When Lightning Strikes Twice (KHR Fanfiction)

Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR in any way, shape, or form.

Author's Note: Guys, I said at least six chapters. Knowing me and my horrible abilities of plot, it'll be like eight to ten more or something. Or maybe six. Who knows? ((Also, if I had to personify my inspiration, it would be an empty potato chip bag. The kind that makes a really annoying crinkly sound.))

OoO

Lambo arrived at the kitchen with little to no difficulty. He hung by the archway awkwardly for a few moments, watching the cooks and servants bustle about the room. It was, what, four o'clock now? They should be getting ready for dinner. He cautiously entered the kitchen, but not a single person paid any notice to him. They were too busy with chopping, dicing, carving, and chatting with the kitchen maid next to them.

"Hello?" He asked the air. A few girls looked up, but they went back to their work just as quickly. "Hello?" He tried again, louder this time.

This time, at least ten people looked up, gazing intently at him before returning to their tasks. He squirmed and was just about to turn and leave when a teen standing vigil over a large pot said, "If you're wantin' for somethin', you're s'pposed ta talk to one of the shiners- the ones who cleans the halls an' bedrooms. But I s'pose the 'ead cook'll wanna talk to ya. She's the one with the pink sash." The boy pointed at a middle-aged woman scolding a girl with long, shiny hair.

"You daft girl! What, you think your pretty locks won't get into the dough? Imagine that! The masters finding a lock of your precious red hair in their pie! No, girl, you get out of my kitchen, and don't come back without a hair ribbon!" She scolded. Her accent told him that she was definitely English, and it had a very no-nonsense tone that was not reassuring towards his quest for sweets.

She then caught sight of Lambo in his leather coat, standing amongst her crew like a gentleman in a workhouse. "You must be the new guest. Welcome to the kitchens; I'm Alice, but you can just call me Chef or miss, thank you. Now, what are you doing here?"

"I was wondering if you had anything sweet."

"I hope he's not as bad as Giotto." The woman muttered under her breath. "Alright, give me a second…" She eyed him suspiciously. "And close your eyes."

He raised a questioning brow but did as requested. Unable to resist asking, he said, "Why?"

"In case you are as bad as Giotto." She muttered again. Then, louder, she said, "So you don't see where I've hidden them. Now hush."

He listened to her maneuver around the others, occasionally stopping to critique or compliment them. He heard her rummage through a cabinet and pull out a paper bag, take something from it, and put it back. He could probably track her movements better if it weren't so loud in here.

She approached him and put something- a cookie, most likely, judging from the texture- in his hand. Then she shooed him out the door. He opened his eyes and examined the treat, discovering that it was, in fact, a cookie, and a sugar cookie at that. He took bites out of the palm-sized cookie as he walked along the hallways, occasionally stopping to exchange idle pleasantries with the nicer servants. He peered into some of the rooms with fancier doors, but they mostly turned out to be fairly uninteresting rooms. A little breakfast nook, a sitting room, a meeting room.

Lambo wasn't entirely sure what he was doing himself, but he had nothing better to do. He got politely redirected a few times (from what were likely the Guardian and servant wings) and subtly prodded for information a few more times. He got tailed once or twice by curious servants and a cautious guard or two, but was otherwise left alone.