doesntsing | open post

“Women do most of the cooking here, but Yennefer does seem unconventional.” She probably ought to be careful. This country isn’t always favorable to unconventional women, particularly not literal witches.

Midge watches Geralt squint at the label and wonders for the first time if he can’t read. She never would have suspected that. Then Jaskier enters the kitchen and she’s distracted by his handsomeness.

“Hello, darling,” she says, giving him a soft kiss. “You smell much better now.”

Midge pours herself a little bit more wine. “This is Manischewitz, Kosher wine,” she says. “It’s very sweet.” She glances at Ciri. “In moderation, okay?”

When Jaskier catches up to the Yennefer conversation, he laughs as well. "Darling, I doubt that high-end ladies do any cooking in this world either. Sorceresses are advisors for kings, remember?"

Of course, Yennefer's life is more complicated than that, but it's not his story to tell. Besides, it quickly summarizes the point: Yennefer doesn't cook because she's a lady above that stuff.

Geralt snorts when Midge says that Jaskier is smelling better - they both started to stink of horniness as soon as they saw each other. Jaskier playfully slaps him on the arm and tells him be nice.

Ciri rolls her eyes at the moderation comment. "That's what they always say, and look." She makes a gesture to indicate that Geralt and Jaskier are having a second cup, too. Geralt decides to reward her for helping and lets her have another tiny sip. "What does 'Kosher' mean?" Cirilla asks, not noticing Jaskier wincing.

“Fair enough,” Midge replies. She hadn’t remembered that bit about the sorceresses being part of the royal court. This brownstone must be really down market for her.

Midge would like to point out that it’s not her fault that Geralt can smell hormones, nor can she contain hers when Jaskier is around. At least he can have no doubt about how sexually attracted to each other they are.

“Kosher is a way of eating,” Midge tells Ciri, sure that Jaskier is hating this conversation. “It’s part of my religion. I’m Jewish. Kosher basically means that there are things we aren’t supposed to eat, or things we aren’t supposed to eat together, or that animals should be slaughtered in a certain way.”

Geralt frowns at the explanation - there are many religions back in their world with all kinds of crazy habits, but controlling what someone eats is new. At least, not counting holiday food or fasting. He arches an eyebrow at Jaskier, who shakes his head to stop him from saying anything. Luckily, it's easy for Geralt to keep his mouth shut. He's spent many decades just ignoring what humans say and staying in his line.

"So you can't eat whatever you want? That sounds annoying," Ciri comments with a cute little frown of her own.

"Well," Jaskier cuts in with a clap of his hands, eager to redirect the conversation. "Luckily for us, Midge is spoiling us with her best dish! And let me tell you, it's absolutely delicious. What's the next step, darling?"

“I mostly eat whatever I want,” Midge replies, “even bacon sometimes, which I’m not supposed to.” She generally doesn't feel limited by eating Kosher. It probably also helps that she’s not absolutely militant about it.

Jaskier is very pointedly changing the subject, and that’s fine with her. “The secret ingredient,” Midge says. With the wine and beef broth in, Midge holds up the next item. “Ketchup. A lot of people use tomato paste, but ketchup is better.”

That little admission of rebellion actually earns her some points with the whole family, including Jaskier. It almost makes him wish it wasn't such a complicated subject, because he'd love to tease her for it.

Geralt takes the bottle of ketchup and repeats the process: he gives it a sniff, then he reads the label. Once again, a bunch of words that he doesn't understand. High fructose? Natural flavoring? Calories? This is why he wants to learn; he often feels so lost in the market.

"Why not just use mashed tomatoes?" he genuinely asks.

"Oh, I remember this! It was on the hot dog," Cirilla says, excited to know something her father doesn't. "It's good, but it doesn't taste like tomatoes."

That only confuses Geralt more.

“I think it tastes like tomatoes,” Midge says with a shrug. Maybe she’s been living in the city too long. She gets out a quarter measuring cup and starts to pour the ketchup into it. “Anyway, it’s got sugar, vinegar and some other things in there which mix very nicely with the meat, better than just plain tomato paste.”

Ketchup in the pot, Midge calls for the rest of the vegetables to be put in. “Once this is simmering
we’ll move all of it to a casserole dish to put in the oven. Do you have any dried herbs, like rosemary or thyme?”

