2014-12-29 Potato Persuasion
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: Hulk, Iron Man, Phantasm
GMed by NA
Title: Potato Persuasion

Logfile from FlameOfDarkness.

The kitchen is large and fully staffed. Everything is pristeen stainless steel, and every surface kept clean before, after, and during preparation of meals. Multiple stoves are against a wall, a gourmet oven. The Kitchen is generally kept fully staffed as necessary to the volume that may make it through the dining hall at any point of the day. After last meal, and overnight, the kitchen is generally deserted until the following morning.

While staffed during the day time, the kitchen is a rather empty place after the last meal. A meal in which Mike has conveniently missed. The performer is currently rectifying that as a covered pot sits on one of the burners of the gourmet oven. A rumbling from within hinting to some of the contents being liquid of the boiling variety. The scents coming from it have hints of garlic to it.

As for where Mike is while the pot cooks away, he is over to the other side of the kitchen, butt resting against the side of the counter as he holds a notebook in hand. Pen in hand, he lifts it up only to lower it, frowning tiredly at it.

The delicious aroma is enough to attract stray animals. Such as, for example, a wild Tony Stark, in his totally informal "working in the lab" outfit, tank top and all. He even has his goggles on top of his head, which he may have forgotten about. Just like he forgot about food for the past day or two. "What *is* that smell, and can I have some right now?"

The sleepy Irish Italian's frown fades as he cracks a half smile in response to the compliment regarding the food. "Garlic Mashed Potatoes nearing the end of stage 1." Mike replies, setting his pen inside the notebook he was holding before setting it closed on the countertop. "I'm making plenty so you can have some. But, I'd recommend waiting til the other stuff gets added."

Tony makes such a squeaky sound of wanting, but he knows it's no good to rush perfection. "I'll get a snack to tide me over." Walking to the fridge (or one of them, anyway), he starts to rummage inside. "I keep setting timers and then turning them off and ignoring them when they try to tell me to eat. One day I'm gonna have to finally admit Pepper and Jarvis are right about my 'flow'."

"Yeah, it's hard to break yourself away from a project when you're really into it. Which is probably an indirect reason why I'm cooking right now instead of enjoying whatever was served at dinner." Moving over to the pot, Mike lifts the lid to inspect the potatoes. Grabbing a fork, he brings it over to the bubbling liquid and stabs gently at one of the larger floating orbs positioned furthest from the steam funnel coming from up center. Smiling, he chucks the fork to the side and turns to look for the pot holders. "It's a hazard of the occupations we choose, I guess." He pauses to give a yawn.

"I missed dinner too?" Tony looks up, as if this were completely news to him. He glances around to find the time. "Oh. I guess I did." Then he ducks back in to take out a few storage containers from the chilled shelves, one after the other, putting each back where it was after looking to see what it holds. He's not in the mood for those things.

"I guess so if you're asking. I wasn't there so I couldn't tell." Mike furrows his brow as he glances around, "Where the hell did I se-" He pauses, walking over towards Tony's fridge to grab some rather elegantly designed pot holders hanging nearby that are questionably either decoration or for function. Mike doesn't care at the moment as he turns back towards the pot, turning off the heat and grabbing the pot handles. "You've considered keeping snack bars in your lab?"

Tony gives a sheepish grin. "Yeah, but I eat 'em." He laughs, closing the fridge door after all and stretching his arms above his head. "Mmmnnnhhh. I don't even know how long I've been down there. Was I here when you got here? How long've you been here?" Poor Tony's mind, still filled with numbers, stats, and blueprints he hasn't yet transferred to more real-world equivalents.

Mike looks at Tony curiously. "Here in the kitchen, or here since I came back from my tours?"

"In the mansion. I mean in the mansion." Tony opens the fridge again, and this time he finds at least some juice. It looks like cranberry. He goes to find a glass for it and pours himself some. "Today, I mean." He sighs. Clearly he's not able to use his words well right now. "What I mean is, have you seen me all day?"

