There’s a sigh—and then another sigh. A single mushroom.
One (1) singular mushroom. Okay, letting him choose was a mistake.
But.. at least his creative side takes the driver’s seat before he can lecture him about manners and common sense ( mostly because they won’t reach this inebriated wall of tantou ), and he takes the mushroom in a gloved hand. “Hmm.. noodles? Perhaps, the famous Mitsutada Udon will be light and filling enough for you—yes, that sounds like a great idea!”
Daikiri flips around to take out of a cutting board, and tosses the mushroom on it, where it lands with a muffled thud. Knowing where everything is with his eyes closed, the tachi is already making bounds around the kitchen grabbing ingredients–soup base, green onions, pre-prepared udon. Maybe he spent a little too much time here.. “Fudou, can you fill the pot on the stove most of the way with water? It’ll mean you have to put down your beverage, but you can put it wherever you’d like. I don’t expect this to take too long,” he asks, bringing all of the ingredients together next to the cutting board easily.
“It might be a good idea to use the whole batch of udon anyway.. there’s no reason to only use a little bit when other toudan might be hungry in a little bit. Sometimes you do have a stroke of genius, eh? As expected of a Nobunaga sword!—Oh, grab me the rolling pin, please?”
Fudou smiles, just a little, as if it’s a physical effort to keep the corners of his mouth there. But with Shokudaikiri seeming so chipper to cook for him, it’s an effort he’s willing to make, for a few moments, anyway. “Mm... Sounds good to me.”
Fudou’s eyes follow the mushroom as it reaches the cutting board, and he watches it for a few seconds before he hears his name. “Huh?” He blinks, first at Shokudaikiri, then at the glass in his hand, then at the pot on the stove. “You... want me to help?” Sure, just earlier, Shokudaikiri had mentioned that he might have to do things today, but this was a different kind of questioning. As was probably obvious to anyone, he wasn’t too apt in the kitchen at all, even if he were sober. With a bit of reluctance, he places the cup on the counter, doing a double take at it to make sure it was still there. Just in case...
He does his best to steel himself with determination to do things steadily, and takes the pan from the stove. Got it. Now, he brings it to the sink, puts it in, and turns on the water. Easy! He’s doing it! He’s cooking!
He turns to look back at Shokudaikiri, and he’s almost taken aback by that compliment. Even in this state, he’s... pretty sure that wasn’t his idea, and he was pretty sure that he was no genius, no matter how he might gloat about being treasured by Nobunaga. “I... Thanks...” He doesn’t know why he said thanks, but he shakes it off by looking around, squinting a little, to spot the rolling pin that was asked for.
After a bit of internal I Spy he finally finds it, and grabs it to hand it to Shokudaikiri-- and while he does so, he peers at the ingredients he’s set out, forgetting for now about the pot in the sink. “What’re you doin’ with the rolling pin?”
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