Night 46: Main Hallway, 1-West

[quickdrawbkiddo.livejournal.com]

[from here]

Beatrix had walked this path to the Sun Room so many times, she could do it in complete darkness. Which was exactly what she was doing. Knowing the way, there was little need for light as it would only draw creatures and other unwanted attention. Silently counting her steps, at the right number, the assassin headed left and down the hallway.

[to here]

Comments

[vstheworld]

Scott had no idea why this guy was asking if he was a commie or whatever (unless he had some very weird ideas about red tomatoes, Scott didn't see what communism had to do with vegetables). That wasn't important, though. What was important was that he had a place to go, a person to go there with, and the promise of food when they arrived. "Oh yeah, totally! Or something like that. I mean, I don't carry a card or anything for it, but I sure can chop me some vegetables at my work. I don't make a bad pasta, either," he answered with an excited grin.

A friendly, enthusiastic hand was extended toward his new traveling buddy. "Anyway, I'm Scott Pilgrim! What's your name, my food-loving friend?"

[tiny-chef.livejournal.com]

"So you aren't actually training to be a chef," Remy replied, sounding a little bit disappointed. Scott said he chopped vegetables at work... did that mean that he worked in a less formal setting than Remy was used to? Not a brasserie... maybe a smaller cafe or something. That was real cooking, too, although Remy didn't think it could ever be as special as what he'd accomplished at Gusteau's, let alone what Gusteau himself had accomplished.

He took Scott's hand, a bit delicately, amazed that another human wanted to shake hands with him; he wondered when the feeling would wear off.

"It's Remy. Just... Remy." It occurred to him then that he didn't have a surname, like... well, Linguini or Gusteau or Skinner or, indeed, Pilgrim. He'd have to come up with one.

[vstheworld]

"Oh. Oh! That's what you meant. Nah man, I just work at this vegetarian place sometimes. Nothing serious," Scott explained with a short laugh as he shook Remy's hand. The guy had a pretty light grip compared to his own. In fact, the hold was so light that it almost felt like Scott was shaking a much smaller hand than he really was. Like a mouse's. Or a guinea pig's. Something small, anyway.

"Are you, Remy?" Scott asked as he gestured the younger guy to start following him down the hall. "Going to be a chef, I mean? Sounds like you've got the talk to be one at least."

[tiny-chef.livejournal.com]

After the handshake broke, Remy trotted along next to Scott, heading towards the Sun Room.

"No, I'm not going to be a chef... I am a chef. I haven't been able to cook since I got here, though. I learned the lingo from Gusteau." He wondered if Scott would recognize the name. Gusteau was world-famous, but so far, nobody here was sure that they had heard of him.

Technically, Auguste Gusteau had died well over a year before Remy was born. They had never met and could never have met. Yet Remy had lived most of the months of his life learning from Gusteau, with Anyone Can Cook as their intermediary; this had been true ever since his fur had grown in, after his eyes had opened and he could see and, later, venture out on his own or with Emile. He remembered looking into the skylight at Gusteau's restaurant, and his imagination supplying him with Gusteau's words from the book and Gusteau's image to guide him.

He hadn't seen Petit Gusteau since the other night, though. At the time, Remy had thought that it would be all right if the apparition was gone for good; now, he was beginning to miss him. Even though they'd never really known each other personally, Gusteau was as beloved to him as any mentor ever could be.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/779667.html?thread=64306835#t64306835).]