ArchivedLogs:Breakfast Wars
| Breakfast Wars | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-09-03 readying the house for jax&micah returnings |
| Location
<NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village | |
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within.
Tag closes the door to Spencer’s room behind him gently and picks his way out into the disaster area, wincing every third step or so. His oversized white t-shirt and black cargo shorts are almost completely covered with splashes of garish color--some of which look like paint and others do not. So, too, are his hands and forearms; several of his fingers sport cartoon character band-aids. He sucks in a breath and runs a hand through his hair--lavender, with neon blue /polka dots/, of all things. Then, starting right where he stands, he starts picking things up one at a time and piling them into the crook of one arm, an operation that looks both ridiculous and futile. There is no knock to forewarn of Tag’s impending invasion, just a thunk of keys in the lock before the front door opens. The twins look slightly exhausted, Sebastian (easily identifiable today in swishy pink-and-white poodle skirt and a cheerful yellow tank top embroidered with darker yellow butterflies) perhaps moreso than Shane (who is already dressed for /bed/ in black pajama pants, no shirt, his wide red collar buckled at his neck). “Nice hair. Blue’s a good colour on you.” Shane nods approvingly at the polka dots. “You think blue’s a good color on /every --” Sebastian sounds amused, though Shane cuts him off with: “Nah, some people can’t pull it off. You have to be --” He waves a hand towards Tag. “Hot.” Sebastian’s nose crinkles up, his smile quick but crooked. “S’Spence asleep?” He’s drifting into the room, already bending to start seeking out and gathering up dishes. “What’d you /do/ to yourself?” “Hopefully something fun.” Shane locks the door again behind them, also heading in to start picking up cushions to return them to the couch. Tag meeps and jumps as the twins step inside, which is an unfortunate thing to do in a LEGO minefield. He winces and picks up one foot, toes curled in tight. Hop, pause, cautious hop. “Hey guys! Um, yeah, he’s asleep. Or at least /pretending/ really well.” The level of skepticism he throws at this addendum suggests previous experience. Looking down, he notices that he has dropped half of the toys he’d collected. “You mean my hands? I uh...was chopping up fruit to make smoothies. But as it turns out I’m not great with knives, especially when I’m also not watching what I’m doing.” A discarded sock joins the pile of random things in his arm. “I /really/ meant to clean up earlier, but we just got distracted…” “Yeah, mmm, you kind of have to keep an eye on him for a /while/ or he’ll --” “-- probably be up at Dusk’s place as soon as your back is turned,” Sebastian finishes wryly for his brother. “Maybe you should’ve left the chopping to Spence. /He/ watches what he’s doing.” There’s a healthy dose of laughter in Shane’s voice as he watches Tag’s efforts. He continues straightening, tucking the cushions into place before picking up the blankets to shake them out and fold them. “We figured you might need a hand. With the cleaning. I mean, Pa’s --” “Going to be back late and we wanted to make sure that -- jesus fuck did you explode a lego /bomb/ in here?” Shane toes a couple of plastic pieces out of the way with a sudden scowl. “-- he came home and /slept/ instead of coming home and cleaning right away. He’s a /little/ obsessive about --” Sebastian gestures to the room at large, waving one empty bowl around with the motion. “Well, he doesn’t /have/ to sleep. Just so long as he doesn’t come back and start /working/ right away.” Tag snickers. “Man, my siblings were so damned boring when they were his age. I had to /trick/ them into having fun because they didn’t ever want to get into ‘trouble’.” He deposits the toys into a basket and fishes out the items of clothing mixed in with them. “I really appreciate the help, guys. It didn’t look all that bad until we blew up the Death Star. It was kind of an awesome Death Star--I mean, we didn’t have enough gray LEGOs, and I could have /made/ gray LEGOs, but it looked way cooler with /all the colors./ Wish I’d taken pictures.” He picks up one the papers on the coffee table and admires it for a moment before gathering it up with the others. Each one is almost completely covered with graphic stream-of-consciousness. Some paint had found a path through to the table surface itself. “Oh, hm...need some cleaner for this. Not even sure what /kind/ of cleaner to use, but I really don’t think this warrants industrial