[Rosmerta Winery] One-upmanship

[Vega]

121st Ashan, 718

The woman who greeted them when they arrived at the Rosmerta Winery had really got Vega's back up. She was a beautiful redhead and she was a flirty one, too. But Vega was determined, they were going to have a nice time. She had arranged a number of things for them, roping Jonas and Joq'an in on the plans. Strelza, for such she introduced herself as, had been more than happy to show them to their suite of rooms. It was strange, because no one asked for any money ~ but that was because Jonas had very kindly come out here and paid for everything (with money Vega had insisted he took) before they arrived. She knew Arlo too well to think that he'd be comfortable standing next to her as she paid, and also he might just try and sneak and do it himself. So, his father had helped out.

Once they got shown to their suite, though, Vega forgot about Strelza and her swaying hips. They had a very large canopy bed in the spacious room, a whole spare bedroom, a bathroom with a deep sunk marble bath and a living area which opened out onto the grounds, where they had private decking, a copper fire pit for cooking and stunning views over the vineyard. "Do you like it?" Her eyes danced with delight as she asked that. "I've booked us in for a wine tastin' tomorrow night, an' then there's a dinner dance on the next night, which I thought might be fun?" Grinning at him, she moved over and put her arms around his waist. "There's a spa, too, an' we're booked in for a couples trial, whatever that means. We get massages, an' wine an' food an' private use of the pool an' stuff. Far as I can tell, anyhow."

The place itself, set in such a large amount of land was secluded and here in their suites they could be the only people for miles. It was the kind of place where she'd made sure to put on a nice dress, a tight black one, plain everywhere except for the black lace edging along the bottom of it just below her knees was very figure hugging. The only jewellery she wore, as ever, was her bracelet and her hair was loose, but she'd put the treatments on it the trial before, the ones she'd bought in Scalvoris and it was ~ as Vega put it ~ currently tamed. She touched her nose to his and whispered. "It's a really, really big bath, Arlo. Did you notice?"

With an expression of pure mischief on her face, she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him in the very opposite direction of the bathroom or bedroom and instead to the sliding glass doors out on to the decking. "But right now, we've got somewhere to be. I arranged for us to 'ave a private lesson." Vega glanced at him and she grinned. "In makin' stuff with chocolate. Candies an' that. I thought it would be good for you to know the basics. Recognise what's what. Hopefully, it'll avoid us havin' to go to actin' class to pretend to be better Health Inspectors, yeah?" Her expression was teasing, but equally she thought that he would like to work with an artisan, someone who would be able to teach Arlo tips and techniques. Vega had no doubt that she was beyond any hope of learning anything, but that really wasn't the point.

Multi coloured eyes dominated by vivid green looked at him and she spoke in her usual terms of endearment. "Come on, Creede. Stop yer lollygaggin'."

Item	Cost	Total
Silver Suite x 3 nights	54gn	54gn
Wine Tasting for 2	50gn	104gn
Spa Day for 2 (guesstimate)	50gn	154gn
Hire of Patisserie bloke (guesstimate)	46gn	200gn

[Arlo Creede]

Arlo had only needed to catch a glimpse of the place from a distance, and know a bare minimum about it already, before he'd begun to tease Vega, albeit with great affection. "You trying to outdo me?" he said, eyeing the group of structures while he'd walked hand in hand with her. She'd done that for sure, and Arlo was sure she'd spent too much money doing it. He'd even tried to head out to the place in advance and leave some nels at the desk for their expenses, but he'd met Jonas on the road as he'd approached, and told he might as well turn back. Figured.

But he'd get to show her off, and that alone was probably worth the price. Vega looked stunning and he'd told her so more than once already that trial. As for him, he wore one of his better sets of clothing by far and had made something of an effort to tame his own hair. With mixed results, since it ws too long to stay in one place and too short to bind up properly at the nape of his neck. The hat helped, except he'd be removing it once they'd gotten indoors.

"She's friendly don't you think?" he teased again as they stepped into their room, referring to the woman who'd greeted them. He could almost see the hackles raising up along Vega's back and in honestly the thought amused him. Didn't she know that he hadn't the eyes for anyone else? The only room he'd ever seen that rivaled this one, was the one he'd dressed in before the dinner, back in that tower in Scalvoris. But that one couldn't hold a candle to this one after all. Vega hadn't been there. "We could have a swim in that tub," he said.

