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Chef offered a helpful shrug. "Beats me. Not mah problem, heh heh." Was there even enough money in the budget for de-skunking spray? Probably not, which meant that the campers would have to trust Chef to whip up a formula to fix it... if it could be done. Usually campers had to sleep out doors and away from the rest of the campers 'til the smell wore off, but if an entire cabin got the treatment...

Chef emptied the last can and quickly backed away, taking the tomato-stained knife with him. "There yew go, knock yo'self out. Don't try ta splash too much, 'cause if the rest of yo cabin needs it..." He turned, disappearing first into his kitchen to drop his knife off, then to the tool shed.

While it was true that there was a high chance that Chef had access to a video of who did it... it was SO much more amusing to watch him fume about it. Heh heh, maybe he will look that video up, if only to satisfy his own curiosity.

Chef wasn't completely heartless, though. He returned to the tub with a couple poles and a tarp, and in a moment he had created a privacy screen. "There yew go. Now jus' stay away from mah kitchen, a'ight?"

With that, Chef disappeared back into his kitchen to continue preparing tomorrow's meals.

ozzie poked his head through the saloon-y doors and glanced around. the first thing he noticed were the sock puppets. wait, what? sock puppets tacked to the wall of a kitchen? he peered curiously at them. as he took in the rest of the kitchen he became more impressed. this was the nicest place he had seen since he woke up on the dock, even more so than his cabin. he slowly limped through the kitchen, trying to find something to munch on to take away the pain in his stomach.

When he felt sufficiently tomatoed up, Axl stood up and wrung out as much of the soup as he could from his fur. His team would need every last drop. Climbing carefully out of the tub, he headed off for the Seagull's cabin to tell them about the tomato soup.

She'd heard an old wives' tale once, when she was younger, that baking soda had the ability to remove a skunk's smell. Mixed with soap, you were guaranteed to stop smelling like a** so much quicker. So, she'd figured, why not? If she asked nicely enough, kept her smartass comments in order, and didn't poke around too terribly much, she might be able to get some of the stuff out of Chef. It was late in the evening, at any rate, so the man couldn't have been too terribly busy.

Padding up to the kitchen door, Annabel had very tentatively knocked at it, waiting to be heard instead of letting herself in. For a girl who had no manners, the best way to instill them was definitely being three times her size. Screw insulting them at every turn, the girl was smart enough not to ******** with somebody that size.

And so with patience, and just the tiniest hint of worry, Annabel waited for Chef to come and greet her.

Horror movies had absolutely nothing on this man and the level of fear he could show people. Scrambling away from the door like a jackrabbit on the asphalt in summer, Annabel stilled a moment, trying to recover an ordinary heart rate. Clearing her throat to muster up as much courage as possible, and not sound like she was about to piss her pants in terror, she called.

"I-I'd like some baking soda, if you wouldn't mind, sir! I live near this river back home, a-and I always was told that if you mix soap and baking soda, and w-wash with it, it gets rid of the skunk smell instantly! A-and I was just wondering if I could use a little, sir!"

Man, she didn't even attach 'sir' or 'm'am' back home; good god, though, Chef? Chef was absolutely terrifying, in ways Poe couldn't even imagine. God, she pitied the camper that pissed this man off.

And who's decision was it to let this man around knives and teenagers?!

Well, ********, never mind that. Ducking back again, ears pinned back and outright terrified, Annabel was silent a moment. Then, deciding not to be a totally annoying prat, she stepped forward slightly once more.

"T-thank you for the help! Sorry to bother you, sir!" And with that, she skittered off, rounding the corner toward the aforementioned tomato soup bath. Honestly, at this point, the thing looked horrible, and smelled just as bad- but, what worked... worked. Shuddering as she snuck behind the privacy curtain, Annabel entered- Simon's shirt still on, in an attempt to get rid of the smell, and simply soaked in the festering juices.

...This had to be worse than any challenge; UGH. It was just horrible...! And now her ankle would probably need re-bandaging, too..