solvents. Honestly, just need to get the /stuff/ off, I can fix /stains/.” “What kind of paint did you use -- or I mean, what kind of -- when you --” Sebastian just /frowns/ at the table in some confusion. “-- probably Pa’s room has -- things. That you can use.” He heads over to deposit the dishes in the sink, teeth scraping against his lip as he considers. “We don’t really /get/ in trouble,” Shane admits, “that might help with being fun. I mean, Pa gets /upset/ if we’re --” He shrugs. “-- getting arrested or anything. But it’s not like he -- /punshes/ us exactly.” Sebastian turns the water on, rising up onto his toes to peer out at the living room again, perhaps on a last search for more dishes, but then he just starts washing the ones he has gathered. “I’m sure you could just make a /new/ Death Star. Um --” Shane glances to Tag, and then to the bedroom door that /use/ to be the twins’. “Are you like. Living here forever now? Uh, sorry, we never really got all our stuff -- um --” “S’the nontoxic stuff--whatsitcalled...bunch of bottles in an old sidewalk chalk bucket?” Tag scrunches his face up. “It also might be all over the walls in the bathroom, but tile is easy to clean. Using /real/ paint is so weird, after so long! But fun, too.” He kneels down beside the coffee table and searches under it, coming up with several handfuls of LEGOs. “In addition to being, you know, /not evil/, Jax is about fifty thousand times more laid back than my dad. Though…” He starts to straighten up and knocks his head on the corner of the table. “Aiiiee…” His hair fluctuates to pink, then back into a slightly different shade of light purple. “Um, I think I’m proof that there is such a thing as being /too/ laid-back in terms of child care.” This with a glance around the living room as he sits back on his heels. Tag finds a discarded cracker box on the floor and sweeps the gathered LEGO pieces into it, then he looks up at Shane, lilac-and-blue hair hanging across half of his face like a silk curtain. “I dunno. My dad...no one’s really seen or heard from him for almost two weeks, but he’s got /people/, and I don’t know how much /they/ know. My sister is crashing with a classmate of hers for now. It’s /probably/ safe for me to move back in with Mel? It’s just...I couldn’t even afford rent /before/ all this happened.” There is no guilt in his eyes or in his voice. “So I’m kinda in /limbo/, I guess. I really appreciate that people care enough to keep bailing me out, but that’s not really fair to my friends, you know?” “Or you could just leave it in the bathroom. Make it brighter in there,” Sebastian suggests cheerfully, “I don’t think Pa’s ever complained about /more/ color.” Shane grimaces as Tag knocks his head on the table, moving over to take the cracker-box of legos from him. “It might help if you could see.” His mouth twitches slightly as he lifts his hand, brushing some of Tag’s curtain of hair back from his face. “It’s probably safe/r/ here. I mean, would /you/ want to mess with someone on Hive’s watch?” Sebastian’s eyes turn up towards the ceiling. Shane’s turn towards Jax’s bedroom, briefly. “Or Pa’s. -- Get a job, then. Pay rent. Uh. Though we might --” “/Our/ lease is only through October,” Sebastian points out apologetically, “Cuz school --” “Pfft, it’s not like we’re /here/ anyway during the school week. Just on weekends.” Shane shrugs. “So weekends’ll be a little crowded who cares.” His teeth flash in a bright grin. “I mean, you don’t have to move or anything,” he tells Tag, “/I/ sure wouldn’t kick you out of my bed.” “Hm...it does look pretty cool.” Tag tilts his head and closes one eye, the other tracking in the general direction of the bathroom he cannot actually see. “But the paint isn’t all that waterproof, so might kind of slowly dissolve and run down the wall as steam gets on it and holy frak actually that would look /so cool!/ Yeah, leave it. The table, though, probably not so much.” This with an embarrassed grin at the lines of paint that seeped in between the newsprint tablecloth. “I’m gonna just try water and that orange cleaner first.” Tag’s hair, heavy and glossy as it is, mostly falls right back over his face again the moment he moves. “Seeing /is/ one of my favorite hobbies. Should cut my hair. Or it might be long enough to tie back now.” He trots into the kitchen and returns with a spray bottle and an old washcloth. “I...man, I really /have/ enjoyed staying here, but it’s definitely up to Jax n’ Micah. They are so nice, though, I dunno if I can rely on them to...I mean, I pretty much cannot imagine them sending me away if asked to stay. So that makes it seem kind of wrong to even ask, you know?” His face flushes bright