Tipped over the sink, steaming water pours out, dumping the cut potatoes and garlic cloves into the colander that was previously positioned in there. "Other than right now, nope. But then again, you're the first one I've seen today as well." Mike turns his head, smile still present but weak. "I have a bit of a sleep deficit I need to make up." Balancing the hot pot on the ledge between sinks, he reaches over to the collander.

Tony smirks, sipping his juice. At least that'll be good for his stomach, instead of just eating something potentially heavy after eating nothing pretty much all day. "And you're in here making delicious potato dishes instead. I see how you got that sleep deficit." Another gulp of his drink. "Something I know very well."

"Hey, you can take the blood out of Ireland, but you don't take the Ireland out of the blood." Mike returns, bringing the pot over to the oven only to rest it on one of the non-active burners, he turns towards the fridge, "Besides, I woke up hungry. A much more pleasing side effect than before. Before the powers," He shakes his head, "Sleep issues from Hell."

"Or the potatoes, as the case seems to be." Tony's smirk turns into a grin, before he wanders back in the direction of the stovetop. "To be honest, I don't know much about you. Or your powers. Probably from that same workaholic mentality I always seem to have. But if you ever need someone to talk to…"

"Call up your secretary and book an appointment?" Mike supplies back, pulling out two dishes, "I'm not entirely sure just WHAT S.H.I.E.L.D. has on that. But considering how sharing Loki is, I'm sure there's probably an explanation to the abilities in there somewhere." He undoes the saran wrap on the dishes to revealed chopped chives and bacon before chucking the contents into the pot.

"…no, I was going to say 'you know where to find me'." Tony chuckles softly as he watches the cooking process. "I…don't know anything about that myself. Give unto SHIELD what is SHIELD's, Loki what is Loki's, isn't that how that saying goes?" He lifts the glass of ruby-colored juice. "Pepper's been wanting me to try this cauliflower-crust pizza recipe. May give it a go next week."

"Ah yes. You'll likely in the middle of an experiement that might blow up if you are interrupted at an inopportune time." Mike quips, turning to open a drawer to grab the potato masher, "Hey, could you grab the milk?" Turning towards the pot, he starts to mash the potatoes. "Apparently Loki went up to Fury and flat out told him to recruit me. I'm assuming other things about me were said. Because I don't see Fury going 'okay!' at just that. Only problem is I don't know WHAT is known and what is not. And what I can say and what I can't say because everything's so damn complicated."

Tony turns and walks to the fridge, picking up the cranberry juice bottle to replace once he's got it open. So it takes a little more looking, and then he's back with the milk. "Yeah, it is pretty complicated. Life's like that, though. Still not exactly one hundred percent delighted about a paramilitary organization mingling with the Avengers, but I guess you do what you can do."

"One thing's for sure, I'm damn well not military. Although Cap is alright." Mike indirectly agrees as he reaches over to take the milk, "Thanks." Popping the cap off, he tilts the jug to let a splash of milk hit the contents before he brings the container back, sealing it up. Setting it aside, he goes back to mashing the potatoes. "Alright, grab some bowls."

"Seems like everything's getting worse in the world. I'd just as soon not have to trust in somebody else's huge weapons that are probably poorly-designed and full of traps." Tony finishes off his juice and sets the glass in the sink. Jarvis will get that. Or someone else will. "I like to stick to my own guns." That boyish grin returns, bright and toothy.

Bruce comes down to see what he's smelling, smiling as he hears the banter in the kitchen. "Hello, Tony, Mike. What smells so good?"

Mike brings the masher down at an angle. Scooping a glop of the potatoes on the other side of the masher, with another motion, he- pauses as he sees the lack of bowls. "Well, guess it's a good thing one of us was born in poverty, otherwise we'd starve next to a pot of freshly cooked food." He sighs, setting the masher down to move over to the cabinets to grab a couple bowls. Hearing the inquiry, he grabs a third. "Just in time for some Garlic mashed potatoes with some bacon and chives mixed in."