But even a private deck overlooking the vineyard too? 'It's safe to say I do," he said when she asked if he liked it, and he pulled her into his arms to give her a kiss. "Thank you Vega. It's too much you know, and you're spoiling me. But I won't complain." He might, just a little and mostly on principle if some stranger was giving him a massage and got a bit too personal for his tastes. How did she manage to plan all this, he asked as she took his his hand and said something about private lessons. Lessons in what?

Making candy. Arlo snorted and grinned, shaking his head. "You'll never let me forget it will you?" But truth was, every since he'd bought those chocolates back in Scalvoris, he thought he might like to learn how to make them himself. He figured he could find a way, and it would be as easy to do in a galley or over a campfire as anywhere else. Where they were headed of course was a very large kitchen, and a very well appointed one too. Not the sort of kitchen he ever got to cook in, though roughing it was honestly more his style. Most of it was white too, from the floors to the walls and ceilings, to the cabinets and countertops. Including the chef or whatever he called himself, who was dressed in white apron and a silly looking hat that resembled a sort of overblown muffin at the top.

[Vega]

"Tryin' to outdo you?" Vega asked, innocence on her face and in her voice. "I don't know why you'd think such things of me, Arlo. My heart is breakin' at those words." Her eyes betrayed her of course and the fact that she couldn't hide the grin on her face didn't help any. "An' besides. I'm not tryin' to do anythin'. Yer outclassed, an' that's that." She'd snorted when he told her she looked stunning, but she was pleased there was no doubting it. Most of the time, she was quite content to be completely unconcerned with how she looked but, every now and then it was good to keep him on his toes.

"Shurrup," she said, thumping him on the arm when he said that Strelza, the woman who'd shown them here, was friendly. It was a good natured thump, though and she grinned at him. "It's jus' like you'd be if it were an' handsome bloke with soulful eyes an' a cheese name who was well put together an' flirty. His chances with me would be as good as her with you, but it wouldn't change your reaction." She was sure that was right, he wouldn't like it. "Besides, she were well put together enough that I noticed her. Not as good as Mixie's knockers mind you." The last she added as an apparent afterthought, casually but the colours in her eyes swirled in amusement as she tormented him.

Held tight against him as he kissed her, Vega came perilously close to forgetting everything she'd arranged "Damnit, Arlo," she mumbled, her head reeling slightly. Sometimes, she wondered how he coped - she wasn't twice blessed of Cassion and he drove her crazy with desire for him. "I'm not spoiling you, you dweeb. I'm spoilin' us." That wasn't at all true, of course, she wanted to spoil him but equally, if he was happy, she was. He looked a little concerned at the thought of the spa, though, so Vega told him what was actually happening. "I didn't think you'd like it if some stranger had their mitts all over you." It wouldn't be good for them being invited back, she said most seriously, if she concussed the pretty female masseuse or he did the same to the handsome male one. "So we're gonna learn how to massage. On each other. There'll be the people there teachin' us, but no one else is gettin' their hands on your bare oiled flesh, thanks muchly."

As for how she'd done this? That was simple. "Mr Creede helped me loads, so did Papa. I couldn't 'ave done it without them." But yes, making candy. When he said that she was never going to let him forget it, she grinned. "Why'd you want to? It was the first time I'd laughed from my belly in such a long time. I was walkin' when they said I wouldn't be yet, an' because of it, we met Officer Flopsy. All good stuff came from it." Her grin then turned wicked, slightly crooked and her eyes flooded with colours which only he ever saw. "Plus, it sparked all sorts of good ideas, didn't it?" As they walked to the kitchens, hand in hand, Vega wondered apparently quite seriously. "I wonder if anyone's written a book."

When they saw the chef, though, Vega descended into a coughing fit and the man in question looked most put out. "Good hat," she said and he sniffed. "We begin," he said, ignoring Vega mostly, "with beans. Here, the cocoa beans." Passing out said bean to both of them, he then explained. "I roast them. In a hot oven until they crack. Check them after a quarter break, roast them no longer than twenty bits." Vega was already bored, but also not. "Your woman, she tells me," 'your woman'? Vega bit back a snippy retort but said nothing, "that you travel. You can also roast in a drum over a flame, so long as it rotates. Then, you let them cool, crack with a hammer, peel and remove the husks. Here. You." He gave them both a small bowl of pre-roasted beans, a hammer and the other things they'd need.

