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[puffinparadise]

[Action; 306 Miller Street]

[Iceland wakes up in an unfamiliar bed in a somewhat familiar looking house. He's definitely not home. If he was, Mr. Puffin would've woken him up by then. He looks around the room curiously until his eyes fall upon a family picture on the wall. After studying it a bit closer, the realization hit him like a cinder block. A really heavy cinder block.]

Oh no...

[He was here before. Probably not the same exact house, but definitely the same town. Except...it had been at least 37 years since he had to even deal with this place. In a way, he was kind of happy to be back in this town. At home, he had to deal with a financial crisis. So in a way, he was glad for the break.

With a sigh, he got dressed and even tried making a makeshift bow from ripping apart a dreadful looking shirt. He walked over to the kitchen to go make breakfast.

So everyone at 306, there is one line-faced nation now cooking some bacon. All's good right? Except, upon closer inspection, the bacon looks like it's pretty burnt. Ice isn't even noticing as he appears to be caught in his thoughts. You probably might want to stop him before he sets the house on fire.]

[Phone]

Does anyone know if they sell black licorice here? Or does anyone have some they can spare?

[A pause. Was there something he forgot? Oh yeah.]

I'm back. Did I miss much?

Comments

[Action; 306 Miller]

[littleredwolf]

[Sansa doesn't know a thing about cooking - she's always had servants to do it for her - but, after the siege of King's Landing, she knows a thing or two about what burning meat smells like. And that bacon? Is burning.]

What are you doing?

[puffinparadise]

[He snapped out of his thoughts and turns around. Unfortunately, he still hasn't noticed the charcoal bacon...or the smoke from the charcoal bacon.]

Cooking.

[littleredwolf]

It's past cooking. Just look at it.

[puffinparadise]

I don't know what you're talking about--

[Looking at it. And now cue the flailing and running with the frying pan full of burnt bacon.]

[littleredwolf]

[Oh god oh god what even. Sansa does the first thing that comes to mind: runs to the cupboard, quickly fills a glass of water - she's seen the drone parents using the tap - and tosses its contents onto Iceland's smoldering breakfast.

And, uh. Iceland himself.

Sorry, dude.]

[puffinparadise]

[He's soaked and now has an expression of a puppy. In the rain. That got kicked.

He doesn't know what to be more upset about: the fact that he has to go all the way back to his room to find something relatively decent to wear or that he managed to cook almost as bad as England.

At least the house isn't on fire?]

...Thanks.

[littleredwolf]

[Oh dear. She winces a bit at the kicked puppy face and stammers out an apology.]

I'm sorry, truly I am. I was afraid you might start a fire.

[noble ladies don't throw water on people what was she even thinking.]

Might I help you clean up?

[puffinparadise]

[Fire. Cooking. Worse than England. He wants to sit in a corner and just die. Instead he throws the charcoal bacon in the trash. No sense in eating it now, right?]

No it's fine. It's not your fault. I should have been paying attention. [He might as well hold on to whatever is left of his pride.]

[littleredwolf]

[Unsure of what to do but recognizing that she's made him feel bad, Sansa offers Iceland a smile.]

I can't cook either, you know. If I were to try, I'd likely do a much worse job than that.

[puffinparadise]

[He calms down a bit.]

I'm sure you couldn't do much worse. I'm usually okay at cooking stuff that I eat often like hangikjöt or kleinur.

[littleredwolf]

Like what?

[puffinparadise]

Oh sorry, smoked lamb and fried pastries.