singillatim | (closed)

"For the cold!"

He motions to the next hole and the plank that he's fairly certain will get the job done. "For the cold! And because it's an indulgence, and suffering for the sake of suffering is something I do. Christ, is this what I sound like? I want to kick my own arse."

It's impossible not to laugh. It's a fuller laugh than Raju's used to hearing out of his own mouth, at least in recent months, and he feels it in his chest as he reaches for the next plank. "You don't sound like you like suffering now. You sound like you're wanting to drag me down into your bad habits with you."

"Having a soak isn't a bad habit. Trying to relax isn't a bad habit," he scoffs, but he can't keep the amusement away from his own expression. Raju's laugh is large and fills up the dusty room, and it's horribly endearing. He should do it more often. "Hold up the plank and the nail, we're nearly done."

Raju holds up the plank and nail where he's being asked to, but his warm, happy gaze doesn't move off Francis' face. "But what do you do after you leave the springs? It's already freezing, soften yourself up before the walk back and you'll get home a popsicle. It sounds like a terrible habit to me."

Edited 2024-03-15 02:54 (UTC)

He knocks the next few nails in rapid succession. “You stay in long enough that stepping out feels refreshing too. Honestly, I think you’re giving this too much thought.”

Crozier grins and hands him the hammer. “Finish up this patch while I fix us something to eat.” Nothing fancy, of course, some sort of stew with unevenly-chopped root vegetables. The height of Arctic gourmet!

"Mhm," Raju says, taking the hammer, but he'll be watching Francis curiously more than watching himself using it. He glances at the hammer every now and then, but his hands each know exactly where they are, and there are more interesting things to be looking at.

"Where did those come from?" he asks, once the vegetables come out. "You found them?"

“Dug them out with my knife a few days ago,” he tells him, said knife coming out now to chop. “Queen Anne’s lace and arrowroot. The arrowroot is mainly filling, but the Queen Anne’s lace is similar to a carrot. Good in a stew.”

Raju sets the hammer down absently without thinking about where as he makes his way closer. Asking how Francis spotted them might give away the answer to that earlier question, about whether he was eating well. Well enough is the answer, of course, but that enough involves more rationing of canned goods that are going to run out eventually than anything fresh, for all the time Raju spends wandering outside, and there's no point in inviting something like the look on Akhtar's face, when he'd seen the state of Raju's cupboards at home. In Delhi. Closer to home.

"You go out looking for those things often?" Raju asks instead, watching from over Francis' shoulder. "How far do you have to go?"

“Every time I’m out checking the traps or walking into town,” comes Crozier’s answer. His foraging is more casual than it is a concentrated effort — unless, of course, he’s providing supplies for everyone else.

“The arrowroot was in the brush behind the cabin, not far at all.” He makes a few more choppy cuts and then just outright offers the handle of the knife to Raju. “Here. Do this part for me.”

Raju takes it with a pleased noise, happy to show off skills that, before he’d started living in this place and living out of cans, had been relatively new. They still feel new. Tip of the knife resting on the counter, handle moving, Raju starts making precise, neat work of the rest of the cutting.

“So we might find some the next time we’re out,” Raju says, planning already on trailing along more often as he spends more of the days here. That would be convenient; maybe he’d learn how to spot them without letting on that he needs to know. Then, first round of cutting done, he looks over at Francis, looking proud of himself. “What size do you like them? Smaller?”

Those are very nice knife cuts indeed, and he smiles in approval. "That's fine. They'll cook evenly now." Half-cooked arrowroot is less delicious than fully-cooked.

Crozier pulls a pot off a crooked shelf and rinses it in some of the meltwater. "You can help me on my trips out," he adds lightly. "If you can spare a little time for me that is, I know you keep busy. I like to leave things for the others at the Community Center, but my capacity is limited."

“Mhm,” Raju agrees in a pleased sort of way, watching. “I might owe you the help, I’m sure I’ve eaten your work enough times when I still slept there. So I suppose I can make time.”

He gives Francis a smile that’s half-trying to spread over his face and half-trying to hold itself back. See the mighty sacrifice Raju will be making, how terrible it will be?