Tony glances over to Bruce as he hears the man, and his smile widens. "Bruce! Oh, it's all me. I'm delicious." Of course, that's more than a slight stretch of the truth. He only smells acceptable because of a subtle cologne and the fact that his hygiene is generally well-maintained. But he's been in the lab most of the day, so he also smells like a well-oiled machine. "Huh? Oh, right. Sorry. Still not in 'human interface' mode yet." So he grabs some spoons and forks and sets them down next to the bowls. Whatever people want to use. He can be helpful around the house sometimes!

Bruce smirks at Tony, "You sure you want to claim to be delicious and nutritious with my tummy complaining? Mr. Green might decide to put that statement to the test." He walks over

"Better him than me." Mike comments out, grabbing a bowl with one hand and the handle of the masher with the other. With a sling of the hand, he completes the motion he had aborted just a few moments ago, glopping a generous scoop of potato into a bowl before setting it down to work on the next, "So, did you miss dinner too, Bruce?"

"Nah, I'd give him indigestion. Besides, I don't think people are on his diet." Tony laughs it off, turning back to watch Mike. If his mouth weren't watering before, it surely is now. "Mm."

Bruce nods, "Yeah, got involved in a project. I gotta stop doing that… Makes it depressingly easy for Mr. Green to come out." He looks at Tony, "I dunno. You don't have to listen to him making coments about how if he ate a villian, there would be one less problem in the world."

"It's kind of funny how easily distracted we all get with projects. I kind of wonder if anyone other than Cap actually makes it to the scheduled dinner on time." Glop! Mike sets down a second bowl and repeats the process with bowl number three. "Alright, help yourself. First come, first serve and all that." He reaches over, grabbing a spoon go with bowl number 3 before reaching over to put the lid over the pot of the remaining potatoes.

"He probably only makes it because his internal clock compels him," Tony comments, taking a bowl and a spoon appreciatively. "Thanks! Ohh, this is gonna be so good." What follows are sounds of pleasure and approval so genuine and heartfelt that the other two in the kitchen are among a very, very small group to have ever beheld.

Bruce snags a bowl and spoon, and serves himself up. Smiling, he goes over to stand by the counter, "These smell awesome."

Mike lifts a brow at the sound effects coming from Tony, "I think that's the first time I've heard that sound with j-" He pauses, opting not to finish that sentence. He looks down to his own bowl before taking a scoop to have a bite. Head tilting, he carries his bowl over to the portion of counter holding his own neglected notebook, "What are you guys working on anyways?"

Tony looks up at Mike, eyes a little hazy, almost glassy. It must have been a while since he ate, for sure, and the potatoes are definitely the best thing he's had in a while. "You are a god among men, man." And he takes another bite, savoring all of it on his tongue as Bruce explains his work. Then Tony chimes in. "Just the usual. You know. New year, new suit."

Bruce ehs, "Mostly just things to keep undoing what Mr. Green tends to mess up. This one being a water purification system capable of handling the sorts of damage a green goliath inflicts on sewer systems and the like."

Mike grimaces at the description, glancing down to his food as he works to get rid of the mental image that popped into his head. He blinks, shaking his head, "Must be more tired than I thought…" The spoon rests in the bowl as the newly freed hand lifts to rub at his face. "I wouldn't know what the usual is for you with the new year. I've only been around here for about 4 months. Well, maybe more like two and a half if you don't count the time touring."

If Mike had been around to see Tony through the rest of the year, he'd probably have remarked that it's more like "new day, new suit". There are so many Iron Man armors down in the lab that everyone who has ever been an Avenger could wear one and they'd have some to spare. He could turn them into thematic armors that match their costumes. "So who's gonna watch the ball drop with me?"

Bruce eehs, "I could probably do that."

Mike frowns, glancing around for a calendar, "That's not tonight, is it?"

"Tomorrow!" Tony proclaims. "At least, I think it is. Sheesh, you're worse than I am about losing time. At least Bruce has…an internal clock. Or probably a StarkPhone with a calendar on it. I…seem to have misplaced mine."

