https://archived.moe/bant/thread/18132741/#18162961https://archived.moe/bant/thread/18132741/#18163276As she works with Lillith in the kitchen, Andi Kestrel starts humming and dancing around a little bit in between tasks, brimming with a natural energy even in her post-workout fatigue. She picks up the grass Lillith had collected in a handful, washes it in the sink, and then brings it to a cutting board and finely chops it so that it's maybe suitable as a garnish, like parsley, if you're the sort of insane person who don't mind using grass as a garnish in your food.
>"Sha-la-la-la, sha-la-lalala.....>Knives are choppiii~iiing, we are cooking / >A culinary delight....."Andi's humming progresses to a soft singing of a warped version of Ramones' "Howling at the Moon/Sha-La-La" as she shimmies over to the eggs, collects them, and cracks them into a bowl. She adds in a pinch of salt and a pinch of onion powder and beats them up with a whisk, then stirs in the finely-chopped grass. She brings over the bowl of beaten eggs and grass, ready to be added to perhaps the saucepan, then gathers up the shells and tosses them in the trash.
>"I took the shells, and threw 'em away / >'Cause there's nothin' wrong, maybe it's a soufflé / >There's no shells, no shells anymore / >I wanna meal that's delish then I'll sleep on the floor....."Andi dances in front of Lillith to a weird rhythm that exists in her mind, grinning and seemingly trying to goad her into joining her.
