[When the situation calls for it, Rosinante can sure mask his reactions well enough, but around here? He rarely bothers. He pauses at the name instead, and looks Ace over for a second or two before accepting the handshake - after finding a moment to dry his hands on a towel first.]
You're Ace.
[Well, he can see the resemblance between the guy and his father well enough, but only because he knows. He must have gotten plenty of his features from his mother, whoever she might be.
Anyway, he doesn't contemplate long, doesn't really stare more than that first moment, because he does have manners.]
don't ever say that to his face or they will be instant enemies instead of tentative friends. the last thing he wants to hear is that he looks like his father. nevermind that he knows this already, but he doesn't like to think about it. he'd much rather imagine he's more like whitebeard than his biological father. (yet, he knows he's not like whitebeard, either. maybe if he was, things might've been a little different.)
anyway.
he resumes chopping the onion after introductions, giving a loose shrug as some sort of response at first before offering something a little more substancial, )
Mostly self-taught. I spent a lot of time by myself before getting a crew of my own. It's nothing top shelf, but enough for sustinence.
That's all I've ever done, too. Self-sufficient bachelor cooking. Boil rice, make a fire, grill stuff over the flames. Soup, that's always easy. But I can't say I ever tried to do anything fancier than that.
[And fried rice isn't fancy either, but, baby steps. Anyway, time to dig around in the fridge for more cold rice. Must be some here somewhere.]
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You're Ace.
[Well, he can see the resemblance between the guy and his father well enough, but only because he knows. He must have gotten plenty of his features from his mother, whoever she might be.
Anyway, he doesn't contemplate long, doesn't really stare more than that first moment, because he does have manners.]
Nice to meet you too. Where'd you learn to cook?
no subject
don't ever say that to his face or they will be instant enemies instead of tentative friends. the last thing he wants to hear is that he looks like his father. nevermind that he knows this already, but he doesn't like to think about it. he'd much rather imagine he's more like whitebeard than his biological father. (yet, he knows he's not like whitebeard, either. maybe if he was, things might've been a little different.)
anyway.
he resumes chopping the onion after introductions, giving a loose shrug as some sort of response at first before offering something a little more substancial, )
Mostly self-taught. I spent a lot of time by myself before getting a crew of my own. It's nothing top shelf, but enough for sustinence.
no subject
[And fried rice isn't fancy either, but, baby steps. Anyway, time to dig around in the fridge for more cold rice. Must be some here somewhere.]
You had your own crew for a while? How'd that go?