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Hibiscus is exhausted.
Today's shift in the medical bay was long and far from pleasant. A slew of new patients, checkup day for some of the more obstinate operators, a harsh flare-up near the end of the shift that pushed her into working overtime...no one died today, and that alone is a relief, but Hibiscus would love nothing more than to pass out in her nice, warm bed for about a week straight.
But first, food. She's absolutely starving, and there's little to do about that at two in the morning. Thankfully for her, she had the foresight to prep a meal. And by prep, she had bought the healthiest premade salad she could find, wrote her name on it even though she knew no one else would go after it, and left it in the nearest kitchen fridge. She drags her weary body along, telling herself how good she'll feel after getting some fresh leafy greens in her body.
...strange, but it looks like the lights are on in this kitchen. And there's a delicious smell in the air too. But who else, aside from medical, would be up at this hour to cook? Well, none of Hibiscus's business, she'll just slide in aaaaaaaaaand...wait a minute.
Hibiscus stops in the doorway. Two pairs of eyes lock on her own. Two very familiar pairs of eyes, and not a pair she expected to see together at this hour in a kitchen in a state like this.
The former Graf Urtica, normally a pinnacle of melancholy poise, is dressed down to an oversized band hoodie and pajama pants. He seems to be cooking something in a skillet. Besides him, the Afterglow's famed composer is clad in the most garishly colored button-up shirt Hibiscus has ever had the horror of seeing, and he's munching on a plain pancake that's been rolled up like a crepe. They both blink. Hibiscus blinks back. The spell does not break until the batter in the skillet begins to smoke, which leads to Ebenholz swearing and Czerny taking over to extricate the burnt pancake. They briefly discuss it in low Leithanien before slipping it onto one of two plates of pancakes.
Czerny exhales before turning his attention to Hibiscus. "Gute Nacht, Fraulein. Möchtest du ein Pfannkuchen?"
It takes Hibiscus a moment to respond, both from translating and from comprehending the sight before her. "I'm...alright. Was just going to make a salad."
"Are you sure?" Ebenholz asks. "You look quite famished, and we made plenty. I swear not all of them are as bad as this one."
Hibiscus glances at the pancakes. One plate is piled with perfectly fluffy golden-brown pancakes. The other pile is a little more uneven, the size and color varying, but still appear to be mostly serviceable attempts. Reminds Hibiscus of her early baking attempts as a child, though those were often more chaotic with how many substitutions she had to make in the name of a healthy meal.
Truth be told, they do look better than a salad. She knows it's the hunger talking, that anything would sound good right now, she should have her salad and leave these two to their late-night baking escapade. Be strong, Hibiscus! Be...strong...!
"I suppose I can take one or two, if it's not too much trouble. Though don't either of you tell Lava about this, okay? I'll never hear the end of it."
"We'd never dare," Ebenholz says. With a wink! And even a smile! He must be in a good mood if he's smiling at Hibiscus, even if it's been awhile since he tried to run from her. He turns to Czerny and shoos the composer away from the stove. "Here, I can take over cooking. Clearly I still need the practice! I won't burn any others, I swear. Go on, sit down..."
After a tired attempt at protesting on Czerny's part, he gives up and acquires a third plate, which receives an even share of both pancake towers. Hibiscus helps by grabbing the silverware and, after a moment of deliberation over what constitutes as a healthy option for pancake toppings, brings over some jam. She half expects to be called out for ignoring the butter and maple syrup that her twin and the rest of their old squad would slather all over these pancakes. Instead, her dining companion slices into perfectly plain pancakes, hands faintly trembling.
Ah, that explains things; a certain someone forgot to eat before his blood sugar crashed. Again. Though there should be food in his room, sent there to ensure he remembers to eat even when in the throes of composing (not that this actually helps half the time). So...why instead resort to cooking at unfathomably late hours? Better than resorting to vending machine snacks like certain people codenamed Lava, but still...
"Do you do this often? Pancakes at odd hours of the morning, I mean."
Czerny shrugs as he chews. "I suppose? Enough that Ebenholz has finally started learning how to cook them himself."
Ebenholz exclaims from the stove, "You wouldn't let me the first few times! I had to try it out when you weren't looking, you Trotzkopf."
"Aus verständlichen Gründen. Though I admit you've improved with practice, liebling." Hold on; Hibiscus knows that last word, doesn't she? Doesn't it mean... "But to answer your question, Fraulein, this has become something of a habit when busy days bleed into busier nights. I used to do the same when I was younger, before I had Ursula to keep me on a schedule."
Hibiscus takes a bite of her own pancake pile, starting with one of the golden-brown ones at the top. It's...actually really good. Soft and warm, chewy but not doughy. Pretty perfect, she has to say. "So, you used to cook for yourself, then? I guess I assumed Ursula handled all that for you."
