Chapter 5: Bullshitting 101

 Augustine: Song weaver, self-proclaimed Life Skiller. Amused, but not appeased. 

"And now we dump the powder in with the goo," Vincent tells me, as he is stirring the goo into the cauldron. There is water in the cauldron, as base, and the clumps are beginning to melt. I nod, and begin to pour the slime nucleus powder inside the cauldron.

"Stir clockwise," I tell him, and he blinks at me. "I don't know if you have watched your mother make this, but you should stir clockwise." 

He nods, and begins to stir clockwise. Aha, I got him. 

He doesn't know shit about any slime jell-o. It was all a ruse, to get me to come in here. Chances are, he doesn't know a thing about cooking, bar following simple instructions. I have been bullshitted, and yet...

He can learn. 

To enjoy cooking. 

To cook masterpieces. 

But most importantly, to be more open to other people's passions. 

That is his problem, I decide, as I keep the trickle of the powder to a thin, but steady, line. He thought that, just because he thinks that questing is his life's passion, it should be mine as well. Well, it is not. If he refuses to give a chance to cooking, then I will refuse to party with him again. 

I already know that the jell-o will be a success. Why haven't I figured out that slime nucleus can be crushed into a powder, and used to bring flavor, is beyond me? It is close to the mind. 

Different colored slimes have different colored nucleus. Their goo is flavorless. A survival evolution. Still, it has a slight and pleasant acidity. Even though, it leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Like eating too much chocolate in a short period of time. 

I finish pouring the powder, and go to my bottomless bag. Taking out cups, for the jell-o, takes my mind off things. It will be a pleasant recipe, if my suspicions about the nucleus as a cooking ingredient are true.

There were orange slimes, that taste like oranges, red ones, that taste like strawberries, blue ones, for blueberries, and a couple of multicolored ones, that I am not certain about. 

It will be a fruit salad type of jell-o. I wonder if I will like it? If it is not rich enough, I will set fire under Vincent's tail! I let him finish the jell-o, and I add the gelatin inside the cauldron. Then, we fill the cups with the jell-o. 

"Now, we need to let it cool," he tells me, and I resist the urge to narrow my eyes at him. 

 One step you are certain about, huh? God help you, if this is crap!

I don't let my thoughts to the surface of my brain. Instead, I smile sweetly at him, and sit on the grass. I pat the spot next to me, and wait for him to sit. When he does, I lean into him. 

"So, why do you want to become an adventurer?" I ask him. I just want to know why someone will lie to me, about something that I value above all else. Yes, a single recipe might not be a big deal. But it is the action that peeves me. 

"I want to protect the world," he tells me, as he sighs. "I know that, for you, it is a silly thought. An archer, turning into a Hero? Those haven't been seen, since Gerald the Swift. However, I have hope, that I can make the cut." 

I bite my lower lip. The conviction with which he speaks moves me. I almost forgive him for lying to me. Almost...

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"Tell me, why do you enjoy cooking so much?" He asks me, and I blink. 

"No one has ever asked me that," I say truthfully. Normally, people just tell me to quit, and get a job, or become an adventurer, and put my talents to good use. 

"Well, they should. You are good at what you do. Still, you are good at adventuring, too," Vincent says, and I am left at a loss for words. 

I collect my thoughts for a while, and then give him an answer. 

"I cook out of passion, I slay monsters out of duty," I tell him. He turns to look into my eyes. 

"I believe you," he tells me. 

My eyes go wide at that. No one has ever said that to me. People's disbelief normally follows me everywhere I go. 

Why is he wasting his life?

He is a rarity; he is wasting his talent!

His parents were Heroes, and he wants to be a Chef? What nonsense!

Suddenly, I feel hands cupping my face. I blink, and see that Vincent is frowning. 

"Don't listen to all those that will put down your hopes and dreams," he tells me, staring deep into my eyes. His blue eyes look like a mirror of the sky in the light of the setting sun. For how long have we been working?

"I don't, normally," I retort, but he shakes his head. 

"Yes, you do. Or you won't be here, before a dungeon, with me," he tells me, and let's go of my face. Still, his hands caress my skin, in their parting. I luxuriate in the feeling.

 How long has it been, since someone gave me a bit of gentleness? I really need to get myself a lover. If only there were men who liked to go out with a Chef, instead of a top-notch adventurer. 

"I don't feel duty bound to be here," I say because I want him to know that I enjoyed our time together. Us, making the pies, is enough to wash away his lie from my mind. 

"I am happy you say that. One day, I will make you think it, too," Vincent tells me with a wink. 

"You are awfully certain that there will be a second time," I retort. 

"You need a helper in the kitchen, I need a Song weaver in my party. I think, between our two occupations, we can both rise to being Heroes," he leans into my personal space, and nuzzles our noses together. Just as he is about to pull away, I grab the back of his neck, and pull him in for a kiss. 

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