Snow rushed into the room. Remy startled, the vanilla falling from his fingers. He managed to catch it, but naturally he did so with the opening facing the bowl. A huge splatter of vanilla decorated the batter, before Remy hurriedly righted it.

There were questions to answer, even if Remy would rather be staring at his creation and trying to figure out how to fix it. "I thought all these rooms were open," he said, forcing himself to look at the teacher. "I've always just used whatever room was available before. They didn't seem to mind that I did whatever."

He stopped, blinked, and stared. Finally, his mind attached a name to the face, and he dropped his vanilla. "You're her! Snow White! I have you for class and stuff; I voted you for the Headmaster position too..." Remy paused, and his eyes narrowed, "why are you here?"

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Moving over to stand in front of her oven protectively, Snow silently cursed as she pointed out how most of the labs were usually left open for the students to use in off hours for practice. Yes, they were, but not when there was a large dragon’s egg being hidden in them. Was it illegal? She had never considered that prospect before, her initial concern being only safety. Would she lose her job if she was found out? Then where would she be?

Luckily the kid recognized her while she was trying to come up with some excuse, and it gave her an extra minute to think. The reaction was a little enthusiastic and for a moment she was afraid he was going to start acting all love sick like Roger had, but he quickly turned it into a question instead.

“Yes, I am,” she said, probably unnecessarily. “This is my workspace, why should I not be here?” she turned the question right back around. She too narrowed her eyes right back at him, as if he was the one trespassing, the one who didn’t belong in this room. Which was true, so she did have that on her side.

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"This is your workplace?" repeated Remy. His brow furrowed, and he tried to remember what, if anything, he'd noticed as he'd headed in. True, he'd been a little more focused on the project at hand, namely the baking, so he hadn't exactly been paying a whole lot of attention to whether he'd entered someone else's room. Still, he thought he had entered one of the general workplaces.

It certainly looked general.
Ish.
Generalish.

"I thought this was one of the open rooms," said Remy. He pointed at the room, even turning to point at an oven. "It kind of looks like one of the open rooms. So this is your personal workplace? You know," he lowered his arm and turned back to Snow, "they say you can tell a lot about a chef based on his, well, her, kitchen."

Remy paused, sliding his hands into his pockets and letting his eyes roam. He hadn't paid a lot of attention to the room around him when he'd first come in. It had been more or less... well, it looked mostly like the others, so Remy had just figured he could start cooking and that would be that.

"You accidentally left an oven on," he said, pointing toward the one he hadn't turned on. "I went ahead and left it, since I needed to preheat for what I was doing." He paused, then lowered his hand. He looked to Snow again, and he clearly wanted to ask why; the question was written all over his face. Instead, he looked back at his gear, wondering if he should be packing it up and moving out.

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The way the kid kept looking around at everything like he was taking notes, like he was scrutinizing every detail just set Snow even more on edge. Of course it didn’t help that he kept pointing out flaws in her lies.

“Well, it is my classroom, the one I have been allotted while teaching here, so perhaps it is just a personal preference that I wish to keep people out of it when I am not there to supervise,” she replied. She looked a bit indignant as he insinuated that he could know anything about her just by looking at the state of her kitchen. Could he tell she was a liar who was possibly engaged in criminal activities? She really didn’t like the way he said it.

“Oh, um, yes,” she said in regards to the oven. She couldn’t agree that it was an accident or he would expect her to turn it off, which she couldn’t do, but then he mentioned wanting to use the oven and her eyes widened again. “No!” she blurted out. Maybe she had hardened over the years but she had never been quick at thinking on her feet. Lies were easy once she had convinced herself of them, but otherwise she did poorly at them. “I mean, I was heating it up for... my own purposes. I have to prepare something. For class.”

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Remy nodded. "Right, a chef's kitchen is his...her domain, so everything in it has to be just perfect."

It was nearly a direct quote out of Gusteau. Which made sense, as Remy effectively thought Anyone Could Cook was as important as, say, most books of faith. He looked back at his mostly finished eclair mix. Could he start cooking now, or was he supposed to wait for the conversation to end first? There was a rule there, surely.