“How much do you find? How often? I thought there was hardly anything growing in this place, nothing but rosehip and the damned trees.”

“You suppose,” he repeats, definitely not grinning in a teasing sort of way. He holds out his hand for the chopped up vegetables so he can get them to a boil.

“I find a fair amount growing on my walks. I forage a little here and there, mark down what I find and where in my notebook. You just need to know where to look.”

Raju grunts in surprise, hurrying to rinse his hands in the meltwater Francis had used on the pot before he touches the root directly.

"Mm, thorough." He finishes rinsing, then scoots all the chopped pieces off the edge of the counter and onto his other hand and pours the little pile onto Francis' palm carefully. "How do you remember where if you find it in the woods? Everything there all looks the same, doesn't it? A rock, a bush. What kind of landmarks do you use?"

Crozier tosses the roots into the pot and then follows it up with some fresher meat from one of his traps. "Cardinal directions, paces from well-worn roads and paths, buildings. I'd like to chart coordinates but I don't have the tools for it.

"How's your memory? Any good?"

"Mm?" Raju looks up from the pot where his gaze was lingering on the meat, then smiles. "Good. I've only gotten lost in the forest here... oh, a handful of times. But it's been a while since I've spent so much time outside a city. And I'm getting better at it. Between the direction of the sun and my own memory I can make my way around. I'll make a good assistant for you, don't worry."

"I will absolutely leave you behind if you can't keep up," he says with his usual sort of dry wit. A man with one hand and mending ribs isn't likely to be the one out in front of things.

"What else do you want to learn? Ice fishing? I've been meaning to head back out onto the fish when I start feeling better."

"Mm. What is that like?" Raju thinks back. He hasn't done any fishing himself; his work was always focused on other things. He knows... something about it though, surely. "You'd need a way to cut through the ice first. And then do it again if you've picked out the wrong spot. You catch enough to make it worth all that?"

“There are hand-cranks in some of the ice fishing huts, so drilling the holes isn’t a problem.” And compared to drilling into pack ice it cuts like a dream.

“It’s worth it. The fish have less to eat in the winter; makes them more eager to bite.”

Raju nods, smile spreading over his face. "I'd like that."

He settles, now that it's looking like he won't be asked to do much more with the cooking, leaning his back against the counter. "My aunts and uncles used to go fishing for us all the time, but I never thought about joining them," he says, pulling absently at his fingers, then focusing on Francis again. "It's quite a walk that way though, if I know the place you're thinking. It might be a while before you're able to have fish again."

“That may be the case,” he acknowledges. “But it’s always worth the hike out that way to search for small game.”

Once the fire’s roaring and the stew is bubbling along, Crozier sits at a long, wooden bench that besides the equally-rough table is the only piece of furniture in the room. “Were you ever expected to join them, or were you just never asked?”

"I had other work to do," he shrugs, sitting beside Francis and leaning his elbow against the table, and his jaw against his hand. "But I tried to help with some of the chores, when I was very young. I remember the goats. And... maybe some other things, I'm not sure. What about you? Did you always know how to fish and forage and cook all of it afterward? Or is all this new?"

"Christ, no," he snorts softly. "I could take magnetic measurements or sail, but these are all new skills. As lowly as an Irishman in my position was, I was still an officer. Pampered, a steward of my own to shave my face, bring me my meals, mend my clothes. I knew the basics of survival but nothing as practical as all this."

It isn't that Raju wasn't interested before, but when Francis mentions his service Raju seems a lot more alert about it. He straightens a little, eyes focused suddenly—

But it's turned into a good day, better than he's expected for what feels like a long time, and what he decides to do is tease.

"You don't even shave yourselves?" The alert interest on Raju's face is creasing up into amusement. "There's not someone to dress command up in their uniforms for them too, is there?"

"Oh, I probably shouldn't tell you," Crozier laughs, very happily willing to poke fun at himself and his fellow officers. "I was less dependent than most, but yes, our stewards helped us into our dress uniforms. I'd forget my coat and -"

It occurs to him that Raju might not realize his former steward is here

"Thomas Jopson was my steward in Antarctica, and then on that last expedition. He hated when I started shaving my own beard."

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