More kitchen essentials she presumed they’d have.

It's a very innocent question, but Jaskier and Ciri end up laughing anyway. Geralt rolls his eyes at them before opening a cupboard to proudly show Midge his collection of herbs. The glass jars don't have lids; they're covered by a piece of fabric that is tied with string. The homemade labels were clearly written by Jaskier's fine penmanship because he hates Geralt's handwriting.

"Told you it was only half the garden," Jaskier teases, but he's proud of Geralt and his little hobby too.

“Oh, lovely,” Midge says with a grin. So quaint. She easily finds rosemary and thyme and starts to measure some of them out. “Amazing that you grew all this in that little plot of land.” Midge looks at the jars. “This is your handwriting,” she says to Jaskier. “I’d recognize it anywhere.”

It occurs to her that she’d love to get a handwritten love note from Jaskier someday. Maybe she’ll leave him one and get the ball rolling.

She stirs the vegetables around the meat. “Casserole dish with lid?” she asks hopefully.

"Herbs don't require much space," Geralt explains. He still doesn't know what to do with compliments, but they do feel nice. "You can even grow some of them in jars."

Jaskier grins when Midge recognizes his handwriting, feeling all warm and fuzzy by such a silly but loving thing. "Of course. Someone had to make things legible in this house. Did you know that when you depend on your nose to find things, your handwriting becomes absolute crap?"

Geralt playfully slaps Jaskier's arm and the bard sticks his tongue out at him, so it's up to Ciri to bring the casserole dish out.

“Now, now children,” Midge says in a faux scolding tone. “Play nice.”

After Ciri hands her the dish, Midge spears the meat with two forks and transfers it to the dish. She then carefully spoons out the vegetables and puts them around the meat and pours the liquid on top. With the lid on the dish, it goes into the oven.

“And there you have it. Now — “ Midge turns to Geralt. “You have the very important job of checking on it every 40 minutes or so. Stir the vegetables and if it looks too dry, add some water to it. Got that?”

Ciri laughs at Midge's faux scolding and Jaskier pouts - he's being mistreated here, this is a scandal! Geralt just hums as usual, not liking being scolded but not willing to argue about it either. He does pay very close attention to Midge's instructions, nodding along to every word. He looks very focused.

"You've given him a mission," Yennefer's voice echoes in the kitchen as she comes in to partake in some wine. Midge's suitcase has been left by the door, and it's still glowing a tiny bit. "I was told today we could relax."

"I still can relax," Geralt answers with a frown. Jaskier and Cirilla laugh while Yennefer snorts, shaking her head.

Is the joke that Geralt never relaxes? Midge doesn’t know him well enough yet, so she just smiles for now. “If one of you checks on in a few times today, it should be fine. Hopefully it won’t disturb your peace too much.” Midge winks.

She turns to Jaskier and Ciri. “Ready to go?”

"Peace?" Jaskier asks. "Is that what we're calling it now?" Ciri says gross as both Yennefer and Geralt slap him on the arm. Ah, family.

Jaskier nods at Midge's question and gets his blue trenchcoat, which he already left in the living room. Ciri runs upstairs to get hers while Jaskier checks all his pockets for his wallet, phone, and notebook.

"You know this city the best. Cab? Subway? Walking?"

“It might not be that peaceful,” Midge concedes. Much like the state Jaskier’s room will be in that evening.

After redressing to go out in her coat, hat and gloves, Midge picks up her purse and the three of them walk outside. They look dapper, ready for a day out.

“Let’s take a cab. It’s a bit far to walk from here.”

At the curb, Midge raises her hand, trying to hail a taxi.

"Am I not the one supposed to do that?" he teases. "You're making me look like a bad gentleman."

Jaskier decides to let Midge sit in the middle when they take over the back seat. Usually, that's a spot for the smallest person, but he can tell Ciri is eager to chat, and he doesn't want to let go of his new girlfriend. So he keeps an arm around Midge's shoulders and lets his favorite girls sit together. Ciri showers Midge with questions about her clothes and makeup, the classic teenager that wishes to be as pretty and grownup as the women in the magazines. It's very cute and Jaskier smiles the whole ride, but part of him still worries about Ciri struggling with her identity.