"Why does everyone always assume that I cannot cook? I know my way around a stove! I am, in fact, fairly practiced in the recipes I am fond of! I just...get busy." Czerny says this while gesticulating with his fork, pieces of pancake still speared on the tines. "I didn't always have Ursula around, you know. She only moved in later, once her wife passed and my health had declined enough to leave me bed bound some days. But before that, I survived on my own well enough. I am not, by any means, a child who cannot care for himself."
Judging by the vein of anger in his voice, this isn't the first time such an assumption's been made about him. Hibiscus puts her hands up in a show of peace; "Sorry. I...didn't mean to accuse you of anything. You just always seem so busy and caught up in your work, you know? I mean, you barely touch the food we get sent to your room. So I figured you were one of those people who just...didn't care about food at all, much less cooking it."
"Nein, nein. I have hunger just like anyone else. I merely..." For once, the composer is at a loss for words, the drumming of his fork on the table making a melody where his voice should be instead. He mutters dismissively after a moment, "Well, it is as the other medics say. I am equal parts forgetful and particular."
"Not true! And don't you listen to their gossip. They're just..." Overworked and stretched thin across the entire landship, which doesn't always work well with folks who aren't model patients. "I'll give them a talking to."
"No, please don't. It's fine. It is my nature, and I am well aware of it by this point of my life." His voice pitches up to an impression of an exasperated parent, "William, what do you mean the kraut is too slimy to eat? William, you can't eat the same thing for breakfast every day . If you have time to complain, you have time to do something useful about it."
He sighs and prods his meal with his fork, as if the prospect of eating the rest is swiftly souring. "I've always had problems with food. My body disagrees with most of it, and there was rarely enough to go around in the first place. So it often became easiest to simply ignore any hunger I had until it became too big to ignore." He holds up a hand to test if it's still shaking. It is. He sighs and cuts into another pancake.
Hibiscus is reminded all too much of how she used to chide Lava. Lava used to make a lot of the same complaints too. Part of why she always goes to those vending machine snacks of hers, apparently; they'd always taste the same, always the same texture, always knew what to expect. Like box mix pancakes found on shelves from Rhodes Island's pantries to a Leithanien market.
(Also reminds her of other squadmates, like how Fang would always make sure everyone else had been cared for first before daring to sit down. Checking in with Beagle near the end of things where she'd looked tired and pale, but said getting used to occasional bouts of hunger was something any soldier had to content with. How nowadays Kroos still cooks old favorite meals she can no longer stand to eat herself, one eye always metaphorically open to feed friends that used to go hungry and now...can't.)
Hibiscus says, "You know...you aren't the first person to report symptoms and habits like that. Especially here, since most Infected like us come from poverty. Not just being used to scarcity, but not getting the support needed for other conditions. So if you do speak up about those things during checkups, any medic worth their salt will understand. And you can always talk to me!" She's already got ideas on things to test, ways she might be able to help from the medical side of things, but that will all have to wait. Interrupting Pancake Hour with work seems rather taboo. "In the meantime, I could always help you get supplies for cooking, if you'd rather eat your own meals? Just so you don't get sick of pancakes."
"I appreciate the offer Fraulein, but you're busy enough as is."
"As are you! Don't think I haven't noticed. We could both use a break to walk outside in a market and go shopping, right?" She glances over at Ebenholz and adds, "You could even join us! I've heard how good your haggling skills are at the trading post."
Ebenholz shrugs at the offer. "I suppose someone needs to keep the both of you in check. Hey, don't give me that look, you know I'm right! Oh, warte kurz..."
With utmost concentration, as if he's casting his strongest Arts at a difficult opponent, Ebenholz flips his current pancake out of the skillet and onto the plate. Perfectly round and golden-brown. The Caprinae breaks into a joyful grin as he shows off his glorious creation.
Hibiscus claps for him as Czerny says, "A good effort, liebling. Don't let it get to your head until you can do it again."
Ebenholz rolls his eyes at Czerny, but he's still smiling as he pours in the rest of the batter. Hibiscus says, "Hard to believe he's the same guy we picked up in the Afterglow, huh?"
"Indeed. He's come a long way. It turns out there was a large heart, underneath all the trappings of nobility." The composer watches his fellow Leithanien for a long moment, and the soft look on his face is as far as Hibiscus can imagine from how the duo argued before that fateful concert. His voice is low as he continues, "It is like...a hound that was only ever raised to bark and fight, finally freed from war to live in a safe home. It bites at first, and there are bad habits to break before anyone feels safe. But once that happens? It is so happy to explore the world, and wags its tail at anyone it meets."
"...Literally, it looks like." Hibiscus smiles and quietly points out that Ebenholz's little Caprinae tail, for once visible in this casual outfit, is also wagging from the success of his cooking attempts. Czerny hides a snicker behind one of his giant hands, which is the closest she's ever seen him to laughing.
Hibiscus continues, "I think what you said is true of a lot of people, really. Give them a safe place, take care of their basic needs, and they can flourish instead of spending all their energy on surviving. And that's not to say Rhodes Island is perfect or without strife! But not having to worry about where your next meal is coming from, or if you can get adequate medical care...or what nobles and spies are breathing down your neck in the case of you two...it helps a lot, doesn't it? You're not in a cage anymore."