red--the way faces usually do, not the way things around him tend to. “Uh, I...don’t really sleep in /beds/ very often, anyway, it’s usually other people’s couches, or floors, or sleeping bags, and…thanks, though. I really ought to pull myself together. More.” Spritz spritz spritz. The paints on the table begin to flow together just from the force of the spraying. When Tag runs the cloth over it, the whole mess briefly turns into a massive spiral of colors. Eventually, with another round of cleaner and scrubbing, it comes clean. “That’s okay,” Shane answers promptly, “/I/ don’t /sleep/ in beds often, either. But they’re still pretty useful for --” “-- Of course they wouldn’t send you away,” Sebastian cuts in with a shake of his head. “So stay. But I mean, if you /get/ a job it’s not like staying’d really be -- /bad/. I think they like /having/ you here.” “Pa definitely likes having you here.” Shane’s smile is still bright. He drops down to his knees to dig around under the couch for spare legos. “Though he’d probably like it better if it was /his/ bed --” “That is /not/ why he -- “ Sebastian’s face scrunches up, cheeks flushing slightly darker. “... Pulling yourself together’d be a good thing whether you were here or /not/, though.” “I’m working on getting a job--or, more jobs, I guess. I have a few applications out, and an interview next monday.” Tag shrugs. “Random commissions really aren’t enough for rent, though it’s better than nothing. I’ve been just /buying/ food ‘cuz they wouldn’t accept any money from me for groceries.” He leaves the spray bottle out and rinses the washcloth in the kitchen sink. After wringing it dry, he snaps it open returns it to solid sky blue, no paint stains to be seen. Tag returns the living room to hunt for things he can spray and wipe down. “I know they /like/ me, but liking someone doesn’t mean you want them to crash at your house permanently, especially when they have a bad record for staying employed…” Looking from Bastian to Shane and back, he snickers, then laughs aloud. “No, I think that’s mostly ‘cuz Hive just sorta /deposited/ me here. It’s kind of hard to say ‘no’ to him, I’ve noticed. Anyway, pulling myself together is like a long-term project. I hope!” “Yeah, we like to try intercepting the mail,” Shane advises, amused. “Grab the bills before he notices. It’s easy, really, he’s always got /so/ much on his plate he’s not going to pay attention to missing his third late notice.” Sebastian sounds more weary about this than amused, but there’s a faint smile on his face anyway. “Alright. Fine. So you’re here because Hive dumped you here I mean, come /on/, who /wouldn’t/ like Hive ordering them around?” One of Shane’s fingers tugs absently at his collar. “Dude can give /me/ orders any time --” Sebastian raises his hand. “Iiiii’ll pass on the Hive-dom, thanks.” “-- but the /point/ is Hive or no Hive you’re not. Even just here because he likes you, dude,” Shane informs Tag with exaggerated /patience/. “You’re here because he /loves/ you.” Sebastian offers this clarification a little more quietly, turning his attention back to his dishes. “-- and would totally bone the /shit/ out of --” “-- but that’s not /why/,” Sebastian is /so quick/ to emphasize. “Where’s your interview?” Tag’s hand pauses in the act of scrubbing a stray paint splatter from the wall. He glances over his shoulder at Sebastian, though the gesture seems almost pointless as his hair obscures his eyes almost completely at that angle. “I know--that he loves me. I love him, too. And,” he adds with a barely visible roll of his eyes, “I am pretty damned sure he’s not helping me because he wants to /have sex/ with me.” He examines the spot he has been cleaning a bit more minutely than is probably necessary. The faint watermark stain vanishes under his scrutiny. “Starbucks--that’s where I’m interviewing. Kind of sad, I guess, but it’s /something./” “No, sorry, those were two separate thoughts, really. He’d be helping you /anyway/. He /also/, unrelatedly, thinks you are hot as fucking -- well, I mean, you /are/.” Shane sits up, scouring the living room for further legos but eventually just tucking the cracker box of blocks into the larger toybox. His shoulder hitches up in a shrug. “I dunno, I’m washing /dishes/ at Montagues I can’t really knock coffeeshop work.” “Thanks, but I think you might be /projecting/ a little.” Tag ducks his head, using hair curtain to good effect now. It is possible to glimpse a smile through the hair. Jax is a really affectionate kinda person, but that doesn’t mean he wants to /do/ everyone he’s affectionate...at? With? English is hard.” He moves on the next paint splatter. “Oh, I’m not knocking