Soon they arrive at the museum, and Jaskier lets Midge takes his arm while Ciri walks ahead of them. He realizes what they look like and hopes that Midge's age stops anyone from thinking that Ciri's their daughter.

"Do you promise this is a good place and I am not about to see a bunch of paint stains on canvas?"

“Just showcasing the unconventional nature of our relationship,” she replies with a smile. “Besides, they’re more likely to stop for a beautiful woman.”

Midge is happy to sit in the middle so that she and Ciri can talk, especially because she still gets to hold Jaskier’s hand. Makeup and fashion are two of Midge’s favorite topics, and it’s nice to get to talk about them. She promises Ciri that she’ll take her to the makeup counter at B Altman one day. All teenagers struggle with their identities. They have to explore different things in order to figure things out.

People might think that Ciri is one of their younger sisters. It depends on how complimentary the person wishes to be.

“I promise,” Midge says. “Most of that stuff is at MOMA.”

They stop inside to pick up a map. “Do you want to see paintings from the time on Earth that corresponds most to the place you two came from?”

The unconventional nature of our relationship makes him laugh. Oh, he loves that.

"I want to see everything!"

And he means it.

Jaskier just follows the map in order - usually, he's more of an agent of chaos, but he doesn't want to miss a single thing. He stops at every painting and every statue, always spending several seconds to admire the details and make some commentary on them. Ciri does enjoy the art itself, but thinks Jaskier stays too long at each piece.

When they reach 'their' time period, Jaskier can help but freeze and stare.

"This is... uncanny, to say the least."

This is slower than Midge would prefer to progress through the museum, but she’s trying to let Jaskier experience what he wants to experience. The ancient Egyptian works are interesting. The early European art, less so. A lot of religious scenes. She’s sure they’re not Jaskier’s favorites either.

Things start to change when they get to the Renaissance. Jaskier’s reaction makes Midge smile.

“Hmm…” she leans in to look at the dates of the paintings. “1600s. Yep. That’s about right.”

Turning a corner, Midge comes face to face with this painting and calls Jaskier and Ciri over. “See? I told you we had bards.”

Since the art isn't preaching at him, Jaskier can still appreciate the religious paintings. He knows that getting funds from the church is the only way for many artists to survive; the same happened in his world. And in many cases here, he doesn't even recognize them as religious scenes - some of them aren't as obvious if you don't know the myths.

Cirilla giggles at the painting of the bard, but Jaskier is absolutely delighted. After the initial gasp, he gets as close as possible to take in every detail.

"Oh, look at him! That grin, he looks so happy! And he's actually wearing colors, too! The lute--"

He has a lot to say about the lute. Stop him while you can.

Eh, Midge doesn’t stop him. It’s cute how excited he is. Once it seems like he’s winding down, she points at another painting across the room.

“There’s us at the gig.” Midge squints at the painting. “Really weird proportions on that. The woman seems like kind of an afterthought.”

The next one makes both Jaskier and Cirilla laugh.

"What happened to her chest?" Ciri asks, unsure if being amused or weirded out.

"She reminds me of the Duchess of Attre," Jaskier replies between chuckles. "Did you get to meet her?"

Ciri nods. "We didn't talk much. Grandmother didn't like her."

Jaskie snorts. "Your grandmother didn't like anybody." Ciri's eyes get a bit sad, but she still chuckles.

“Her tits look very uncomfortable,” Midge agrees. “Bras and girdles are bad enough. Corsets are torture.”

She turns to Ciri as they walk to the next gallery. “Sounds like my Bubbe, or grandmother. She wasn’t very nice towards the end, but I think she was in a lot of pain.”

That’s not quite the same situation as Ciri’s grandmother, but Midge is trying to sympathize.

This conversation has definitely taken a turn. Jakier wonders if he should've brought up Cirilla's childhood at all, but it's not like she minded answering his question. She comes closer and searches for his hand, so Jaskier holds it gently and gives it a comforting squeeze.

"So she got sick? And before that, she was nice?" Ciri asks Midge while staying glued to Jaskier. "Do you have good memories of her?"

Poor thing. The way she reaches for Jaskier’s hand is so sweet.

“I do,” Midge replies. “She taught me to cook some things, and she always used to tell me Russian folk tales. That’s how I got interested in Russian Literature.”

Thanks! Also aww Ciri

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