Then Snow blurted, and Remy jumped. He looked to her, those eyes wide again. "Yeah, sure, right, whatever you want," he said, his words coming out a little fast, then far, far too slow. He swallowed, trying to think. The whole jumpy thing was just something he couldn't shake, what with being an ex-rat and all. But why was she jumpy? Snow should be all levelheaded and calm and stuff, not as jumpy as Remy.

He edged closer to his bowl, grabbing it and scooping it closer. He needed to whip up the creme for the interior, but he still wasn't sure what he should be...

He paused, sniffing. He raised his bowl, sniffing it. No, it smelled like vanilla and creme. he took another sniff. He looked toward the oven for a few moments, then looked to Snow. Another sniff.

"Does it smell like... egg to you?"

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This was simply not going well at all. It was clear the poor boy thought she was either lying or a bit on the crazy side, and at this point Snow was unsure if she wasn’t both. She had to calm down, take a deep breath and just think this through. He didn’t have to find out so long as she didn’t let him near the oven, and of course there was the spell! She kept forgetting about the spell that Balinor had placed on the door that kept anyone but himself from opening it. Even if Remy had tried to use the oven he would have found the door stuck and had to try elsewhere.

She visibly relaxed. “I’m sorry, I must seem very strange to you. You know how it is, everything in its place and a place for everything. I get a bit out of sorts when I find people unexpectedly in my space.”

She smiled beautifully at him, and as the once renowned ‘fairest of them all’ it truly was a heart stopping smile. Unfortunately it didn’t last long as Remy strangely started sniffing everything. Before she could ask what was wrong he mentioned the word ‘egg’. All Snow’s composure faltered again.

“Oh, um, I had something boil over earlier in this oven. I’m afraid I didn’t get it cleaned out well yet,” she lied, leaning one hand on the oven door and putting her weight against it. Imagine her shock when it moved, opening a full inch. God she really hoped it was a rusty hinge that had made that strange chirping sound.

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"Sure," replied Remy, adding a shrug for good measure, "not like we all aren't weird in our own way, I guess."

Really, if Remy had to admit a problem, it was that Snow wasn't fitting the picture he had in his head of her. Remy wasn't even entirely certain where he'd gotten that impression. He just felt like she should be... more. She should be an impressive figure that inspires confidence and make you feel like you should be better or something. wasn't she supposed to be someone who'd survived this whole god-awful fairy tale nonsense that kept swirling around them? Maybe that was the problem; she did seem a little shell-shocked.

And skittish. Remy gave her another weird look as she sputtered about the egg smell. She'd leaned against the oven, and it pulled open slightly. That wasn't the odd part though, well, oddest part, at any rate. No, the oddest part was hearing the strange noise coming from within. For Remy knew that none of the ovens in this area were so poorly maintained that they'd make noises.

"Uh, is there something, alive in there?" he asked, pointing. "I mean, I know we want the food to be fresh and all, but don't we usually kill it first? Well, I mean, there's lobster but..." his eyes narrowed and he pointed at the oven, "lobsters don't squeak..."

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When the oven door cracked open Snow instinctively slammed it shut again and took a step back. No, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Balinor had put a spell on the door so it wouldn’t open for anyone but him, she had watched him do it. She shouldn’t be able to open it, nobody should be able to open it but him.

“No, they don’t,” she agreed with Remy, sounding entirely distracted. It was hatching; a real, live dragon, right there in her oven. For a moment she forgot the dangers and the desire to keep it a secret and stepped forward again, her curiosity getting the better of her. Gripping the handle in one hand, she took a deep breath and opened the door a good three inches before peeing in.

Inside the egg still sat right where Balinor had placed it, but there was a good sized piece missing near the top of it. Through that hole a single eye peered back at her, blinking slowly. She heard it chirp again.

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Yeah, this was crazy behavior. Remy recognized it all too well, having had more than his share of encounters with it in his relatively short life. So he waited patiently while the teacher approached the oven as though it contained a deep, dark secret. He leaned slightly as she opened it, but ended up taking a few scuttling steps backward at the chirp. In truth, he looked very close to the very thing he'd suggested might be inside said oven.

"Well, whatever you're cooking in there like to chirp," he said, pointing. "It sounds kind of like a chicken or something. that's not an egg dish, is it? I mean, I've heard the rumors, but..."

