I Come Bearing Gifts (open!)

[Ferris Macklin]

Time: just after lunch

Ferris didn't actually care too much if the kids liked him or not; he wasn't there to be friends, he was there to see that they didn't eat their weight in salt and fat three times a day. Being without constant adult supervision during meals was a heady thing for a kid, even a teenager (or hell, who was he kidding, and adults), so he was ready to take some hate for the lack of chicken nuggets and fries and pizza. Sure, he still served those things, but only about once a week. Americans could say what they wanted about Europeans, but when first graders happily crunched raw veggies, slurped up carrot soup and gobbled broiled fish, Ferris was a happy man.

This did not mean he wasn't going to try to make a good impression on the staff. He didn't overly care if they liked him or not, but they were his colleagues, and things overall would go better for him if they all got off on the right foot. Besides, dancing hadn't done the job the night before his first day, and he'd had some jitters to work out.

So that morning he'd dropped off two giant plastic bowls filled with chocolate chip cookies. The chips were good, dark European chocolate and the cookie part was buttery and rich, the edges crispy and the middles chewy. There was a little sign stuck in one of the bowls, suspended on a chopstick, written in red felt-tip pen. It said: Hi. I'm Ferris Macklin. I'm the new head of kitchen staff. I made these last night to help say hello. They're chocolate chip, or in school parlance, chocolate chip, gluten, eggs, dairy, and wheat. But contain no nuts, soy, or shellfish.

By the time the lunch rush was over, most of both bowls were gone, and Ferris grinned as he combined bowls, set the full bowl inside the other, and tipped in the large baggie of extras. His own lunch, in an insulated bag sat next to him along with two cartons of skim. On the bag's orange strap his name was written in large capitals in black marker.

[Tracy Jade]

It was time to make a little bit more of an impact here at Hammel. So far, Tracy hadn’t gotten to know many people around here, he didn’t feel as though he had similar interests to the staff and actually felt like a large child next to some of them, especially the ones with their own families. It’d be nice to make a few friends who automatically had a common interest as you, even though it was work.

The staff lounge was pretty normal, pretty average. There was coffee and sometimes people brought in goodies. Tracy himself had brought in a classic just last week: chocolate chip cookies. They were one of his favorites and he thought it’d be nice to do. Besides, his step-dad begged him to make some that same day and he thought making another dozen would kill two birds with one stone so to speak. It had been his mom’s recipe. It was hard to take care of a grown man and his teenage sister who attended Hammel – just another mind to mold, to help.

Naturally, Tracy noticed the massive bowls and let out a low whistle. “Someone went to town,” he said to no one in particular, opening them up and investigating. His eyes trailed over the note and he smiled, taking a cookie from the bottom of the bowl and trying it out. “Oh yeah,” he said, giving an approving nod, “these beat the shit out of the ones I brought last week.” He grabbed a couple more and went to look out of the window for a few moments, and then went to get himself some coffee.

After doing so, he went to sit down where the cookies were, finding a man rearranging the stack and getting his lunch ready. “Ferris right?” Tracy asked, smiling. “Those cookies were perfect, I’m glad you’re the new head chef.” It was a good idea to make a good first impression and everyone likes cookies. This was a smart man sitting before him. A smart man with a duckie lunch kit. Tracy grinned down at it. “What’s for lunch doc?”

[Ferris Macklin]

The staff room was empty but for one other guy, and Ferris gave him a little smile as he refilled the cookie bowl, snitching a few for himself. One could not suffer from low blood sugar at a school filled with meta kids. The guy came over, and he didn't have the feel of a teacher. Maybe he was one of those trainers or recruiters or the dude who unstuck kids from the ceilings or whatever.

“Ferris right? Those cookies were perfect, I’m glad you’re the new head chef.”

"Yup, Ferris. Thanks! And sadly, the cookies will probably never touch student lips. They're full of all those pesky allergens, and half the kids would probably make vomity faces at the dark chocolate and I'd be forced to kill them. Humanely, of course. I'm not some barbarian." Ferris made a big scoffing face, as if he'd be so gauche as to kill children like the barnyard animals they occasionally could be mistaken for. He held out a hand. "'S your name?"

“What’s for lunch doc?”