"Umm..." Vega said as the sound of her hammer hitting resonated through the kitchen and bits of decimated bean flew everywhere. "I hit it a bit too 'ard an' it were a bit too brittle." The chef, who had not bothered to introduce himself looked at her and shook his head. "Gentle but firm. It is not a monster to slay." Vega frowned and her expression told her thought process. Was he stupid? "I don't think it's a monster. I think it's a nut. An' it's in good company. Righteo. I'll try another, lets not over react. An' you can stop showin' off too."

After about five bits of working to get the cocoa beans, Vega looked at what Arlo had done and then at the chaos at her work area and she sighed. "I've got bean bits on my dress, too." The chef frowned at her and brought out a very heavy looking mortar and pestle-affair which he seemed unsure to let Vega near. "Now, we will grind them into the finest powder possible." Vega nudged Arlo and whispered. "I don't think I'm very good at this, you know." Her grin, though, was delighted and when the chef turned around, she motioned to the top of his hat.

Where sat a single, still whole bean. Meanwhile Vega looked, once more, the very picture of innocence.

[Arlo Creede]

Outclassed? There was no question about that. He was, though Vega would never hear him admit it. Vega had outdone herself though, and him. That was for sure. She was right on another count too. There wasn't a man in thirty miles with perfect teeth and eyes for Vega, that he didn't want to turn upside down and inside out. He didn't need to confirm or deny it. She knew that too.

Instead, Arlo chose to tease her. Mixiebelle? He took on a thoughtful, faraway expression and even put a single finger to his chin as if he was putting some effort into remembering. "They were a wonder weren't they?" Arlo recalled. Those knockers. That ample bosom. Defied gravity, they did. "They could easily have doubled as a tray to carry her drinks on." Any farther with that and Vega was likely to punch him. In truth, he'd wondered back then how the woman was able to walk completely upright. Clearly, gravity had been on her side.

But a kiss was always a very good distraction. And while he'd have resisted and complained had the plans for a massage been what he'd first assumed them to be, the idea that they'd be massaging each other changed everything. "I can live with that," he quipped, and kissed her again before he let her go. "If anyone was to write a book about all the troubles we've gotten into since we met, they'd need to make a second, third and a fourth edition," he said.

The chef they happened on was a source of entertainment, all on his own. Though Arlo put a lot of effort into putting on a solemn and attentive expression. The hat didn't help. Nor did the man calling Vega his woman. A bark of laughter was suppressed only to the extent that it sounded like a muffled snort and a brief coughing fit. Beans and a hammer though, that he could do. Drum over a fire though. Very good idea. Vega was in high form, the chef seemed oblivious to her jabs but Arlo was not. Which meant he kept his head diligently bent to his task and worked on cracking the beans and not having them fly off in random directions.

Vega wasn't quite as successful at that, but certainly kept things interesting. One of the things even bounced off his cheek. "Finesse," he whispered in her ear. The bean nestled in the top of the chef's hat was his undoing however and Arlo snorted before the man looked his way. "You have something caught in your throat. Would you like a glass of water sir?"[/b] Schooling his expression back in order, Arlo smiled, declined and thanked the man before poking Vega in the ribs with his elbow. Grinding the beans though. That he could do. "So there's dark chocolate and light colored chocolate, yes?" he asked. Did it have to do with milk content, he wondered?

[Vega]

When he went on a little reminisce about Mixibelle and her gravity-defying breasts, Vega glanced down at her own less than ample bosom and sighed dramatically. Shoulders sagging, she turned away and then span back around and threw the pair of socks she'd picked up straight at him. "I think we should 'ave a rule, you know. About you not talkin' about Mixie's knockers. Or anyone's, come to that." She grinned at him as she said it, obviously completely unconcerned, which was unusual for her in one way. Yet, in another - these trials - not. She hated Mixie's impossible cleavage on principle and didn't doubt for a moment that, should it be waved in front of Arlo, he'd notice it and then some. He was a young man with all the usual sorts of urges young men got and, more than that, he was Cassion blessed twice over. He noticed swaying grass, so an impossible pair were not going to go amiss. He'd see. He'd look. He might even have trouble not looking, but that would be where it stopped and she was just fine with that. "Urgh," she said, a grimace on her face even though her eyes twinkled with mirth. "I think I've jus' realised that I'm in a committed, grown up relationship with a man who loves me. Aw, crud." Stepping into his arms, she looked up at him and grinned. "That sucks, that does. I'd better leg it before things go too far an' I'm stuck for life."

