strangetrip | Happy Thanksgiving?

Entry tags:

Happy Thanksgiving? - OTA

Dyson had been kind enough to acquiesce to Bo's request to find a wild turkey and bring it back so she could make a Thanksgiving turkey. He had told her he would cook it over a fire, but Bo was determined to make the turkey the proper way with stuffing and whatever. She wanted there to be at least a little bit of home here and channeling her energy into this felt a lot more productive right now than waiting for Regina and Dyson to figure out how to get the arch to actually be magical so it could be used as the first trial.

So when the fire alarm sounded from the kitchen, it was probably a bad sign. So was the smoke that seeped through the cracks of the kitchen door.

Bo coughed as she waved a cloth at the oven and then retrieved a very burned turkey from the oven. Charred might be a better descriptor. She coughed and set the pan on the counter. "I swear I followed the directions to the letter."

Except she had used Celsius instead of Fahrenheit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jackson had been called over by the sound of the fire alarm, a sound he had learned to identify the first time he had wanted a smoke inside his room.

At least it didn't look like this one had set off any sprinklers.

"'m sure you did, darlin'," he said, pushing his voice to be heard over the sound of the alarm, and coughed a little at the smoke. It was easy enough to climb on the counter and disable the alarm, with the practiced ease of someone who disabled the one in his room every morning, so he could have a smoke in peace. "There, that's better," he stated, and jumped back down to the floor.

He winced at the charred remains of the bird she'd taken out of the oven. "That meant to be a turkey?"

She watched him disable the alarm and looked thankful when the alarm went off. At least there wasn't any more sound to announce her failure.

Bo pouted. "It might still be salvageable."

Maybe as a torture device.

"Might be," Jackson confirmed, and coughed again a little. "Not sure as what."

Could you even club someone on the head with it? The bird looked charred enough it might just crumble and do very little damage.

She sent him a playful 'hey!' expression, then smiled just a little. "So you don't want to taste test it for me?" She stuck out her tongue at him.

"That ain't gettin' anywhere near my mouth, darlin'," Jackson replied with a shake of his head, and a healthy dose of amusement. "You wanna crack it open, see if there's anything salvageable inside?"

"That's the first time a guy has said that to me" she flashed him an amused grin - she couldn't help herself with that one.

But she decided to find out if the turkey was salvageable and reached for a knife. It was serated which was good considering she was going to have to saw it like wood.

Jackson decided to help, and grabbed a hold of the charred bird to keep it in place. "Don't saw my hands off, all right? I like 'em." His small smile seemed to say that he wasn't the only one, either.

"Wouldn't want to damage a hot commodity." She winked at him.

It took some doing, but she managed to get passed the black part. There was a small layer of actually cooked turkey and then the rest was raw. Bo let out a huff. "This is why people invented take out."

"Take out?" Jackson echoed curiously. He let go of the bird to go find some decent knives to work with, then set to work slicing the cooked meat out of the charred remains of the bird. His surgeon's skills had to be good for something.

It took Bo a second - right, from the past.

"Basically you want food, you pick up the phone and someone drives it over. Mostly popular with Chinese and Greek food, and Pizza." Stuff she and Kenzi basically lived off of.

Bo watched him work. "You're good."

"Autopsies were my bread and butter for a while there," Jackson replied, apparently unaware of how that could sound.

"I feel like I should be insulted, but you're not wrong. This is definitely a very dead bird." Definitely sort of like a postmortem. "You know, I used to date a doctor who did autopsies occasionally."

Jackson shot her an amused look at her statement - very dead sounded about right - then went back to salvaging what little meat had cooked. "Occasionally?" The phrasing was odd, and made it sound like a hobby. (He wouldn't blame that doctor, though. Autopsies were interesting.)

"She was also basically like the Doc you went to if you were sick or had a disease or needed a prescription, so she was busy. But, between you and me, I think she liked opening things up and seeing how they worked." And that was okay with Bo, actually. Lauren's passions were what made Lauren special.

"That's... one reason to practice autopsies," Jackson confirmed. "Grab me a plate, darlin'?"

Bo grabbed a plate. "What about you? Why'd you decide to deal in dead bodies?"

"I didn't, a stubborn Englishman did," Jackson replied as he transferred the edible bits of turkey to the plate. "Detective Inspector Edmund Reid," he added, enunciated each vowel carefully, although he didn't take a shot at Reid's accent. "He thought I could help him with a murder. And then another, and another. Gave me a reason to get out of the brothel, anyway."

"Brothel, huh." It made a little more sense, maybe, how she felt naturally drawn to Jackson. He clearly wasn't a man who considered sex something to hide. "Murders and women - some would say that's the life."

"Some would be right," Jackson confirmed, flashing her a smile. "Well, add some liquor to the mix and you've got the real trifecta."

"I'm more of a liquor, girls and guys gal. Murder I can do without. Though handcuffs can be fun." She flashed a similar smile right back at him.

"Spoken like someone who's never been in them for the wrong kind of reason," Jackson replied, amused. "Although they seem less cumbersome now, accordin' to the motion pictures I've watched."

But the ones from his time? No, he'd be fine never bringing them into bed. Scarves could do the job just as well. No need to damage anyone's wrists for a bit of fun.

"Oh, they are. Some are even fuzzy." She winked. "And there's a bunch of different kinds, too." Which is to say that it probably sounded like if Jackson wanted to dabble, she might have the various kinds at her disposal. "Although nothing really beats silk rope."

Jackson straightened up, and pointed at her with the knife he held. "My point exactly." Next, he gestured at the very dead bird. "Think I've saved all that I could."

She looked at the small amount that Jackson was able to salvage and sighed. "Well, I guess I could make a sandwich, huh?" That wasn't too bad, right? "I'm definitely not going to live this down for a while with Dyson."

"Take it we don't have an extra turkey lying around for you to try this again," Jackson stated, putting the knives down and moving to the sink to wash his hands. Habit, after cutting into something dead.

Happy Thanksgiving? - OTA

Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson

Re: Bo & Jackson