coffeehouses! Just...giant chains with no character, I guess? I mean, when’s the last time you saw a /cool looking/ Starbucks? Also, their tea sucks.” He straightens up and heaves a long sigh. “It’s just most locally owned places can’t really afford to hire new people right now.” “Wait, hold on.” Shane tips his head up, watching Tag with curiosity. “I mean, /okay/, yeah I’d do /either/ of you but uh. I’m not /projecting/ are you -- seriously that oblivious?” He sounds a little puzzled, and looks to Sebastian now for confirmation. Sebastian blushes darker, his gills fluttering against his neck. “Um --” His head ducks, his nose crinkling up awkwardly. “Shane’s -- a little -- /blunt/ but I don’t, um. Think that he’s -- /projecting/ I mean you’re -- a /really/ attractive guy and Pa -- I mean he /definitely/ -- really -- likes -- you. Not that that means -- oh gosh I mean I hope you don’t think that --” His hand scrubs against his face, leaving a few damp dish-soap suds against his cheek. “There, see? Even B says he wants to fuck you. And B /definitely/ doesn’t want to bone either of you so.” Shane spreads his hands in front of himself. “-- I mean seriously did you not -- /notice/ that? Like for real? I didn’t think I was dropping any big /revelation/ here.” Tag pulls at the corners of the washcloth and chews on his lower lip. “Well, I /thought/ he was attracted to me at first, but then when I got to know him better I thought he was just...like that with everyone? OK, not /everyone,/ but you know. I don’t like to make assumptions, and also...I mean, I am not really ‘lover’ material for most people.” He frowns. “Not that Jax is /most people/ in pretty much any way at all. But uh...oh, man, this never gets any easier to say.” Tag drops down onto the couch, then shifts and digs a marker out from between the cushions. “It’s just that I have /girl parts/. And he’s into guys. Not that you can’t be into guys /regardless/ of parts, but usually...well, it’s not exactly like something I can just.” He throws up his hands, washcloth flailing. “Like go to people and say, ‘Hey, I’m pretty into you and I’m trans, wanna have sex?’” He snickers. “Thought life might be easier if I did. But I don’t, and I have no idea why I just told you all that.” “Not lover material, the fuck does that even mean, if someone loves you then I think by definition you’re kinda --” But Shane breaks off short at the rest of Tag’s speech, rocking back with a thump to sit down on the floor. For a moment the twins are silent. Sebastian’s eyes widen, his blush deepening his skin near to purple. His eyes meet his brother’s, and then he looks to Tag. “You’re -- wait, /really/? But you don’t -- oh gosh sorry that’s a dumb thing to --” His hand claps to his mouth, gills fluttering again. “Yeahno I just had no fucking idea -- wait, /he/ doesn’t know either does -- he.” Shane’s brows tick upwards for a moment. His head tips slightly to one side, eyes skimming over Tag long and thoughtful. “He /does/ kind of love the co --” “/Shane/ that’s not --” Sebastian’s eyes scrunch shut. “I mean, Pa has lots of -- I can’t imagine he’d --” He frowns. “-- not still love you,” Shane finishes, though he still mostly looks pensive. “... you could ask him,” he finally says, “I mean there’s not really going to be much of any other way to tell besides. You know. Hey. I have girl parts, do you still want to --” “... not that,” Sebastian cuts in quickly, “we’re assuming /you/ even wanted to, um. In the first place. I mean. It’s all kind of /irrelevant/ if you don’t -- it’s not like what parts you have are anyone’s /business/ if they’re not, um. Inter… acting. With. Them.” Shane just looks puzzled at this clarification. “Who wouldn’t want to do Pa? Have you /seen/ him?” Sebastian’s palm rubs against his face. /Wearily/. “See, that’s exactly it.” Tag snaps his fingers. “I /don’t/ look trans, and it’s not really anyone’s business usually, and I used to be super terrified ever being found out. Not anymore. Not since...um, ‘rehab.’” His fingers bracket the word with quotation marks. “No, he doesn’t know, and I /do/ um.../like/ him. It just hasn’t been a /priority/ lately. There’s a whole lot going on that’s more important! Maybe someday, I’ll...I dunno, it’s hard to do. But I can’t just pretend it’s not a /thing/ anymore. Don’t worry, though.” He smiles faintly, then bounces back up onto his feet, rocking forward onto his toes as if searching the living room for more things to clean. “I’ll deal with it. Kinduva part of pulling myself together, right?” “See, he wants Pa, too.” Shane sounds so /vindicated/, here. “So here when he gets home tonight just ask him. I bet he’d be so /thrilled/ if --” “He’d say