"Alrighty, Mr. Late, you ready to do some cooking?!"
The 'sparky' kid was talking to him. Wheeler had nicknamed a friend from the site 'sparky', but that was ages ago, this was wasn't him. Come to think of it, his 'sparky' had given Wheelers character his hawkmon, the admins were even cool with it, what ever happened with that? Anyways, the point was that new 'sparky' wasn't old 'sparky'. The dude had a giant smile on his face. Of course he did; he didn't have to be assistant chef for the Artist formerly known as Death on the Battlefield.
"I think you dudes get off easy, your up in the crows nest."
Wheeler kinda chuckled to himself, it would seem, that 'sparky' had misheard The good first officer. Even team daybreak seemed to have understood their orders. That was saying something. Wheeler didn't mean to mentally poke fun at the guy, but he was seriously trying to figure out who's character he was. Gut feeling told him it was his 'Lil bro' Phantom. If he'd been a better friend, he might have kept up with every ones threads and characters. The hyena haired youth felt a sting of guilt over that.
"By the way, this little guy is Jojo. And my name is Trevor. I was just joking around about the Late thing. What's your guys' names?"
"Names Wheeler, and my lovely young friend is nymph."
So, 'sparky' was Trevor. Ight, he could live with that. Trevor's partner was a Gaomon(?), he was pretty sure. He didn't think the punching dog digimon had any subspecies or varients, but, it was possible. The pair seemed to share an ear to eat grin, but why Trevor was listening he couldn't quite figure out. New tamers and their partners had a habit of acting the same, even though they were different.
They would take turns switching between their combined extremes before their writer became familiar with them as individual characters. It was a trait shared by newbies and vets who either didn't have time to distinguish between the characters, or we're just taking it easy. Either that, or the writer would just ignore the fact that they a tamer and a Digimon to rp for... Oh yeah...
"it's nice to meet you Trevor and jojo."
The floramon gave the pair a kind smile from behind her petal mask. It was nice to meet others, besides mr. Victor and his partners, they had only met that, creepy, tarukae. Hopefully this Trevor guy didn't have anything to do with him. Well, no, she'd met David and his partners when she'd hatched from her digiegg, so really, she knew most of the people on the boat. She suddenly felt really popular for some reason.
Nymph, still holding her tamers arm, started pulling him away from Trevor and team daybreak, who seemed to want to keep to themselves and didn't even say hi, and after victor and his sleeping partners. They had a job to do, and was to help mr. Victor make breakfast. She didn't know anything about cooking, mostly being a fan of uncooked fruits, but it was their job, and it was important to do it.
"Come on wheeler, let's go help Mr. Victor, see you later Trevor and Jojo! Have fun in the birds nest!"
The flower girl skipped with her tamer down into the, well she didn't know what it was really called so shed call it the kitchen, made sense. wheeler, sweat drop, had enough time to give the guys a wave before he was drug down to his doom by a smiling flower girl. She was all bubbly bout the obligation, but Her tamer knew the French knight; this ranked at least a 7 out of 11 on his freakish¡t meter.
How does one cook without a suitable fuel for the fire!"
Wheeler chuckled out load, taking victors situation into consideration. Modern convention would be the death of him, pour guy. Wheeler patted the victor on the back, understandingly. A man, knew his means of preparing food. Some, it was a microwave, others a open flame and spit. How many times was he forced to use an oven that he new nothing about after becoming accustom to his own?
Knowingly, the tamer walked past victor, turning on the gas to the oven and igniting the stove top things. He was so well practiced to their use and function, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what those thing you put a frying pan on we're called. He turned the temperature on to medium, places two large flat pans onto the two front burners, and reached for the oil that was kept above the stove. He dropped a slight amount into each pan, as common practice, and turned back to his long haired friend, with a warm grin.
"Don't worry about it victor, I got your back. You handle the menu and I'll handle the prep. After you get the pans hot, it's the same as what you'd be use to. But, I'm going to have to ask you to wear a hair tie."