In the canteen, the figure of Marcone would be seen hard at work before the stove. Ingredients for cookies set out, in neat order as the smell of scrambled eggs wafted from the stove. It was sad how some people disregarded how to cook the perfect eggs. A little pepper, a smidge of salt...Mmmhmm. Maybe a pinch of oregano to give it some zest.
He stepped over the massive bloodstain in the kitchen, to grab the tobasco bottle to give it a kick, before removing it from the hot plate onto a paper one. Letting it cool for now as he began to work on making the cookies, one by one.
If he was aware how strange this may have been to others watching, he didn't seem to care.
He strode to the side to grab a knife, chopping up an apple with casual skill into slices after peeling the skin. At which point, he took a sugar and cinnamon mix as he sprinkled it onto the slices, letting them stick and coat the slices as he began to hum, quite at ease despite the surroundings.
"Oh I left my heart, in San Francisco..."
His slacks and shoes were the same, though perhaps a little dirty from the surroundings. But his silk shirt was gone, replaced by a camp counselor t-shirt and an apron, emphasizing the build that the suit hid prior. His moves were like a panther, all lithe and graceful and he smiled like the tiger outside its cage as he played the role of camp cook and server for those here.
@york @Canteen People