no,” Sebastian interrupts, with a shake of his head. “What, no, he /totally/ wants -- oh.” Shane frowns, looking from Tag to the closed bedroom doors. “Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh, “he’d say no. For now. S’bullshit, though, just so you know -- not saying no, uh, saying that it’s not -- a priority, it’s like --” His fingers snap again, and he gets to his feet, too. This time to head off and grab a broom. “Like fucking /game night/.” Sebastian’s lips quirk. “-- yeah. It kind of -- I mean, not that /sex/ is -- the /most/ important but just -- everything being hectic and crazy? Is kind of -- /more/ reason to hold on to --” “Relaxing. Fun. /Enjoying/ each other. When you /can/. Because the rest of the time people are fucking shooting at you and trying to blow you up and locking you up against your will and fucking with your gorram head and --” Shane shrugs a shoulder. “And if you don’t take the chances for /good/ things in the middle of all that you eventually kinda just want to give -- up,” Sebastian’s nose wrinkles. “On fighting against the bad ones.” Shane clicks his teeth together, eyes turning upwards towards the ceiling as though he could see through it to Geekhaus above them. “Yeah.” “I mean, duh--have you /seen/ him? Now, /game night/ is not to be trifled with!” Tag rinses the washcloth out again and hangs it up to dry. “Sex is optional, geeking out is not. Art, either.” He digs around in a cabinet and comes out with the glass cleaner and a dry washcloth. “I think...giving up isn’t /really/ an option. OK, it is, but it’s not a /good/ one. I tried it, and it didn’t work.” Spritz spritz spritz on the window, and a faint squeak as he wipes it down. “I’m not going to try that again anytime soon! But I’m not going to go and /seduce/ anyone, either--anytime soon.” “He doesn’t even /like/ game night, dude.” Shane snorts, quietly, at this answer. “He goes --” “... to see you,” Sebastian confirms. “Before you started coming he’d mostly just drop off cookies and leave. Maybe eat dinner if he /really/ felt like taking a break from work. Hive kind of --” “-- bribed him into showing up and staying regularly by telling him you’d be there.” Shane starts sweeping, at one end of the room, muscles tensing faintly at the whisking sound of the broom against the floor. “I don’t think he’d need seducing, he’s wanted you since he met you.” “I just am not sure he’d -- I think he’d /worry/ if you asked him right /now/. Since you never did /before/ you were kind of um -- depending on him for a place to live, sort of. I feel like he’d probably just worry you felt -- obligated or something. If you asked him /now/.” “Yeah. He -- would worry.” Shane nudges a beanbag chair out of the way and continues his sweeping. “... giving up is always an option,” he adds, quieter. “Not just for you. I think /everyone/ around here’s kind of -- really /needed/ the regular reminders of --” “-- why it’s worth /not/ giving up. I mean. People act like giving up is this drastic choice to make? But I think when you live like everyone here does it’s --” Sebastian frowns. “It’s kind of the default. You don’t choose to give up. Every /morning/ you choose to keep /going/ and /that’s/ the hard choice. Especially when it’s just -- all terrible all the time and you don’t take time to --” Shane waves the broom in Tag’s direction. “Actually love the people you, uh, love.” Tag twists around to look at the twins, one purple eyebrow arched skeptically at the claim that Jax--or /anyone/, probably--could be blase about game night. “I gotta take your word on that, obviously you know him better, but.../game night/.” Spritz spritz, squeak squeak. “But yeah, I can believe he would be worried, I mean...he kind of worries about /everything/. Micah, too, somewhat.” He smiles an odd, crooked smile to himself, though his reflection in the glass makes it visible to anyone who is looking. “Maybe you’re right about giving up, too. I thought it was just the /drugs/--in my case, anyhow. You guys are pretty wise, you know?” “They worry a lot,” Shane agrees. “About everyone. So we --” This time his broom gestures towards his brother. “Worry about /them/. Since someone’s gotta take care of that part, too.” Sebastian sets the last of the dishes on the drying rack, wiping his hands against his skirt. He gets out a cloth, too, and a spray bottle of cleaner, turning his attention to wiping down the kitchen counters. “Iiii don’t think we’re wise I think we just --” Shane hesitates, stopping uncertainly. “Don’t want to see everyone giving up.” Sebastian scrubs at the counter hard, though it’s fairly unnecessary to do any more than wipe it. “And I’ve been getting the feeling people