Vivamus, Moriendum est (Rorschach x oc)

14. Wouldn't it be Nice?

Mary's P.O.V.

It was not until late afternoon that I chanced going downstairs again. And I only did so because there had been quite the commotion for most of the afternoon in the kitchen. Now it began to escalate by the sounds of it and thus peaking my interests.

"This menu isn't even in English! What even is 'Persille de Rambouillet'?" Liberty complained squinting at an oversized piece of parchment cramped with tiny print.

"It's French." Belle informed her hustling to the other side of the kitchen with a large bowl in hand.

"It's also a cheese and we don't need to make the cheese so please move on to something else!" Irene chastised.

"I don't know what anything is here! I mean Burrata? Carpaccio? Escargot? I can't even pronounce this last one." Liberty squinted harder at the paper with raised brows.

Belle took a passing glance over her shoulder, "charcuterie."

Libby scowled at her, "you're a chacoochie."

"Shar-koodere. Honestly, didn't you travel?" Belle shot back.

Libby threw the paper down on the counter, "I was a little busy. Excuse me if I didn't get to try all the fine dining. What's wrong with some hamburgers and dogs? This doesn't even sound like food. More like handbags or somethin'."

"It's what your sister wants. And we only have three hours left. Please hurry up." Irene snapped to keep them on task.

Bernice leaned over her shoulder. Inspecting something Irene had been trying to mold for the past twenty minutes. Irene plucked Bernice's cigarette from her mouth and put it out, chucking the butt away.

"How many times must I ask you not to smoke in my home." Irene scolded.

"What is that?" Bernice asked ignoring the admonishment.

Irene casted a glare her way, "it's a-a lamb meatball. Which reminds me which one of you is whipping the ricotta?"

Libby frowned, "which one is ricotta again?"

"That looks more like a lamb pile than a ball." Bernice chimed.

"Yes, yes very helpful. Did we whip the ricotta?"

"For the cheesecake or the meatballs?" Belle asked.

Libby scoffed, "cheesecake doesn't have ricotta in it."

Belle rolled her eyes, "it does too."

"For either." Irene snapped.

"Well, you put me in charge of dessert." Belle informed the room.

"Why even distinguish which one she was asking about then?" Libby argued.

"Because I was put in charge of dessert, but I've been caramelizing onions because someone thought that meant putting actual caramel on the onions!" Belle sneered.

"How was I supposed to know that's not what it means?" Libby yelled.

"Maybe if you made something other than meat and potatoes that have less flavor than a piece of carboard." Belle countered.

Libby's face flushed red. "How dare you! You said my potatoes were divine."

Belle smirked, "I was being polite. They are divine, for a soup kitchen."

"That's it!"

Libby started to lunge at Belle but was intercepted by Irene. Though on accident. The two collided and an entire bowl of flower fell to the floor and shattered. Covering both of them.