It was difficult, stepping away from him and his pleasure at the massage lessons delighted her. But when he spoke about the book and it needing volumes, Vega burst out laughing and flapped her hands at him in a most non-Vega like way. "Oh! Oh! I didn't mean that!" Her guffaws caused her to more or less double up. "I meant a book, Arlo. From the not-candy shop. A book. With picutres." Wickedly, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "An' possibly, instructions." Maybe the name of a good doctor if one of them put their backs out, she added and briefly nipped at his ear, then skipped off out of arms reach.

As they walked to the kitchen, every now and then she chuckled. It was, for whatever reason made sense in Vega's head, the idea of a fourth edition which had pushed her into hysterics. It put her on a back foot with the chef to begin with and Arlo really didn't help. His woman, indeed. As she hit the beans too hard with her hammer, Arlo leaned over and whispered in her ear. Finesse? Vega looked at him, hit another bean into smithereens and said, utterly calmly and in the deepest, gruffest voice she could muster with a mock frown on her face. "Wo-man hit thing big hit. Wo-man hit things good. Man cook." The chef looked delighted at that, which was really not what Vega was going for, in truth. "Most of the best chefs, they are men, yes. You, you have no gentleness in your touch. No delicacy, yes? He, he has finesse, a delicate touch." Vega raised an eyebrow and asked, entirely seriously. "If you want me to be gentle, why'd you give me a hammer?" It's not a feather duster is it? It's for hittin' things. I'm very good at that. Got finesse an' everythin'." The chef pursed his lips and decided there and then that he was going to ignore her.

That suited Vega just fine. The next few beans got the same treatment, but Arlo knew her too well to think that she feeling anything except enjoyment at irritating the man in the hat. Said man continued. "It is about the cocoa butter and milk. The more of one, the less of the other. More cocoa butter for darker chocolate, more milk for milk chocolate." He gestured to the equipment he had brought out. "This process, pressing the beans as we will, will produce cocoa liquor, a liquid which the beans secrete. We pass that through a cloth, very fine, and that separates out the butter." He showed them both, although he focused on Arlo much, much more, illustrating the grinding then pressing of the beans. Tiny amounts of liquid dripped out and he explained that doing this was a three, sometimes four trial long endeavour. Vega piped up at that, "So, we travel on a boat, it might be a good thing to set up this stuff when we're travelin', yeah?" The chef nodded, begrudgingly. Vega, who was not to be deterred, beamed at him. "Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without yer 'elp an' enthusiasm."

He, in turn, huffed at her and then brought out a block of what looked, for all the world, like butter. It didn't smell like it though. "This, eventually, is what you get. Cocoa butter. Half and half this with milk is medium, usual chocolate. The more butter, the less milk. Now, melt it in a double boiler, melt it on heat, not letting water near it. Water is bad. No wood utensils here, wood gets water in it, it leaks into the mix and the chocolate is ruined. You understand. Finesse." Vega nudged him. "Yeah, Arlo. Pay attention. Finesse." She smiled at the chef and he handed them both a tray with all the ingredients they'd need for the next bit.

[Arlo Creede]

"Oh, the hypocrisy," Arlo had shot back dramatically, and teasingly. After all, it was Vega who'd brought up the topic of Mixiebelle and her bosom. Was he not then to imagine all the possibilities. Such as, how useful the things might be during a shipwreck, to double as flotation devices? That little gem was probably better left unspoken, Arlo had thought. Probably wisely. He'd probably told Vega before that it wasn't his preference. Maybe he hadn't but chances were she'd have claimed she didn't believe him. Physically speaking, he liked a little balance in his women. And things with Mixiebelle had made a mockery of the very concept of balance.