He swallowed. This was just getting weirder and weirder. Should he be taking a step closer now or something...?

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For a moment Snow seemed to be frozen. It was fascinating, this tiny creature just staring at her, sounding so innocent. Dragons were supposed to be large and fearsome and deadly and everything this little one wasn’t. Was it really true, could these creatures be no more evil than the humans who hated them? She had accepted Balinor’s explanation at the time, but she wasn’t sure she believed him until now.

When Remy spoke again Snow snapped out of her revery and stood up abruptly, closing the door again. It was too late now to lie, he was too close to have not seen anything. She had to make a decision here, and she had to choose to trust him, though not far enough to leave him alone in the room.

“Remy, I know I have been acting very strangely, and I’m sure that you now can see why. If anyone else knew this was here...” Standing protectively in front of the oven, she glanced quickly at the door. “I am going to ask something of you, and it isn’t fair, but I need you to swear to me that you will tell no one of this. Please.”

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Just when Remy hadn't thought this could get any more confusing...

The chef took a step back as Snow approached, feeling that age old desire to run into a dark hole and hide. What was it that he supposedly would have seen?

"Look, if you're raising a secret chicken farm or something, that's okay. I mean, people have done weirder things. I sometimes talk to a floating dead fat guy, so I totally understand," he said, realizing that at some point the "babble switch" had been pressed. Remy took a deep breath, looking over Snow's shoulder toward the oven. He wanted to start spewing words again, and he had a feeling he was going to any moment now, despite his best efforts.

"You don't have to worry about me spreading secrets. I'm rather good at it. Had a few myself really. Like that bit about the floating dead guy," he said. He looked directly at Snow's eyes now, and something in them made him pause. He blinked. Then he nodded. "Yeah, I promise not to tell anybody. Assuming it's not going to, like, hurt people or you're roasting puppies in there or something."

A beat.

"You're not roasting puppies, are you?"

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Snow wasn’t sure whether to believe him when Remy started talking as if he had seen nothing at all. It was quite possible he was just lying, probable even when she factored in his story about floating dead people, and it was a chance she couldn’t take. Besides, she needed Balinor and no way she was leaving this room to find him.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how she always seemed to get mixed up with the strangest students. Roger had been bad enough but she had been able to attribute it to some juvenile crush he had on her. She had no idea what to pin Remy’s babbling on besides the fact that he was just very odd.

“No, I am not roasting puppies,” she said in a flat, toneless voice. This was not going to earn his trust, so she heaved a sigh and tried to at least look friendly. “Remy, I need to speak with Professor Balinor. I know this is all very strange, but could you please go fetch him for me? It is very important.”

((Rem said she can throw Balinor in whenever we need him))

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Remy's brow furrowed as the cooking teacher addressed him. "Balinor? You mean the magic teacher guy? Why do you--" he began. He stopped. He looked to the oven. A magical teacher; a cooking teacher who'd dealt with magic in a very direct fashion; an oven that made noises. Yeah, this was starting to add up, and Remy was really starting to regret agreeing to go along with this.

Still, he didn't see that he had much choice in the matter. Plus, he'd already promised Snow, and he was nothing if not a rat of his word. Well, ex-rat; same difference. He turned to her, nodded, and then set off.

Unfortunately, Remy wasn't quite as sure where Balinor's office happened to be, exactly. He had a general idea: the staff offices were all in the same general area. However, beyond that idea, and the various plaques and stuff, the ex-rat, current chef had absolutely no idea where to look. It occurred to him that he should have asked Snow...

{that's fine with me. Probably be good if he hops in and rescues poor Remy, since he kinda needs it and all ^.^' }

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It was lucky then that said magic teacher was currently wandering the halls of Tintagel looking for the rat/chef/now human, himself. Balinor was a great believer in giving credit when credit was due…that was when he wasn’t encouraging his students to do better, in which case he was a believer in withholding all credit until eventually saying ‘that’ll do’. When it came to food however he had an entirely different philosophy. The cookies that had been left in the staff room had been utterly delicious and he was more than ready to offer up his compliments to the chef.

Which he found coming towards him, even if he didn’t know it yet.

“Oi, boy!” he called out to the young man, “do you know where I might find someone called Remy?”