Bruce uhms, "Nope."

"I've been sleeping most of the day." Mike reminds, pulling out his SHIELD issued phone as he's reminded that PHONES HAVE CALENDARS ON THEM. "…oh right." He pauses, "Two days. 29th of December… barely."

"Oh. Well. There you go." Tony takes another bite of potatoes. And it just seems like he never gets any less enthusiastic about them. "Is it okay if I change your team role to 'guy that makes potatoes all the time for the team'? Because I think it would make the world a better place."

Bruce chuckles at Tony, "Yeah, uhm… I don't see that happening, Tony. Though…" He says as he takes a bite of potatoes, "It wouldn't be a bad change."

"Or trigger another potato famine." Mike murmurs, looking over to Tony, "And I'll pass on that role. Besides, that would limit my repetoire in the kitchen. Besides, I'm also good for DREAM vacations. Right, Bruce?" He grins over to the Doctor before taking more bites of potato.

"Okay, okay. Once a week, if you won't let me have 'all the time'?" Tony makes his puppy-dog face, and the persuasion is strong with it. He has a power, and it lies in his ability to beg.

Bruce growls softly at Mike, and the growl seems to have some extra bass to it, "Yeah, that's true."

"Hey, I thought you guys liked it. Once you got the hang of the clothes thing." Mike looks over to Tony's puppy-dog eyes and counteracts with his own, "But. But. I need rest." Although being a tongue in cheek response, it is apparent that the performer is no stranger to this art form either it seems. He gives a slight pout, which, seems almost feminine paired with the ponytail lacking bed head.

"But they're so gooood…" Tony's up to the task. He takes it up a notch. This could get serious; it's a cosmic-level puppy-dog pout-off. Poor Bruce is caught in the crossfire of two seasoned professionals. It might be hard to imagine Tony Stark, the invincible Iron Man, resorting to this, but there it is. Right for anyone to see.

Bruce growls a bit louder, and his eyes start to take on a rather troubling shade of green, "Guys might cool it before Mr. Green does make his appearance." Setting down the bowl, he rests his hands on the counter

"And good things can wait." Mike replies with a whimper. Eh. The actor's already done a guest voice for My Little Pony, there's not much worse he can do to his self image. Dear lord, the eyes are misting. THE EYES ARE MISTING! "I travel a lot for my work and now you want me to add cooking to it? I'm so tiiiired." @_@ At Bruce's warning, he snaps out of the mode to look over to the doctor. "Ah, sorry." Glance setting on the bowl, he tilts his head towards the pot. "There's plenty more if you want seconds."

Tony raises an eyebrow, looking with a questioning expression to Bruce. "What's *your* damage, Bruce? Come on, you have a problem with having these miracle potatoes weekly?"

Bruce crosses his arms, "The potatoes are lovely, and I would enjoy them a lot, but, if we have them weekly, then, how miraculous would they be? And, why are we trying to force him to make them?" He glances at Mike, "Also, there's nothing wrong with My Little Pony."

Mike points over to Bruce, "What he said." He does a dramatic pose, "My place is on stage, not in the kitchen." He pauses, "Ok, this is too silly even for me. I definitely need to go back to sleep." He glances to Tony and Bruce, "And I sure as heck am not going to get any closer to doing that around you two. Terrible. Terrible influences."

"A thousand for the recipe?" Tony grins, licking his lips. And then Mike seems ready to retire for the evening. Again. So he offers a wiggle of fingers. "Thanks again for the taters. See you again."

Bruce finishs his mashed potatoes, "I doubt Mike is quite so vulgar to sell his family's recipe for money, Tony. I'd just say be happy you get to enjoy them."

"Oh but I have so many recipes, Bruce." Mike smiles, carrying his bowl to the door, glancing over to Tony, giving a wink, "Triple it and make the check out for one of the homeless shelters and I'll write it down for you later. I'll even laminate it for you." Giving a bit of a wave, Mike heads off towards the elevators, bowl and all.

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