When he was little, he told her, anyone over thirty was halfway to the grave already. He'd vowed never to grow up or at least get all the living in that he could, before time itself betrayed him. "Responsibility was a dirty word back then," he said. Sometimes, if you were talking about tidy clapboard houses, window boxes and white picket fences, it still was so far as he was concerned.

Whichever the case, the chef's way of being and Vega's antics in kind was making it difficult to take the task of chocolate making seriously. It was an effort, suppressing his own nature in the form of a grin or snort of amusement. "Stop it," he even said once, whispering quietly in her ear. Not because she was giving the chef a hard time, but because it was making it difficult for him to contain himself. The man probably chose the best way to go, feigning ignorance.

"Cocoa butter," Arlo repeated when the chef brought the stuff out and placed it in front of them. Arlo had heard of it. He'd just never used it himself and regardless of whether it was the popular thing to do, he ran an exploratory finger across the surface of it, then rubbed the residue between two fingers. "I imagine that has all sorts of uses. Like a treatment for dry skin maybe, or even stopping a stitched wound from scarring. If you could keep the bees and flies away after," he declared. But right. Chocolate.

"Milk makes the chocolate softer though doesn't it?" he wondered. That was his experience anyway. Dark chocolate seemed to snap a bit, while milk chocolate was softer. "What about white chocolate?" He didn't even like white chocolate. It was foul stuff but he was still curious. "All of it in the world," he said to Vega as he set up his ingredients in the double boiler and set it on to heat. Finesse, that was.

[Vega]

If she lived to be a hundred, Vega considered, she'd never understand Arlo. Quite what he'd meant by his response to her, when he'd spoken about responsibility being a dirty word she didn't know. It followed, she guessed, from her saying that she'd realised that she was in a committed relationship and making a joke of it but, quite how that got to responsibility she didn't know. Still. This was Arlo and the way he thought was different than the way she did. Also, she reasoned, thinking about it as they hit beans with hammers, she had been a responsibility to him just lately. That might be why, she supposed, but the bottom line? She'd never understand him.

With pursed lips she raised an eyebrow when he told her to stop it. "I don't know what you mean." Vega lied with a smile. She knew exactly what he meant, of course, but she did tone it down once he'd said that, and she tried to pay more attention. It was boring for her, she had no interest in this as a topic at all, but it wasn't for him and she'd done it so he'd learn things he wanted to learn. That being the case, she should behave herself and let him learn.

So, when the chef put the ingredients down in front of them, Vega watched what Arlo was doing and tried to copy him as the chef answered. "Yes! Milk makes it softer, but there is little to no milk in white chocolate. It is mostly cocoa butter." When Arlo touched the butter, the chef looked like he might have some kind of seizure, but he said nothing. "To make white chocolate, you would use no cocoa powder, all butter. It is butter, honey and a tiny splash of milk, usually with a vanilla bean in there." It was hard to work out what he liked less, Vega thought, Arlo's fingers over the cocoa butter, or the prospect of white chocolate. Vega had yet to find a type of chocolate she didn't like, but rather than earn any more of the hat-wearing chef's ire, she kept quiet.

He then went on to talk about the ingredients, each one, and the ratios. "Start, here, with the cocoa liquor. This is the base measure. Twenty percent of that, additionally, is the butter. Then fifty percent sweetening. I use sugar, but others use honey, other things. The same amount of milk and then, vanilla if you wish it." It was fiddly work and Vega let out a huff after a few moments. "Er, I think I've done this wrong?" True to form, she'd over heated and then some, the ingredients had split and she shook her head. "You know, I'm never gonna do this, it's a'right," the chef - apparently ever suffering, was getting her another tray. "I'll just heckle him. If you want, I can do some taste testin' for you?" Later, Vega would tell Arlo most seriously that she thought he'd only given her some different to taste in order to shut her up.

If he had, in fairness, it worked.


"Good! Slowly, bring them together and make sure that you now work it. This part is vital. On a very low heat, you keep it gently moving. It must not solidify, or it is ruined but a batch, this size, it will take maybe ten breaks to fully become smooth." Vega, meanwhile, who he had given a tray to with six little bowls of chocolate drops on, spoke up. "I don't know what this is, but it's delicious. This one." The chef raised an eyebrow. "You have good taste," he tried not to sound surprised and failed. "That is the most expensive, made with the best ingredients and with tiny honeycomb pieces." Turning back to Arlo, he gestured. "My apprentice would not make it that well. You have good skill." As he moved to take the chaos that was Vega's work away, the redhead in question stuck her tongue out at him. "So, once the ten breaks have passed, what do you do then?"

