001 [The Cafeteria]

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[It was lunchtime, finally. Remy thought he'd been clever, signing up for this school in this new world.  If he was going to be stuck here, he thought, having every resource possible at his disposal would be a great idea, right?  He'd only been to four classes so far, though, and he was convinced he'd underestimated, well, everything.  His notes were spread across the square table in front of him in a haphazard fashion.  Notes of Garden Code, notes on regiment formation, notes on this, notes on that.  His red and black gaze swept across the scattering of papers before him, seeing, but not really comprehending.  What had he gotten himself wrapped up in again?  He heaved a tired sigh and rubbed his hands across his face, then running his fingers through his hair, and licked his lips.  He was Remy leBeau. He could break into anyone's house, steal all their valuables, and escape without a trace.  He could handle a little schooling.  This was nothing.  He wished he believed himself.

He took a sip from the fountain drink that had accompanied his lunch (he hadn't been lucky enough to score one of the Garden's famous hot dogs and had sufficed with a chicken sandwich) and picked up the notes from his first class, Garden Code or whatever it was.  He read it for all of five seconds before putting it down and heaving a loud sigh.]

Nom de Dieu, this place gonna be the death of you, leBeau.

[OOC: /is nervous. I hope I did this right. Anyway, anyone ever is free to bug him in the Cafeteria at lunch. He'll probably welcome the distraction XD]

Comments

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[Remy looked up, an eyebrow raised. French? Here? Did they even have a France here? ...probably not. He smiled a cocky, self-confident grin, and went about clearing a space of his gratuitous notes. His response was also in French, of the Cajun dialect.]

Sure thing, my friend. Take a seat. The name's Remy. Remy leBeau. You?

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[Remy keeps smiling, but leans back, crossing his arms behind his head and putting his feet up on the table.]

Pleasure to meet you, Abel. Now, are you talking about this week or originally?

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[He nods, still grinning. He isn't exactly sure, but there's something he likes about this guy. Maybe it was just familiarity. Something from home. He can't put his finger on it, but it's nice.]

The Big Easy. Well, a little outside of town, but yeah.

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[Remy shifts, putting his feet back on the floor and leaned against the table slightly. He's talking about food, and after the passable chicken sandwich he'd had, Remy's mind quickly shifts to gumbo. He looks proud, even if there is a vague sort of sadness in the set of his eyes. He misses his home.]

Definitely. Good old southern hospitality at it's finest, Abel. Now, New Orleans has the best food in the US, just so you know.

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[Remy's eyebrows shoot up. There's a cooking club? He's eating crepes. Remy doesn't remember seeing crepes on the menu. His smile changes. It isn't cocky anymore. If anything, it's excited.]

Cooking Club, huh? Tell you what, Abel. You tell me when and where, and I'll teach you all you want to know: Gumbo, Jambalaya, Beignets, Boudoin, Chicken Fricassee, you name it.

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[He takes the crepe, holding it up as one would offer a glass for a toast before taking a bite.]

Done. I like your style, my friend.

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You haven't seen style, yet, Abel. You just wait.

[Strawberries and cream crepes are a fantastic desert, if he does say so himself. And they aren't bad, either.]

Did you make this? [he looks impressed.]

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It's not flashy, [He grins again.] but it works.

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[He laughs.] True enough.

[He finishes off his own crepe. Table manners aren't exactly Remy's forte.] Maybe we could petition for it. [True to form, Remy is already including himself in group activities.]

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[He shrugs.] Never know unless you try, right? Besides, it smells like a baseball stadium in here. If this is a combat school, shouldn't they be serving, I don't know, good stuff?

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[Remy pauses, considering this. After a pause, he nodded.] We've got a saying in English. Never look gift-horse in the mouth. I hear that. Maybe we'll hold off.

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[He nods again.] Okay, Abel. You're the boss. We'll keep it at that. [He looks back down at his notes. He hadn't even organized them when he'd moved them. He chuckles at himself.] So, have you been here long?