maskormenacelogs | Where do you go when the day is long

Current Mood: drained
Current Location: Heropa 001
Current Music: Gloomy Sunday by Billie Holiday

Entry tags:

Where do you go when the day is long

WHO: Brendan Frye, Tara Markov, Archie "Archovies" Broceidon and possibly Hunk???
WHERE: Heropa 001's kitchen
WHEN: Wednesday, 17th of May
WHAT: Making pie as a silent apology for drinking Archie's booze and talking
WARNINGS: References to underage alcohol consumption. Warnings to be added as needed.

There's a jazz station in Heropa, or more accurately two hours of jazz on one radio station, and Brendan has it turned on to fill the void in his head as he moves through the kitchen. Fending for himself isn't hard. He tired of pre-made pre-bought stuff early on in life and started making his own food when he was nine; many burnt foods and fire alarms later, he's not half-bad at it. Specifically, though, he makes a fantastic blueberry pie, which is what he's got in the oven now as he leans against the fridge, too warm in his jacket but unable to take it off when it's the one good, solid reminder of home he has.

Though it's a school day, he slept clear through to noon and then spent a while in bed staring at the ceiling. Archie had said something about making excuses for him at school, though whether that applied to yesterday or today too wasn't something Brendan knew; staring at the oven timer and letting his mind drift along with the music, he's not sure he cares. They're going to hold him back a year since he arrived in May when it was January's end in his world; he's not dumb, but he can't make up that difference, so what does school matter, anyway?

The whole house smells like baked goods - he did a test run of muffins earlier to make sure the oven didn't have quirks - and the melancholy crooning of Billie Holiday's Gloomy Sunday floats through the air, beautiful and bittersweet as anything ever was. Brendan perches atop the table and does his best not to think.

He may not be physically hungover, but mentally, he still needs a good two or three years to sleep it off.

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Tara is. Uncomfortable, to say the least, returning to the same place twice. But even she had her regular haunts back before--before here, before the Titans. Before everything. And besides, she has the cactus to check on.

Yeah. She gave the cactus its own room at Archie's, because why the fuck not? It deserves it more than she does, anyway.

She jams the key into Archie's door, jiggling it a little bit before it actually works. She really isn't used to using keys, like, ever. Tara sticks it back into her pocket, psyching herself up. It'll just be a quick fridge raid, and she'll play with the pets. Then, she'll leave, maybe stop by Maurtia City. It seems like Gotham, so it's probably her speed. She shifts her weight, swinging her backpack back over her right shoulder, before opening the door.

"Yo. Archie?"

She pauses, waiting for a response.

Edited (html more like htm hell) 2017-05-19 02:12 (UTC)

Brendan hears the door rattle, but pauses and squints instead of going to open it. If it's a break-in, it's a shitty one; if not, then it's gotta be someone that Archie knows, maybe the mysterious third housemate Brendan hasn't met yet. He's reluctant to leave his semi-comfortable lack-of-silence in the kitchen to go answer the door anyway, given how he's still a little sleepy.

That voice is definitely not the possibly-not-real third housemate of legend. The housemate is a guy, that's definitely a girl's voice. He checks the timer on the pie again before approaching.

For a moment her appearance blindsides him; her hair catches the light and she's like Emily, but thinner, alive, minus some mascara, the way Em looked when they were freshman. It slams the breath out of him, and his ability to be smooth or nonchalant falters. A bit awkwardly, he adjusts his glasses. "Uh, hey. M' Archie's new next-room-over neighbor. He give you a key?"

Someone is bustling around in the kitchen, but it isn't Archie. Archie is loud and bumbling, jovial at the worst of times. He would have shouted, and offered her some of whatever that awesome smell is. Pie? Fuck, she misses pie.

Anyway. The fact that she's fairly certain that it isn't Archie sets her on edge, and she backs towards the door. Tara puts one gloved hand on the doorknob behind her, in case she has to bolt. Her eyes are wide, alert, and she's biting her lip. She jumps when Brendan emerges, and something about the way he stares at her is weird.

"Yeah. I was just gonna be in and out. Sorry."

She doesn't volunteer any personal information, and she doesn't move from the door. She isn't sure that she can show her back to this guy, yet, doesn't know what powers he might have. He's an unknown; a wild card. And she's been trained to be cautious.

Even though she's assessing him rationally, like any adult would assess a threat (right?), she looks to be every inch a child. Her front teeth are slightly crooked--not bad enough to be overly notable, but enough that an American dentist certainly would have attempted to get her in braces. The bridge of her nose and cheeks are dotted with freckles, and she's tanned, as though she's spent quite a bit of time in the sun.

"My cactus lives here," she adds, as though that's meant to be helpful.

He knows that jumpiness. He's seen it in more people than he'd like, including Emily, which just makes it weirder; so he puts his hands in his pockets and looks back towards the kitchen as if he needs to check the timer even though he doesn't. It takes the cactus remark for it to all click together.

"Oh, you're... Tara, right? Archie mentioned you swing by sometimes. No need t' apologize; if he vouches for you, you're probably on the level. You want some muffins for the road, if you're not staying? I made some. Got a pie in the oven. Archie's a great guy but there's not nearly enough sweet stuff here."

Brendan at least looks at her when he makes the offer. Her tan, her freckles, the differences between her and who he knew set him at ease, even the little things like her teeth. She's not Emily, she's Tara, and he can deal with that. Really.