The chef shrugged and smiled, pleased that at least she seemed to be asked questions. She seemed better behaved, he thought, when she wasn't failing dismally at doing the simplest task. "Pour it into moulds, let it cool. Cooling must be slow." He emphasised this and gestured over to a work surface they had not used. "Changes in temperature, sudden ones, they are the death of chocolate. It should be worked on marble, to ensure that it has maximum opportunity to thrive."

Vega looked at him and she sighed slightly. "You even look tidy, still. Look at me." She had bits of cocoa bean in her hair and on her clothes, cocoa powder on her cheek and, generally, she look like she'd caused chaos in a kitchen. But then, she asked the chef with a cheery grin. "So, what's next?"

[Arlo Creede]

It was true. No matter how well they fit together, him and her, and were alike in some ways, Arlo and Vega were very different. Down to the way they thought about things, and the way they believed the other might think. She'd thought she'd been a burden, a responsibility after she'd died, come back and was healing. He'd never once seen it that way. The thought had never occurred to him. It had never been a case of should or must do. It was simply getting through a rough patch together, and doing what came naturally.

Of course in other ways they were perfectly in tune with each other. He'd warned her to behave herself, but Arlo couldn't help but enjoy the effect that Vega's antics had on the man who'd been unlucky enough to draw them as students this trial. And it was making it difficult for him to keep a straight face, in spite of determining that it was him, who'd play the straight man. Thus by default, the sympathetic one or the good student. He couldn't help but grin a little when he left a finger sized trench through the block of cocoa butter, and the chef nearly went to pieces.

"It sounds awfully rich," Arlo remarked, referring to white chocolate. "Not my favorite either. Too sweet. I prefer a little bitter to offset the sweet. Even a sprinkling of course salt or a drizzle of caramel. Or both." Of course he'd never made the stuff before. But he'd tasted it, and knew what he liked. "Heat's too high and heated too quickly," he whispered to Vega when she complained that hers was ruined. "It broke." Of course his own experiment was going fairly well though he might be a bit over cautious in this case.

Ten breaks seemed an awful long time. Still, the chocolate drops that they sampled were delicious. The ones with honeycomb in particular, or very finely chopped nuts mixed in. "It's a little like working with a sauce...butter and the like to serve with poached eggs, isn't it? Fiddly, problematic changes in temperature and air pressure," he considered as the chef put the molds in front of them. "Exactly!" Chef seemed pleased, which was good enough for Arlo.

Him? Tidy? "Course I do," he whispered and grinned as he reached up and added a smudge of chocolate to the tip of her nose. "I'm a professional." The chef, impatient with shenanigans based on mutual affection cleared his throat and placed another tray in front of the pair. "Here is where you can get creative. Take care however, anything you choose to add to your molds may impact the setting process. And naturally, the flavor."[/b] All sorts of interesting things on that tray. Shredded coconut, chopped nuts, caramel, cremes, candied dates and other fruits. Looking over it all for a trill or two, Arlo plucked up a block of toffee that he smashed into small bits to place into a few of the molds. In still others, finely chopped, candied cherries.

[Vega]

"Shurrup," Vega had whispered back when he told her that the heat was too high and she'd broken it. They were standing side by side at their benches and Vega contented herself with glaring at him and bumping her hip against his. Until, that was, she got to eat chocolate. When the chef was pleased with her for being able to tell the really good stuff, Vega beamed and nodded. "You know, when he's not stickin' his finger in the butter or spittin' in yer tea," the chef glanced at his drink in some sort of horror but Vega just carried on. "Arlo here is an amazin' chef. Which means, I get to taste really good food a lot an' I've developed into a right sophisticated sort." When Chef turned round, to pour his tea away as it turned out, Vega looked at Arlo and ever so slowly and seriously, poked her tongue out at him.

