It's been a lot of years since Bobo's had to cook for himself, and most of them had been spent in Hell. That being what it is, that doesn't mean he doesn't have the skills. While he is a man of creature comforts, he began life with much less than they have even here, and he's certain he can do this again. At least he until he finds a way once more to a better life.
So he's in the kitchen, doing much as he did when he was just Robert Svane in a Purgatory as just a human.
It isn't much, the basics of stew being easy enough, and enough salt can cover a multitude of sins. Or so he thinks as he starts eating. Okay, damn he's not sure what he added with that heat, but it's definitely got a kick. But it's food, and filling, and he'll be damn if he let's himself be bested by stew for fuck's sake.
About half way through the bowl, his face is a rich shade of his red, sweat shines on his brow, and if there's a bit of a tremor in his hand as he goes to take another bite, well, he's never going to admit that.
That bite never makes it to his mouth though, dropping bowl, spoon and all into the sink with a howl that is much more animal than human as he spins about from the sink, huffing out a breath.
"Well Damn! Now that will definitely warm a man's gut."
SKUNK DRUNK
Bobo believes that no matter what a man believes himself to be, and even when he's not entirely a man in many ways, if you see a skunk? You turn and head the other way. Which he did, planning to hightail it out of there, but it is too late and he finds himself sprayed.
Pissed at first, more worried that he can't smell it and wondering if somehow it fried his nose, he's heading for the Inn. Finding himself desperate to get out of the clothes, into whatever he can scrounge up that are clear, and do something to clear his senses. Maybe go and dunk his head in the river. Can't hurt at this point given he can smell the soil and greenery around him, but not the strong scent of skunk that he is familiar with.
Though the more he thinks about clean clothes, the more he can think about a lot better things to do once he gets out of them. Especially if he can find someone to help him to get cleaned up. Obviously, he realizes, he's not been handling his time in this place right at all.
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looking for a large metal tub with lid best. will not be returning
Bobo Del Rey | Wynonna Earp
It's been a lot of years since Bobo's had to cook for himself, and most of them had been spent in Hell. That being what it is, that doesn't mean he doesn't have the skills. While he is a man of creature comforts, he began life with much less than they have even here, and he's certain he can do this again. At least he until he finds a way once more to a better life.
So he's in the kitchen, doing much as he did when he was just Robert Svane in a Purgatory as just a human.
It isn't much, the basics of stew being easy enough, and enough salt can cover a multitude of sins. Or so he thinks as he starts eating. Okay, damn he's not sure what he added with that heat, but it's definitely got a kick. But it's food, and filling, and he'll be damn if he let's himself be bested by stew for fuck's sake.
About half way through the bowl, his face is a rich shade of his red, sweat shines on his brow, and if there's a bit of a tremor in his hand as he goes to take another bite, well, he's never going to admit that.
That bite never makes it to his mouth though, dropping bowl, spoon and all into the sink with a howl that is much more animal than human as he spins about from the sink, huffing out a breath.
"Well Damn! Now that will definitely warm a man's gut."
Bobo believes that no matter what a man believes himself to be, and even when he's not entirely a man in many ways, if you see a skunk? You turn and head the other way. Which he did, planning to hightail it out of there, but it is too late and he finds himself sprayed.
Pissed at first, more worried that he can't smell it and wondering if somehow it fried his nose, he's heading for the Inn. Finding himself desperate to get out of the clothes, into whatever he can scrounge up that are clear, and do something to clear his senses. Maybe go and dunk his head in the river. Can't hurt at this point given he can smell the soil and greenery around him, but not the strong scent of skunk that he is familiar with.
Though the more he thinks about clean clothes, the more he can think about a lot better things to do once he gets out of them. Especially if he can find someone to help him to get cleaned up. Obviously, he realizes, he's not been handling his time in this place right at all.
looking for a large metal tub with lid best. will not be returning