His expression never changed but his heart skipped about half a beat. He hadn't even put the title in his job application, but quickly realized the guy was just making a joke. Thank god. Ferris held up his duckie lunch bag and rattled it. "Today we have ham and cheese on rye and pumpernickel, pickled cauliflower, three pieces of leftover breakfast sushi, a container of Frosted Cheerios and rice crackers, pomelo, and a thermos of water that may or may not have Kool Aid in it. It's not saying and I see no point in forcing the issue."

Sitting down, he opened his sandwich (made of real ham cut off a roast he'd made four days ago and lumps of aged cheddar and swiss) and the two containers of crunchies and pickles. He unscrewed his metal water bottle and the water indeed had a... pinkish cast to it. Perhaps it was blushing. Ferris was too much of a gentleman to mention it.

"Do you teach?" He kind of doubted it, but then, Ferris didn't really strike one as a chef, either. Not without the white chef's coat, anyway, and that was back in the kitchen. His t-shirt had Big Bird's serene face stamped upon it and his jeans had a tiny hole behind one knee.

[Tracy Jade]

A smile grew over Tracy’s face and he had to purse his lips together to keep from laughing. “Right. A barbarian would put the kids’ heads on steaks. Speaking of steak, will that ever be on the lunch menu?” If Ferris was never going to make cookie again, Tracy needed something to look forward to. He gave a small nod and extended his hand in return. “Tracy Jade,” he said, “one of the recruiters, so I’m not in here much, but I’m glad I was – must be my lucky day.”

During the hesitation, Tracy tilted his head to the side. He hadn’t meant any harm. This man could talk a lot, and once the ball was rolling, Tracy didn’t see the point in stopping it. Ferris was a little quirky – Tracy liked it. “I’m guessing you don’t have any allergens then?” He asked after all that was said. It was quite a description for a lunch, but his eyes were still focused on the lunch bag. He gestured towards it lazily. “I think I’ve seen those in the mall. Did you get it at that Tots N’ Things store?”

He hadn’t brought anything for lunch, he usually just made something at home during his break, or went out. It was much easier, and he wasn’t worried or concerned about the food he ate. Maybe it was time he grew up a little bit and started taking care of himself, but he wasn’t interested in that at the moment. “What brings you to Hammel?” He asked instead, his hands cupped together as he waited in interested silence. Hopefully he wasn’t intruding too much.

[Ferris Macklin]

“Right. A barbarian would put the kids’ heads on steaks. Speaking of steak, will that ever be on the lunch menu?”

Ferris managed to smother his outright laugh into chuckles that didn't sound too hysterical. "That's cute. I have a hard enough time fitting hamburger onto the menu three times a month. And steak would take forever to finish."

The Hammel food budget was generous, more generous than at a regular public school, but it was never going to get the kids a steak dinner. Pot roast, maybe.

"Nice t' meet you, Tracy." Ferris shrugged at the bowls. "I won't tell if you take a few to go. There's plenty."

“I think I’ve seen those in the mall. Did you get it at that Tots N’ Things store?”

He snorted another laugh and took a bite of his sandwich. "I actually got it in France. I found out if people think something belongs to a kid they're less likely to steal it. And then, if they find out it belongs to a full grown man, even less likely."

Pushing his plastic container of Frosted Cheerios and rice crackers towards Jade he said, "Have some if you want. It's a good combo."

Sweet, salty, a little spicy in places, crunchy. Perfect with just about everything.

“What brings you to Hammel?”

"I was working at Kocher. The Swiss Hammel. Then this job opened up and I'm from here, so... why not? Besides." He leaned in. "There? I was a minion. Here? I have minions. Muahaha." He nodded. "Very satisfying."

Eating more sandwich, Ferris was still careful not to talk with his mouth full. "So what's being a recruiter like? I can't imagine making first contact with some of these kids without like, a tinfoil hat, a fire extinguisher, and full body armor."

[Tracy Jade]

Tracy sighed disappointedly, “Well there goes that dream.” He wasn’t exactly the best cook, but he did like barbequing every once in a while. “But yeah, that makes sense. There’s way too many kids here for that.” But Tracy was still smiling. He had the feeling that Ferris thought the comment was funny, maybe not hysterical, but at least the other man wasn’t glaring at him.

