Who: Mick Rory and Open Where: Thunderbolts Mansion When: December 9, 2012 What: Cooking is a decent substitute for pyromania. Except not. Rating: R
The new place was pretty nice. It couldn't compare to their last one which had all the beer they could drink, but it wasn't half bad. Over the years, they'd holed up in a lot worse places. It also wasn't prison, but only just. It hadn't taken the group long to make themselves at home. Within a few days there was all sorts of clutter about. Newspapers and magazines, cigarette butts, dirty socks. There were trails leading from room to room and the kitchen was no exception.
The table and counters were covered with styrofoam containers (a few had even made it into the trash) and dirty dishes. Mick dug around in a cabinet until he found a clean pot. He scowled at the stovetop. An electric range. That was a damned tragedy. Still, he set a burner on high then filled the pot with water. He'd never be mistaken for a chef but any idiot could boil water and make pasta. He paused, considering the usual lot he hung out with. Well, most idiots could boil water.
He put the pot on the range, then wandered out to the living room and turned on the television, manually. (Who knew where the remote was.) He took a seat and began flipping through the channels. He was curious as to when SHIELD was gonna call in their marker but this type of waiting wasn't half bad.