I travel two towns to get the cash out. All the time we're moving on the bus, it's fine to just use the card wherever we are at the time, but being the paranoid hunter I am, I go a few miles extra just for a comfy night in a bed.
And the slowest part of that journey?
The goddamn cash machine.
I get back before hotel service arrives at any rate. Just about. As in, I'm tumbling through the window just as the guy knocks.
Stumbling slightly, I vault over the beds and open the door, shoving half of the money in his hands as he handed me the menu. His eyes widen and he looks at me in a way that suggests I probably just gave him more than he earns a night. I shrug smile and leave the door open as I wander over to Gabby, who's looking at the menu intently.
"Pancakes. I'm in the mood for pancakes, but not the American kind. The English kind," she says, looking up at me.
"Well don't tell me that, tell the guy at the door," I say gesturing to the open door.
"But will he even know what I mean?" I look over at the guy, knowing somehow that he was listening to us. He shrugs and shakes his head.
"I'll cook them myself if I have to," I mutter, loud enough for the guy to hear, but more aimed at Gabby. She turns, gets up and walks over to the guy and tries to explain it.
"C'mon, you must know. Like... Yorkshire pudding mix, made flat." The guy looks confused.
"...You don't know what that is, do you?" she lets out a sigh and looks back at me, "Alex, he doesn't even know what a Yorkshire pudding is. These people are deprived." She walks back into room and sits on the bed. "I give up." I laugh slightly. I can't help it. Deprived? The guy looks like he's fit to bust a gut.
"Sure. Where's the kitchen? I'll do it." the guy looks at me nervously.
"The kitchen isn't open to the public, sir," he tells me and I smile wearily, resisting the urge to hit him.
"My girlfriend wants English pancakes, and you don't know how to do them, but I do. The logical conclusion is to just let me use the kitchen for half an hour. That's all. Half a bloody hour." Gabby grabs my hand and tells me to calm down. Well, you'd have thought they would be happy for someone else to do their work for them, wouldn't you? I wave another fifty under his nose and he relents. Gabby giggles as he leads us down to the kitchen and lets us in.
The ‘chef' in the kitchen doesn't really seem to care. He just stares at Gabby a lot. That annoys me. I make my eyes go red, though I'm not hungry and give him a quick glare, before letting them turn blue again. It's only a split second glance, but it's enough to make him stop staring at Gabby.
Anyways, the pancakes don't take long to make.
"What d'ya want on them?" I ask as I flip the first one over in the pan.
"Chocolate sauce. Is there any of that?" I look over at the chef guy. He nods. A keep looking at him til he gets the message and goes and gets it. He slams it down on the counter in front of me and Gabby grins.
"Yay!" she exclaims, eyeing the bottle, "I want loads, like... Mmm..." her stomach growls and she laughs. I smile and kiss her on the cheek, pulling a plate towards me to put the pancake on. I slide the sauce over to her.
"There you go," I chuckle, seeing the expression on her face. She grabs the bottle, tipping it upside down and when I look back from tipping some more mixture in the pan, most of the sauce is now on the pancake.
And by some miracle, she's managed to get it all over her. And it's worse than when it's blood, because it's not like it was a wound, spurting the blood everywhere. That and it doesn't taste anywhere near as good as blood.
I can't believe I just said that.
Someone slap me.
Gabby giggles like a possessed child as she looks at the sauce on her hands, then grins up at me. Before I can even react, she pokes my cheek, getting the sauce on me, too. My lips curve up slowly and I stick my finger in the sauce on her pancake, lifting them up threateningly. I wipe the sauce on the end of her nose and laugh as I realise I've just started a food fight in the hotel kitchen.