“Oh well that’s gracious of you,” Tracy said, gladly helping himself to the bowls once more. Cookies weren’t as good the next day, but there was nothing a little microwaving couldn’t fix. “I have a container around here somewhere...” He mused to himself, wondering where the janitor might’ve put it. Oh well, he’d get some of these bad boys home one way or another.

Tracy made a small ‘o’ with his mouth. “That’s actually a really smart idea! You must’ve had your lunch stolen from you all the time,” he shrugged, “or it’s just an excuse to have that kind of lunch kit. I myself just label my food when it’s here.”

“Thank you,” Tracy acknowledged, munching on still more treats. He’d have to hang around Ferris more often, it was starting to pay off. “What made you think of this? The combination I mean.” Frosted Cheerios and salt didn’t sound too appealing to start, but Tracy had to admit they were a perfect snack.

Tracy snorted laughter, dropping Cheerios into his mouth one at a time, making a game out of it. “You’re lucky. I’m on my own most of the time.” He sighed, glancing down at the table before looking back to Ferris. “How is it out there? Any significant differences in schooling?”

Tracy outright laughed at the last comment Ferris made. “Tinfoil hats? Isn’t that to protect from aliens?” He wiped at his eyes. “Nah man, they’re just kids like everyone else, and most of them are relieved that other metas exist and that they’re not going crazy.” He shrugged. Maybe his large size and tattooed body freaked some people out. “I haven’t had any problems yet.”

[Ferris Macklin]

“But yeah, that makes sense. There’s way too many kids here for that.”

"The closest we might get to that is meatloaf," he admitted. "But like, good meatloaf."

Ferris personally loved a good meatloaf with onions and pine nuts and tomato sauce, but knew a lot of people thought of it with distaste. And of course for Hammel he'd have to leave off the pine nuts and use gluten-free breadcrumbs... he'd have to experiment a little at home.

"Oh. Hold on." He dug into his duckie lunchbag when Tracy couldn't find something to put the cookies in and came up with one of his spare ziplocs. "Here."

Besides lunch, the duckie carried emergency ziplocs, folded paper-towels, a first aid kit, and a travel pack of wet-naps. Unsurprisingly, the duckie had accompanied Ferris to various fairs and street markets in Europe where each of those things had come in handy more than once.

“That’s actually a really smart idea! You must’ve had your lunch stolen from you all the time. Or it’s just an excuse to have that kind of lunch kit. I myself just label my food when it’s here.”

"When people find out you can cook, sometimes things... go missing," he sighed. "And duckie was both on sale and waterproof. And-" Ferris eyed the bag "-really sturdy. He's been to four countries and never even ripped."

Duckie had also served as an impromptu day reflector while Ferris biked, though now in the states he kept the bag inside his backpack when he traveled between home and school.

Tracy partook of the crunchy mix and Ferris ate more of his sandwich, popping breakfast sushi in between. "You know the whole salty-sweet thing? Like sea salt caramel and all that. I've always been a fan of that, and I don't like to waste time. I did the whole biking Europe thing and combining stuff was a way to cut down on... everything." He grinned. "I like rice crackers but some of them are kind of hot when I just want salty. I thought putting in the Cheerios would take the edge off. I've used Frosted Flakes too, but I like the Cheerios better."

“How is it out there? Any significant differences in schooling?”

"Not really, kids are kids," he said, laughing a little. "The only real difference is that kids in Switzerland typically go home for lunch, and it's pretty leisurely. At least an hour, sometimes two. So Kocher bucks the trend a little since the kids stay all day. And the kids don't take English, but like, Swiss French or Swiss German or whatever they speak. Oh, and they don't stick their noses up at the food as much."

“Tinfoil hats? Isn’t that to protect from aliens?”

Ferris spread his hands as if to say 'EVERYTHING HELPS'. He tossed the last corner of his sandwich into his mouth and took out his pommelo. It was already peeled and sectioned, and the other half was back at home because the thing had been the size of a softball. The fruit was a yellow-orange, like it was blushing, and he offered a potato-finger-sized section to Tracy.

"So where'd you get your ink?" he asked, curious. The Ferris Wheel on his chest needed a little touch up... maybe his arm ones did too. He'd see. Using a pinky finger, he pulled up the short t-shirt sleeve closest to Mr. Jade to show the arrow tattooed on his deltoid. "I can't say Vermont is exactly a hotbed of counter culture, but there must be some place here that isn't run by ski bums or maple syrup boilers killing time on the offseason?"