Czerny hums at this, brows creasing even though his eyes don't stray from Ebenholz. "I never realized how tight a cage it was, truly. I was only ever concerned with what I could see, blocking out the rest. What use had I for the rest of the world if I could not see it? So long as I had my music, and could keep the others around me happy..."
"And that is how one keeps a trapped nightingale singing," Ebenholz concludes, finally striding over with his stacked plate of pancakes (and a pitcher of sugary syrup, which he and Hibiscus hold a brief staring contest over). "You drape a cloth over the cage, block out the light and all it reveals, and the nightingale sings for it thinks it has found eternal night. Or so I recall from a fairytale, once. It stuck with me, even though I never dared read it more than once."
Hibiscus has to wonder if a certain other Rhodes Island medic has heard that fairytale before, or if there's another reason for her codename. "Well, whether it's a constricting cage or a comforting home, it's never easy to leave what's familiar. And I'm proud of both of you, because you've both come so far already! So as both your friend and your doctor, please let me know if there's ever anything I can do to help. Even if it's not medical or cooking stuff!"
The pair of Leithaniens share a look, the same kind they share when performing together in perfect harmony, as if they can read each other's minds through just a glance and a tune drummed onto the table. Czerny is the one to say, "We will let you know, Fr...Hibiscus. And of course, we must offer the same. Not just assisting in whatever manners we may, mind you, but the rest of it too."
Confusion must be clear on Hibiscus's face, because Ebenholz clears his throat to verbally step in. "I believe what he means is that if you need a break, you are always happy to join us. We know you are a medic in high demand, but you need to step back now and again too. Even if it's for something other than music. Or pancakes. We're here for you too, just as you are here for us."
"Danke, that summed it up nicely. Though speaking of music, we do need to talk about your flute lessons." Which leads to Ebenholz lightly elbowing Czerny's side until the Elafia amends, "Not necessarily right now , just...sometime."
Hibiscus smiles at them even as, to her surprise, warmth spreads through her chest and pricks at her eyes. Why is this offer of support and catching her so off guard? It's not like no one ever offers to help her, or that she's without friends even with how much her original squad has drifted apart. Maybe the exhaustion tugging at her eyes and the sugar on her tongue is to blame
"Ah, Hibiscus? Are you..."
"Shh. Alles wird gut, Freundchen."
A handkerchief is passed over. Hibiscus takes it and dabs at her eyes before proceeding to make an absolute mess of it like syrup uncorked over an unsuspecting breakfast. How long has it been since she actually let herself cry in front of anyone? She never thought of herself as the sort to bottle things up, but she's just been so busy with everyone's health, their nutrition, their morale...perhaps there is the slightest chance that she neglected her own.
She's not sure how long she cries for. Time stops making much sense so late at night. A warm hand settles on her back, rubbing slow circles. A song is hummed, close to a lullaby she used to know. The air remains warm and sweet. With her eyes closed, it is too easy to pretend that Hibiscus is a child back home in Victoria again, or basking in the camaraderie of her old squad just a few years ago.
Such memories should make her tears flow harder. Instead, Hibiscus finds herself comforted. How lucky, to again and again find family and friends she can trust her whole heart with! Isn't that proof of kindness everywhere? That she can still find pieces of her past cropping up in her present, that everything comes full circle again and again, that even in the darkest night there are friends who support each other with words and good food?
She tries to voice this appreciation to her friends. She's afraid that all she can get out is a blubbering "bwaaaah I love you guuuuys".
"We...love you too, Hibiscus. Neither of us would be here if not for you."
"And you're still looking out for us, after all this time! It's only fair that we return the favor. At least with pancakes. Better than a salad, I hope?"
Hibiscus sighs as she dries her eyes again. "At least in terms of taste, I must admit it won out this time. Not that I should make a habit of eating them! But maybe the next time we're all free at the same time, we could all cook something together? Maybe we can find something all three of us can agree on, if we keep practicing together!"
Czerny grumbles, with a hint of fondness, "So long as you do not try to inflict your salads on me, Freundchen, I suppose I could be convinced to try. Just...be patient with me."
"Of course! I wouldn't be a doctor if I didn't have patience." It takes a moment, surely for internal translation, before her joke is met with groans, and the moody air finally lifts in full. The smile now resting on Hibiscus's face is easy and earnest. "Now, onto a lighter note...there's a Leithanien word I was hoping you could translate for me?" Her friends nod at her. "So I think I get what Freundchen is, but what's the difference between that word you keep calling each other? What was it...Liebling? Because if I didn't know any better..."
Turns out that pale as they are, both of her friends can blush bright as the heated coils of an oven when embarrassed. And even though Hibiscus is still exhausted, something about eating and laughing with friends makes it feel like no problem at all.