Jun 17, 2014
Dirk ==> Make some brats.
The grill sizzled and popped with grease from the sausage as Dirk watched them brown, sipping his beer and rubbing Cal's ears with his hand. He'd given Dave his coordinates a little while ago, telling him to pop over whenever he felt ready, and that there would be pretty of food. In the meantime he continued to let the corn grill, his iPhone on a little speaker and blaring classic rock.
He barely heard the sound of the transportalizer engaging over the music, flipping a brat with his tongs and then sticking his head back in the door to the kitchen. "Hey, m'out back. Grub's almost ready. If ya want a beer I'll make a face at ya, but they're in th'fridge."