Ten breaks to make chocolate? Totally worth it as far as Vega was concerned - she could be developing an addiction to it, she thought. Chocolate, candies and Arlo Creede. If she was going to be addicted, she figured, those were good ones to have. He said something about air pressure, which made no sense to her but the hat-chef was pleased, which was good. But then? Then he put chocolate on her nose. With a grin at him which spoke of quite a different kind of thought process, Vega leaned over and whispered in his ear. "You know," she kept her mouth close to his ear and spoke very, very softly. "I was jus' thinkin' of ways to combine my favourite addictions. You might have hit upon a very good idea there, Arlo." With an entirely innocent expression, she reached up and wiped at the edge of her nose and then tasted the chocolate he'd put there. "Yummy," she concluded, wickedly. "I bet you warm an' melted would be right nice too."

The chef cleared his throat and Vega turned her attention to him. This bit, she had to admit, was interesting and she dragged her mind from the gutter where it was currently and she looked at the contents of the tray. "Are these chillies? I bet you they'd be lovely in really bitter dark chocolate, you know." The chef had to admit, the woman understood chocolate. "Really dark chocolate, lime an' chillies. That would be gert lush that would." Looking up at the chef then, Vega gestured to the utterly decimated area which was her work surface. "I'm not goin' to wreck your place any more. I'll jus' provide useful ideas." He looked like he knew he should argue, but he didn't.

To Arlo, though, she motioned to the cherries. "When I were a kid, my uncle he used to drink this cherry brandy, an' he'd have cherry's soakin' in it. Whiffin' it was an' sweet like syrup. But a little bit of that in there, that'd be right nice I reckon." Come to think of it, they had some of the nicest honey in the world and Vega considered whether she was asking a stupid question, only after she'd asked it. "Is honeycomb made from honey? I mean," shrugging slightly, "If it is, it isn't obvious. It's not made from combs, so why would it be?" At that particular brand of logic the chef's jaw nearly dropped to the floor and he looked at Arlo with an expression on his face which more or less had words written across it.

Is she serious?

It was probably fair to say that he'd never had a pair of students like them. Oblivious, though, Vega also looked at Arlo. "You reckon we could melt this in our rooms?" Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she asked that and she knew that she was being entirely wicked.

[Arlo Creede]

"Of course she's got great taste. She's chosen me hasn't she?" Arlo muttered under his breath, with enough space between him and her so that Vega couldn't jab him on the sly. In fact she'd have to do quite a lot of obvious chasing him down in order to do it. But spitting in the tea? From across the divide, as the chef flinched, Arlo leveled her a narrow eyed glance, promising that at some point when she least expected it, she'd get her comeuppance. And at the same time, he couldn't deny being amused by it all. The chef had never seen them coming, though he would if the opportunity ever came round again.

And that was why he was perfectly alright with Vega's ways, Arlo realized when she whispered a suggestion in his ear. A pot of warm melted chocolate, the two of them alone together? No prying eyes? "I wonder if there's a way to sneak some of this out of here, right out from under his nose," he whispered back, deliberately so that his breath curled round her ear and down her neck. Then he smiled studiously, straightened and gave a solemn expression back to the not so unflappable chef.

She might not be any sort of good cook, but Arlo had to admit that she had a good palate, and a good imagination. The flavors she was suggesting were combinations that promised to be unique and delicious ones. As for brandy? Arlo considered it, smiled, nodded and declared, "Drunk cherries, consider it done." Honeycombs he told Vega, were what the bees put together...their lair, so to speak, and what honey was actually extracted from. It was like beeswax. But honeycomb with actual honey in it was delicious.

Honeycomb candy however was different. Combine sugar, honey, water and golden syrup in a medium saucepan...Add the bicarbonate of soda and quickly stir with a wooden spoon until combined, and so on, and you had honeycomb candy. "No combs are killed or harmed in the process of making honeycomb," he teased her with a grin. The chef might be utterly confounded by a question that appeared all too honest and serious. Arlo? For him it was the usual, and he loved Vega all the more for it.

And for her last question, the chef seemed to come undone altogether, judging by the widening of his eyes and the outraged expression on his face. "Well now...I do think that we have reached the end of your lesson!" Just as well, Arlo thought. The man looked on the verge of a panic attack. But all worthwhile, he thought. All in all? He thought it had gone very well and given the skill, he could keep Vega supplied with all the chocolate that her heart desired.