Kilgrave (mentisimperium) wrote in cedarridge_rp, @ 2016-04-04 00:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | thread: in progress |
Who: Keara and Kilgrave
Where: Kilgrave's fancy pants mansion that he mind-controlled someone out of
When: 4/4, mid afternoon
What: Lunch date!
Rating: Maybe high? It's like a coin flip with him. Definitely high for the Kilgrave factor.
Kilgrave's time in Cedar Ridge had its highs and lows. He'd been received well by the people who ran the show, allowed to chose his own lodgings with very little restriction and treated as an honored guest. He didn't mind so much that the Council was blowing smoke up his ass so that he'd remain in pleasant enough spirits to help them with their little rebel problem because it meant that they gave him what he wanted. So long as that was the service to which he was treated, they wouldn't have many bodies to clean up whenever he decided to move on from there.
But it was just all so boring. He'd picked an attractive and feisty slave. She'd done as he said with little resistance thus far, though that was hardly revolutionary behavior when it came to human beings who spent time in his presence. Kilgrave was long accustomed to people doing whatever he said whenever he said it. Keara had yet to disappoint him in that regard, which was why she remained relatively unscathed.
He'd had his moments when his temper had flared, usually directed at the woefully incompetent staff he'd hired who couldn't manage to do anything correctly in spite of being ordered to do so explicitly. Frustrations aside, he had organized to staff to cook a lovely, Italian lunch for the two of them. He'd given specific instructions to the chefs, instructions they'd already managed to fuck up.
After having already sent one of the maids to fetch Keara for the meal, Kilgrave presently stood alongside the so-called chef, third one he'd been through, shouting at him. "Are you bloody daft? If you can't tell the difference between serrano ham and prosciutto, I don't know what business you have calling yourself a pioneer in Italian cuisine. See the water there? The unsalted water you have boiling for the pasta? Stick your hand in it. Go on!" The cook stared at him, compelled to thrust their bare hand into the boiling water.