are more and more leaning towards it, lately.” Shane’s smile has faded entirely; his attention is seemingly rather /focused/ downward on his careful sweeping. “But they don’t think about it so much when they remember -- being happy.” Tag finishes cleaning the window and lingers in front of it for a moment, staring out at the darkness. “Guess it depends on how you define /wise/?” He shrugs, and rinses out the washcloth. “Hope is pretty important, /love/ is pretty important. I’ve never had a good handle on how to express it, except with art. Just pour my heart out at the wall and move on, right? I’m learning how to do what you already do. Be present, love the people you love. So yeah, I think that’s wise.” He puts the glass cleaner away and hangs the second washcloth beside the first. “Also tough. My answer was always just run away, but that’s just another way of giving up, really. So, yeah. I look for joy in life where I can find it. Even if it’s just paint on the wall, or a board game, or a decent nap.” He yawns. “Which would be awfully nice, eventually…” “Art’s a pretty good way.” Sebastian moves from kitchen counters to kitchen table. “-- Napping, too.” This has a little bit more amusement to it. “Go to bed, dude. There’s not much more cleaning to finish in here. And you’ve had a day full of /Spencer/ you must be fucking beat.” Shane makes little shooing motions with his brush. WHISKING Tag towards the bedroom. “And Pa’ll be back tonight so /probably/ you’ll wake up tomorrow to /delicious breakfast/ smells.” Sebastian cheers still further with this. “Though I’m planning to wake up at /four/ just so I can beat him to cooking breakfast. Motherfucker shouldn’t have to be cooking after all that travel but you /know/ he will anyway.” Shane preemptively scowls at Jax’s door. “Go to bed, Tag. Do you like waffles? We’ll make waffles.” Sebastian has no broom. He makes shooing motion with his hand. “I am twelve kinds of beat, but first I gotta mop the kitchen. You do not even wanna know how much stuff got spilled.” Tag picks up his foot gingerly as if expecting it to /stick/ to the floor, then fetches a mop. “I love waffles, but man, pre-emptive breakfast making is serious stuff.” He roots around the cleaning supplies cabinet and ends up getting out the orange cleaner again and just spraying it on the floor before putting the mop to it. “You keep escalating and before you know it someone’s making flapjacks at /midnight/ in stealth gear. Consider yourself warned!” Then, pausing only a beat. “So what you do is make the /batter/ ahead of time and /hide/ it…” “Fuck bombing Syria, I feel like /this/ is the kind of war I could get behind. Camping out with crepe better.” Shane’s teeth flash, his smile bright. “Rappelling down the side of the building with potatoes strapped to your back. Why haven’t we had this war /already/.” Sebastian returns to the sink to rinse out his cloth, squeezing it out and draping it over the edge of the sink to dry. “-- Because c’mon do you really want to /encourage/ Pa, he’d take this to a whole new level.” Sebastian’s nose crinkles. “Forcefield everyone out of their kitchens while he barricades himself in with a steadily growing pile of pancakes. He /would/, wouldn’t he.” Tag snerks and leans into the mop when he reaches the area right in front of the stove. “You can always stage in /other/ kitchens, then sneak the food in. Besides, you know Jax can’t keep the food to himself, he has to come out to /feed people/.” He spritzes that patch of floor again and goes back over it. “You know, why don’t we just make breakfast /now/? Ambush them!” Scrub scrub scrub. “I guess waffles don’t keep so well, though…” “Waffle /batter/ keeps just fine, at least from tonight until the morning. I think Tag’s got the right idea.” Sebastian flits out of the kitchen, skirting around the parts Tag has already mopped so that he can get to the rest of the floor. “/Plus/ if we do it now we can get to all the cleanup now, /too/. And then he won’t even have the /chance/ to snag the dishes out from under us.” Shane finishes sweeping, getting a dustpan to collect the debris in. “I should feel worse about instigating the first skirmishes of this war but. I think in the breakfast war, really, /everyone/ wins.” “Fantastic! I’ll help you if you teach me how to make vegan waffles. ‘Cuz...actually, I don’t know how to make waffles, period. Never had an iron. Flapjacks, sure, but /waffles/ are so much more fun there’s all those spaces you can fill with things.” Tag mops the rest of the kitchen floor with somewhat less care than the spots he had evidently designated for targeted strikes. “Nah, don’t feel bad. All is fair in the breakfast war.” | |