[Tracy Jade]

Taking the baggie, Tracy gave an appreciative nod. “This will do. My dad and sister are gonna love these.” He tucked six of the cookies away, since none of them were for him now, and Tracy was a sharer.

Tracy’s eyebrow rose. “Never ripped you say? Well, I might have to invest in one, but now that your secret’s out of, the bag,” yes, he used quotations around the last two words spoken, no, he’s not ashamed, “what’s stopping me from stealing your food now?”

Nodding his head as Ferris explained the food combination, Tracy gave a flourish of his hand. “See, that’s just brilliant, and why you’re head chef and I’m not. I’d never think of doing those things. I’d probably mix two things together and it would taste like garbage.” He smirked at himself and put out a cautionary hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t share any of my mixtures with you.” That would just be insulting.

Tracy took the fruit gingerly, popping it into his mouth lazily, grinning at the gesture. Kids were kids, but they definitely weren’t aliens the last time he checked. But he didn’t breech the subject further.

Looking down at himself, he wondered where to start answering that question. “The first one was done in the capitol city, right after I got my PHD. The rest were soon to follow on my various trips around the states – it’s hard to stop once you start.” He put a thoughtful hand to his chin. “I think I have an addiction,” he said lightly, looking over at Ferris.

Laughing, Tracy sat back in the plastic chair he was sitting in and crossed his arms. “There’s actually a really good place here in town, a friend of mine owns and operates it.” A dreamy look took over Tracy’s features. “Dustin... He’s good, he’ll touch you up just right.”

[Ferris Macklin]

“Never ripped you say? Well, I might have to invest in one, but now that your secret’s out of, the bag what’s stopping me from stealing your food now?”

"One, you just admitted it, so now I can circulate your name and description, and two and more importantly, I mentioned that whole thing about how I have minions? I have minions." Ferris showed teeth when he smiled this time. "They always get first dibs on the goodies I bring in. It makes them very loyal."

For his staff sometimes Ferris brought in the big guns. Like strawberry cream cheese pastries or chocolate croissants or pretzel rolls. Unlike a lot of chefs he knew, he didn't have that overwhelming need to feed people. But Ferris did like to cook and often made more than he could eat and so far there hadn't been any complaining. Cooking at an institutional level was not typically very rewarding - you did the best you could with what you had, and there were always kids who didn't like it and were not too shy about saying so. And the staff were all good hard workers who followed directions and put up with all those long faces. Ferris felt they deserved a few treats.

He laughed. "You don't have to be a head chef to put together a decent mix. Just... desperate for space and willing to try new things. Besides, not all the combos I like are crowd pleasers. Like peanut butter and pickles. Don't judge me."

“The first one was done in the capitol city, right after I got my PHD. The rest were soon to follow on my various trips around the states – it’s hard to stop once you start. I think I have an addiction.”

Ferris tried not to look surprised and totally failed. "You have a PhD? In what?" And then, "I have one on the other shoulder and another here." He pointed to the area over his heart. "So what'll you do when you run out of space? Go for like, the crazy places? Like the inside of your lip. I hear that hurts like hell."

“Dustin... He’s good, he’ll touch you up just right.”

Laughing again, he said, "Down boy." Finishing another pommelo section, he added thoughtfully, "I've been thinking about getting a little outline of the Swedish Chef on my ankle or something. I like getting them where I can see them."

Narrowing his eyes, he looked sideways at Tracy and lowered his voice. "The Swedish Chef is actually our patron saint. I hear Thomas Keller has a shrine to him in his basement. Shhhhh."

[Tracy Jade]

Tracy cracked a grin, expecting nothing less than a witty comeback from Ferris even this early on in their relationship. “Does that make me a minion then?” If it involved free food from a good cook, Tracy was all in. Cooking was perhaps like teaching, not everyone always liked what you had to serve, but sometimes you just had to take it while it was hot. It made a lot of sense in Tracy’s mind.

“See, now that really depends on what kind of peanut butter you’re using,” he said, although it was something he would never try on a whim. “I’d think the crunchy kind would work better for dill pickles and the salted kind would be better on sandwich pickles.” Could Ferris tell yet? That Tracy was just making things up?

