Living in the Rocket sub was fucking awful. She didn't care who said it or why, but living underwater absolutely fucking sucked. It made her nauseous, it made her irritable, it made her suffer from lack of sleep.

And it was that lack of sleep right now that had her up. Or maybe it wasn't early in the morning or late at night like she thought. Regardless, she was, at one point, the only person in the dining hall fixing herself food. The only person, it felt like, who existed at all, until a voice muttered behind her to startle her.

"Oh--fuck. I didn't hear you come in."

She quickly plucks the earbuds out of her ears and glances over her shoulder, and, naturally, does a double-take. His comment, his apology, comes filtering back in like a hollow echo. She listens this time, and she smirks, raises an eyebrow, and snorts.

"I sure hope you don't say that to everyone? Sure hope not, 'cause that's embarrassing."

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

"Huh."

Either he was purposely misinterpreting her inappropriate joke, or purposely misdirecting it himself. Tickle her amused.

"I'm sure there are some who do."

Ah, and there it is, he finishes his punchline, if one could even call it that. He's even washing vegetables with hands she could only assume had once been bloody. Professional hand-washer, interesting.

"Hot pockets, but they don't have any."

In other words, she's lazy. In extra words, she was probably about to leave just before he'd arrived. Steal something quick and easy like crackers and cheese and make her way back to her room and wait for the submarine to stop somewhere. God, she could use a stiff drink.

"Are you okay? I've never seen a man prepare vegetables of his own accord before."

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

Remi wasn't the type to take anyone seriously, really. Especially not someone who dried their vegetables after washing them. That required a sense of lunacy that not even she had - though she was the one fishing for hot pockets. And she was the type to microwave that shit too, for efficiency sake.

"It's an efficient dinner, you mean. Cheese, meat, breading, it's the whole shebang."

He stops paying her any attention, and it amuses her further. He was unenthusiastic and socially boring- and yet.. sarcastic and participating in conversation with her anyway.

She liked that.

"Very. Most men I'm familiar with survive on booze alone, microwave meals second."

She would know.

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

Perhaps it should scare her, the knife pointed at her chest and the thoughtful pause while he toys with changing his mind. Perhaps it should scare her more that it leaves her more interested than she had been a moment ago.

The guy was interesting.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

His new addition to the broth allows its flavourful aroma to rise. Admittedly, it smells incredible. It even encourages her stomach to groan in anticipation, though she gives that reaction no attention whatsoever.

"Must be your secret to keeping in shape."

With a tilt of her head, she observes the man with an amused, only slightly predatory smirk on her face. He reiterates his earlier question, and she purses her lips.

"Do you want me to join you?"

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

"Suppose I am."

She parrots him, amused, tilting her head to pursue his gaze even after he pulls away to continue tossing more and more vegetables and meat and God knows what else in that damn boiling pot of his.

"Forgiven, I guess."

She rolls her eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a moment and then away to the shitty backsplash and the tables in the dining hall. There is no one, nothing, not a peep or a shadow on the other side of the room. The dining hall is empty.

"Hm."

With his back turned, she takes another glance, because why not? He's good-looking, with an attention to detail and good with his hands.

He makes eye contact before she has a proper chance to look away. Fortunately, she's been side-eyeing with her eyepatch turned to face him, so it easily looks dismissed as her not having been looking at him at all.

Hold on, is he blushing?

Remi exhales loudly through her nose, a non-verbal laugh.

"Is it better than hot pockets?"

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

It smelled far, far better than cheap hot pockets thrown in a microwave for a few seconds. And she reckoned the center of the bowl was just as piping hot as the outside was, which was a far cry better for the soul than soulless evil pizza-filled still-frozen-in the centre--

"Alright then."

A bowl is handed to her, its contents nearly too hot. She shuffles it from side to side as she takes it from him, careful not to let her fingers linger in one place for too long.

"Someone's a bit touchy about their food tasting good. I see you, I hear you, I'll try it, relax."

Remi smiles slightly, a sarcastic tone in her voice. He grabs utensils and she reaches for her own. She takes her time, however, allowing space to open up between them. Couldn't have him interpreting the wrong signals, after all.

"Remi."

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

With pursed lips, Remi brings the bowl to her nose to inhale, deeply. Despite how completely out of character it was for her to be indulging in actual good-for-the-soul healthy food instead of nursing the bottom of a bottle of hard liquor, she seems.. willing.

She must be sick. How long has it been since her last fix?

"I'm insulted."

But she sits down across from him anyway. And she indulges him by plugging a spoon into the soup, stirring, and glancing back up at him. What she sees is a bizarre, charismatic man whose handsomeness is smudged by the unbecoming cheek bulge full of food. Talking before chewing and swallowing- no one was perfect.

"Julien..."

She plays with the syllables, letting it roll over her tongue slowly, deliberately. There is something intentionally feral about it, but played up subtly. She's toying with him, really, pushing to see if he'd break. So far, it seems he hasn't even noticed.

So she takes a bite, teeth clicking against the metal spoon to avoid the sting of too much heat all at once. She hums thoughtfully, licking her lips.

"Have you ever had a hot pocket?"

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