THE KITCHENS, AROUND MEALTIME
But Lars had been sharing a room with him for almost a decade now. He knew him pretty well, and he knew that he would not stop himself from saying something rude even if their patron was standing right behind him, and he would not stop cracking inappropriate jokes about the other servants around them even if they overheard. It made him nervous, and he was not unwilling to admit that fact.
"Bennett," he urged quietly, after a particularly crude comment concerning something with the matron's hair (he could not understand it, really, he did not get these jokes), "he thinks you should focus on the vegetables. You're going to cut your fingers."
The taller servant stood beside him, looking over the pile of already-chopped carrots and celery. "I'm doing pretty well," insisted Bennett, and he pushed the vegetables to the side of the board before reaching for the next things to chop. More carrots, more celery - the two of them had been chopping away for a while now, readying things to be thrown into pots after dinner and made into stock for future use. The kitchens were loud and alive with movement and noise, too many bodies working in too little space for such a hot Roalis evening, and it was all that they could do to stay out of the way but keep to their task. Bennett was a little worse about not moving when he needed to, not listening for anyone's comments and concerns... but Lars was always alert, always aware, despite the dreamy, unfocused nature of his gaze. Always listening, in case someone needed him for something.
"Fine," the taller was chopping the ends off of more carrots, now, his eyes finally fixed downward to ensure he did not chop his fingers instead, "you tell a joke instead then. See if you can make me laugh."
Lars blinked, looking to the other boy's face for a moment before he looked back to his own work. He had moved onto dicing the onions, himself, and he was expecting Bennett to complain about that fact soon enough, when his eyes began to water and sting. "Why are we... trying to laugh?" questioned the blond, turning the onion to chop one end off of it, and then the other.
"Just try. Come on, whatever comes to mind."
"Uh..." oh, gods, he didn't know what to say. He had never tried to tell a joke before, he wasn't even sure where to start. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, and Lars focused on the sounds around them. The rushed, insistent voices, the quiet conversations amidst the fast-paced work. Blue uniforms with their sleeves pushed up to the elbows, aprons and pinafores smudged and dirtied save for the lucky few that did not get their hands as dirty.
"What - ah..." the servant paused his chopping, taking a breath as he looked around the kitchens. There was another older boy working at the station in front of them, his back to them, and his suspenders were twisted at the bottom, where they latched onto his trousers. Lars nudged Bennett's side, gently, and pointed to the boy with his knife, "that... um... his uniform is messed up. That means... something."
Bennett was quiet, and Lars looked back to him with a small frown.
"Was that your joke?"
"...Yes," he turned away, going to resume chopping the onion, "he doesn't know what to say. He just wants to get this done, please."
His roommate's only response was a quiet scoff, but he finally stopped trying to get the younger passive to laugh. For that, he was grateful. After he had finished with the onions, Lars left the station, moving away from Bennett to go and rinse off his hands. He did so quickly, but while on his way back, he was stopped by another familiar voice.
"Lars," called an older girl named... Lora? He could not remember, but she motioned him over to the stove, where she stood stirring something in a big pot. Lars approached and a wooden spoon was put into his hand, as Lora stepped away from the stove and left his side without further instruction. He looked to the pot, watching the unknown soup swirl inside of it, and with a soft sigh, he set the wooden spoon back into it and stirred. Beside it, another pot sat upon the stove, filled with water that was just beginning to bubble and steam.
The Hessean turned his head, his stirring paused temporarily while he looked back out to where Bennett continued chopping vegetables. Well, at least he did not have to listen to his bad impressions of the professors from over here.