Tracy wore a big but humble smile. “Yeah that’s right, surprised?” He didn’t really look like the type, but didn’t people say looks could be deceiving? He himself never took anything for granted, he only took interest. “Psychology,” he said, counting the crumbs on the table, “personality psychology.”

“Inside of my lip, hmm, now there’s an idea...” Tracy said contemplatively. Nope, that wasn’t something he was going to do. “Or maybe my teeth, nothing like a permanent decay-like stain slash tattoo.” Yes, that was probably the most attractive thing on everyone’s lists.

Laughing at himself, Tracy shrugged. “He’s more into tribal stuff, intricate things, but a little chef probably wouldn’t run you up too much.” A crooked half smile took up half of Tracy’s face. “Really? Do you have a similar shrine in your house?”

[Ferris Macklin]

“Does that make me a minion then?”

Ferris favored Jade with a sweet smile and tone he reserved for quiet Midwestern grannies. "Nnnnnnno." He gently patted the man's hand. "That makes you a mooch."

He laughed a little, shaking his head. "You know, if you're that hard up, you can come over some night I'm experimenting. So far I know that salmon lasagna tastes pretty good but looks kind of terrible, that pre-roasted marshmallows in cookies mostly works, and that you really can put kimchi in damn near everything." He paused, remembered, and added, "Except with peanut butter." Remembered further. "...Depending."

“See, now that really depends on what kind of peanut butter you’re using. I’d think the crunchy kind would work better for dill pickles and the salted kind would be better on sandwich pickles.”

Spoken like a man who'd probably only ever had peanut butter with over-sugared strawberry jam on white bread. Ferris, on the other hand, had done time in the peanut butter trenches. "Creamy Skippy is my preferred. Sweet enough to work with salty, salty enough to work in sweets. I probably still have an emergency jar of it in my backpack."

“Yeah that’s right, surprised?”

"Kind of." Since he had one himself and all.

"Must come in handy with recruiting." Finishing his pommelo, he took a long drink from his bottle.

“Inside of my lip, hmm, now there’s an idea... Or maybe my teeth, nothing like a permanent decay-like stain slash tattoo.”

"Or you could do your eyeball. I hear that's a thing now. Pretty soon they'll have bone tats that only show up on x-rays. You know, while the doc's in there screwing your leg back together he might offer to inlay some stainless steel that says 'Mom'."

“He’s more into tribal stuff, intricate things, but a little chef probably wouldn’t run you up too much.”

"I thought about getting it at the hip, but I thought if my shirt rode up it wouldn't send the right message. I do try to keep it classy," he said, as he picked up his duckie lunchbag and placed his containers inside.

“Really? Do you have a similar shrine in your house?”

Ferris's eyes looked about the room before they settled on the tall recruiter. His voice lowered again. "The Brotherhood of Bork Bork Bork requires a certain level of mystique."

He held a finger to his lips. "I'm sure you understand."

He whispered, "Keller lost significant status when the French Laundry started using vegetables that couldn't outsmart him."

Ferris looked properly scandalized and saddened. Then his face smoothed out to blandness. "And of course, you didn't hear that from me. I'll deny it even if they threaten to take away the Sacred Flamethrower of Coorn Pooping."

[Tracy Jade]

A mooch? Tracy gave a nod. “Alright, I can deal with that.” So long as he kept getting free food, it didn’t matter what title Ferris gave him.

“I’m down for seeing what kinds of crazy concoctions can come from the kitchen,” he said, after saying a few words with the hard k sound, he tried to say as many as he could. “You live by yourself? I mean, roommates love free cooking, but they would probably end up being guinea pigs instead.

Processed strawberry jam is delicious, thank you very much! “An emergency peanut butter jar?” Tracy asked, an eyebrow raised. “Now that is interesting.” Who did that? A first-aid kit would probably be of much more use. “Wouldn’t that be against your code of not poisoning kids with allergies?”

Tracy nodded. “Sometimes it does, but you don’t need to be a pysch to be a recruiter,” he said, staring at Ferris with intensity, lost in thought. That degree had probably been a waste of time what with the direction his life was heading now.

“I should sign up to give those a trial run,” Tracy said, willing to try almost anything once, especially if it was a new and innovative way to tattoo people that wasn’t extremely stupid.

