#baronyofthesilverwolf

Danica listens. She stops to ask questions here and there, but these are for clarification on details he's provided, not prying into information he is clearly withholding. Finally, she nods. "Now I see the big picture. You did well."

"Yeah, actually I did" He says, allowing the surprise to show in his tone, "I don't know if this sort of thing IS for me. Cooking makes me happy, and I think I should do what makes me happy when I can. But I can't always, I know that. And the only way I'd ever become full time Chef here? I don't want it that way." Dead serious there "No one sane should. I might dabble at investigations now and then. I've got an idea but I'm not sure it would work. Then again, it might make perfect sense for ME."

She raises a brow. "And that is?"

"i'm thinking of a food truck and investigation agency combo" he says gauging her reaction

Danica leans back against the counter, crossing her arms. “It’s unconventional, but I think it could work. You’d have the freedom to do what makes you happy while keeping an ear to the ground. You know, there are a lot of people who would appreciate having someone like you on their side—someone who can dig up information while serving up a good meal. It’s got a certain charm to it.”

She takes another bite of the cookie and nods thoughtfully. “If anyone could pull off a combination like that, it’d be you.”

A surprised look, "Thank you, Danica. That's very gratifying to hear. You think it COULD work, and that gives me more reason to consider it"

"Now I have to decide how varied I should get" He ponders then smirks "I could set up a donut wagon and get the cops talking"

A snort, amused. She adds, "Skip the powdered. Most experience cops avoid those because they don't want to get the sugar on their uniform, it's a bad look."

Danica considers his idea, then adds, “You might want to keep your menu flexible. Tailor the food to the situation and the people you're around. Tacos, for instance, could be a hit with migrant workers. Sure, it might sound like a stereotype, but there’s a reason certain foods resonate with specific groups. It’s about understanding your audience and making them feel comfortable.”

She gives him a thoughtful look. “The right dish can open doors and conversations. Just keep an eye on who you’re serving, and you’ll find that food can be as powerful a tool as any other. Play on the same potential as your piskey attributes.”

Danica adds thoughtfully, “If you’re serious about this, you might want to talk to Thistle about modding a truck. She could help you set it up so you can switch out signs easily, depending on where you are and what you’re serving. That way, you can adapt to different crowds without much hassle.”

She gives him a small smile. “It’ll make your operation more versatile, and Thistle’s got the skills to make it happen.”

"No powdered" He listens

Then he says "Switch it around? That's... not a bad idea. Thanks, Danica. " a smile

Then he grins in triumph, " I think I got the recipe right. HA, even a nocker might be impressed!" He pulls a new batch out

Danica looks interested…

"Baker's dozen" he breaks the thirteen cookie in half "Tell me what you think of this one? We're mostly going by Marigold's wisdom and an old reciepe, unless you've had one from the 70s we're BOTH guessing"

He hands her the other half.

She crunches down. "How old do you think I am?" She says, then quickly shakes her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. I don't know what flavor exactly you're going for, but these are good - really good. The... is that crushed pecans? Give it a nice texture."

"Balefire messes things up for good or ill" he says "Let's hope he likes it. Thank you for the input and the taste test" He gathers the remaining twelve and stores them carefully "I got to go see a nocker about a cookie"

She gives him a nod and heads out, snagging another of the 'tester' cookies before she goes.

Don't make me like you he thinks, but the truth is she did him a good turn. If only she weren't wound so tight.

He gathers his cookies and goes out again. It's a point of pride. He also reminds himself to check on Lydia to see how his reward is coming through.

The delivery to Grimwald is a success! First, the elder Nocker takes charge of the troublesome device and promises to dismantle it so that it won't cause further trouble.

Second? Mm, the cookies. He gives them a suspicious sniff. "They don't look right." Crotchety annoyance in his voice.

Then, he tastes them...

"No?" Troubled

"Huh... " he ponders this "if you don't like I'll go back to the drawing board."

He eats a cookie, then a second one. "It's close. But something is still off. It's a good COOKIE, but it ain't no Golden Nut Cluster. Bring me another go next week."

Grimwald had set out mismatched mugs and chipped crockery for Maddern's visit. If he didn't know better, he might think the old man enjoyed the company.

No, of course not!

A dubious look, then a smile, "I'll get closer next time. " A thought, "Grimwald, you know much about food trucks?"

Grimwald gives Madern a sidelong glance, chewing thoughtfully on the cookie. “Food trucks, eh? Not my usual fare, but I’ve seen ‘em around. They’re a bit like mobile workshops, ain’t they? Gotta have everything in its place, easy to access, and sturdy enough to handle the bumps.”

He leans back in his chair, pondering. “You thinking of getting one set up? Might be a bit of work, but if you get it right, could be a right proper setup. You’d need good insulation, reliable power, and maybe some chimerical enhancements to keep things running smooth. And don’t forget about the signage—can’t have a food truck without a proper sign.”

Grimwald gives Madern a knowing look, his gruff demeanor softened slightly by the conversation. “You get it sorted, and I might even come by for a taste test. Just don’t expect me to be all nice about it.”

"Actually, I'm thinking of getting a combo food truck mystery machine.... " At the nice about it "Perish the thought, wouldn't want folks getting the wrong idea" He ponders "One lady suggested I swap the food around depending on where I was serving"

Grimwald raises an eyebrow, a flicker of interest in his usually gruff expression. “A combo food truck and mystery machine, eh? That’s not half bad. Might just be crazy enough to work.”

He scratches his chin, considering the idea. “Swapping the food around depending on where you’re parked makes sense. Tailor the menu to your crowd, keep things fresh. You’d need a versatile setup, though—something that can handle different cuisines without too much fuss.”

He pauses, then adds, “You’ll also want to think about storage and prep space. If you’re flipping from tacos to pastries to who knows what else, you’ll need the right equipment on hand. Ya want me advice - find a Nocker who knows their stuff. Could rig something up so you can switch out cooking stations or signage as needed. I ain't no chef, but I know that there's a damned difference between a deep fryer and a flat top."

Grimwald leans back, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Could be a real hit, if you play it right. Just don’t forget to keep bringing those cookies. Practice makes perfect, after all.”

"Maybe something extendible? Like a roll out counter?"

"And you'll get your cookies" A grin "I mean, who else can tell me what those are supposed to taste like?"

He slams a knobby-knuckled fist on the table. "No one, that's who!"

"You're a living testament to outliving your enemies so you get to be the expert" Said with good humor.

"Darn tootin'." He says, deadpan.

THAT gets a laugh out of the Piskey, "man, I really hope you meet Thistle."

"Eh, well, who knows how long I'll be around. Maybe you better make it 2 dozen cookies when you bring 'er round." Hangdog look. "Now, g'wan, I got WORK to do."

"Out of your hair" He makes a note make two dozen , each with a variation to increase his chances of getting it perfect.

And the pisky 'g'wans'