Watching Ferris put his lunch kit away, Tracy nodded. “Right. Classy.” Classiest duck he’d ever seen in his life. “That’s the message you’re trying to send?”

Shooing away the playful smile on his lips, Tracy tilted his head to the side. “Could the vegetables talk?” He asked in a low, conspiratorial whisper. Miming a seal over his lips, Tracy folded his hands in front of him. “I surely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Glancing at the clock, Tracy knew his lunch break was almost over. “Well, looks like I should get to my next assignment soon.” They call me Jade. Tracy, Jade. “Need a lift anywhere? Or are you staying put?”

[Ferris Macklin]

Ferris snorted a laugh. Jade must be hard up if he agreed to moochhood so readily.

“I’m down for seeing what kinds of crazy concoctions can come from the kitchen.”

Ferris's face was straight. "Cool."

“You live by yourself? I mean, roommates love free cooking, but they would probably end up being guinea pigs instead."

"Solo," he confirmed. "I came over directly from Kocher, so it was easier to find a rental than go through the whole screening roommate thing. And I don't just cook the mad scientist stuff. When I make chicken pot pie? It's handmade all the way."

Not one to toot his own horn, Ferris figured if he and Tracy became the kind of friends he thought they might, the recruiter would find out soon enough what kind of cook he was.

“An emergency peanut butter jar? Now that is interesting. Wouldn’t that be against your code of not poisoning kids with allergies?”

There was a first aid kit in the duckie. Ferris was never a Boy Scout but he did bike Europe and that taught him preparation better than he guessed some kid's dad in a neckerchief could.

"One, sometimes you need fast energy and a scoop of peanut butter's a quick way to do it. And two, I'm not poisoning the kids. It's my peanut butter. My delicious poison-y allergen." He didn't add MINE MINE MINE but it was evident on his face. Then Ferris laughed. "I hope it's not there. I do try to keep nuts out of the kitchen as completely as I can."

“Sometimes it does, but you don’t need to be a pysch to be a recruiter.”

And you don't have to be a history professor to shove pans of potatoes into ovens, he thought, smiling a little. "At least you have a doctorate that helps. It could be a doctorate of... oh... early American literature. I'm guessing you've made use of your studies without consciously knowing it while on the job. Don't sell yourself short. A psych doctorate is a useful thing."

“Right. Classy. That’s the message you’re trying to send?”

Ferris exhaled. "Mr. Jade," he said primly, "We are all class."

He patted his duckie on the flat head.

“Could the vegetables talk?”

Through closed lips he singsonged in a whispery voice, "Classified" while pointedly looking elsewhere.

“I surely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

An even softer whisper. "It's for your own safety."

“Well, looks like I should get to my next assignment soon. Need a lift anywhere? Or are you staying put?”

"Thanks for the offer, but I stay till dinner service starts. It's kind of a long day, but solo, right?" And he didn't mention that he arrived most days at 4 or 5 a.m. Most days he caught a nap in the back room about now, before dinner prep, but he had to help put away the new shipments. Standing, he stretched, arms over head.

"Drop by the kitchens sometime when dinner starts and if you're lucky I'll let you come over and eat my food."

Clapping Tracy on the shoulder, he walked out with him and split off to the kitchens with a wave.

[Tracy Jade]

“Nice,” Tracy said, praising the still to be tasted cooking. “I can swing toast and cereal, although one time I managed to set the toaster on fire...” he added as an afterthought. Ever since then he has carefully watched his bread as it cooks.

Tracy just laughed. “Alrigh’ alrigh’, keep your allergen, I was just teasing you. But so help me, if one of the kids comes up to me because you tried to poison them because they didn’t like your food, I’ll be very disappointed in you.” The smirk said it all. People like Ferris didn’t come down Tracy’s path very often and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip.

And then he was seriously and insightful the next minute. “I uh,” Tracy cleared his throat. “I guess so. Thanks for pointing that out.” He preferred to get to know others instead of the other way around, but it was hard to have a one-sided conversation with oneself.

“Yeah alright,” Tracy said, giving the other man a warm smile. “I’m sure you get tired of being solo once in a while.” It was an offer he couldn’t refuse and possibly one Ferris would soon regret. He wouldn’t get rid of the mimic at this rate.