Leaving the invitation open, he leans against the nearest wall, trying to make himself a bit smaller, a bit less threatening, idly adjusting his glasses. If she bolts, she bolts. If she doesn't, she doesn't. He's not going to press for either; Archie mentioned she had power over rocks and he really doesn't want to get smacked with that, but moreover, Archie said she was good, which is the best endorsement somebody here can get. Archie's got above-average morals and Brendan mostly trusts his judgment, at least on stuff like this.

"The music bothering you? I can turn it off if you're hangin' around. Jazz isn't everybody's cup of tea, I just got a taste for it, personally."

And it is helpful. Archie's told this guy her name, and annoyance courses through her for just a moment. But Archie is--well, a normal guy. Or, pretty normal. He reminds her of a C-Tier supervillain, in a way; not even as dangerous as Doctor Light. Just a guy with good intentions, bad ideas, and a shitty gimmick.

"Nah. I don't really care."

This guy talks oddly, and she can't quite place why. But it's not like any English she's used to, and that, too, throws her off just a bit. She grabs her key, does her best to slide it subtly between her knuckles while seeming as though she's looking for something in her bag. Just in case.

She crosses the room and disappears towards the area with the bedrooms, heading towards an empty one that only houses a small cactus, and a paper with some water damage announcing its name as Charley Jr. After some time, she pokes her head into the kitchen, eyeing the fridge just a little bit. She offers a smile, even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Whatcha making?"

Edited (whats a literacy) 2017-05-19 18:27 (UTC)

"Cool." He shrugs, not commenting on the keys. Back home he'd seen girls do it around thugs and at parties where there was booze going around. He can't say he doesn't see where she'd be nervous about him. Trusting nobody was a smart policy, even if around here she's the first person he's seen who knows that.

Brendan goes back to the kitchen when she goes into the bedroom; he's not here to trail here and her life's her own. Besides, she's not going to steal his stuff - he doesn't have anything to steal. And Archie's got a new lock on his door so that's that. The music changes over to another song by the time she pokes her head in and he's idly stirring a makeshift sugar glaze for the muffins. If asked, he'd bullshit and say he just came up with it, but the reality is he's actually working off of recipes he stole. Accidentally, mind you, but thankfully the Coffee And Pie, Oh My! cafe was another world away so he'd never get called on it. Tapping his foot to the music idly, he glances over at Tara and forces a smile of his own, although it's got a hint of something genuine in it. She's a tiny thing, cautious, and there's something endearing about that, something that makes him want to try and put her at ease.

"Blueberry pie. Plus banana-nut muffins, but those are already made, just addin' sugar to the top of 'em." Because there is no such thing as too much sugar. Ever.

Here comes the man of the hour! Mightyena comes in before Archie does, pressing itself up against Tara and boofs happily. Archie wanders in a few moments later, wearing only pants. There's a big bandage around one of his biceps with some red leaking through, which he's apparently ignoring. He rubs one of his eyes with the ball of his hand, groans, then runs his hand through his mop of hair, bringing it down to rest on his bruised nose. It's too early to take in information, but he waves at the two then flops down into a chair at the table.

"Ay, be a mate and make me a coffee, Brendan, would ya?" he asks, leaning his head back against the wall.

He has questions, but waking up comes first.

Edited (i had to edit in another injury from another thread unbelievable ) 2017-05-21 17:41 (UTC)

Brendan glances at Mightyena, who is surprisingly cute for a dog he knows can make chains out of thin air. But Mightyena has decided Tara gets the honor of snuggles today so, with a slight shrug to himself, he lets Tara pet the fluffy evil-looking dog. He's got food to handle, so dog hair isn't really something he wants to deal with at the moment.

Then Archie comes in. Brendan takes one look at him, snorts, and deadpans, "And here you had me convinced you were halfway responsible. Lovin' the look, though. You don't look a day over 40 with your hair like that." Troll Brendan is not a mean Brendan, though, as he gets out the coffee. He doesn't drink the stuff himself - just never got the taste for it - but he knows to some people coffee is less a drink and more a religion. "Tara, you drink coffee?"

Yeah, it's not technically a teenager drink, but nothing else here is normal, he might as well ask.

Tara doesn't reply right away, choosing to head over to the muffins that are already finished and glance them over. She doesn't slip the key from her hand until Mightyena comes in, and she bends down to give it a hug immediately. She obviously knows the dog; she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and moves to press the side of her face against its snout.

She jumps when Archie walks in, glancing over and nodding back. When she catches sight of him over Mightyena's tufts of fur, she blanches.

"Dude. Put a shirt on,"

Adults are so gross.

"Uh. Coffee? Sure."

No one would poison her with Archie there, right?

"To be fair to Archie, all his shirts are pretty awful," Brendan points out with what, in his world, passes as diplomacy. "If you're not big on coffee you don't have to have any. It's an acquired taste. Just figured it'd've been rude not to ask." He can see that hesitance, and he doesn't want to push it with her. He will leave her all the choices he can, because she seems like she needs them.

"What we really need is hot cocoa. Nectar of the gods, there." He's dead serious too, it's his favorite chaser for alcohol. But he didn't feel like making an early morning trek to the store for it. "D'you like your coffee any particular way? Pretty sure we only got one kind of creamer and sugar. Not that I know how to make fancy coffees anyway, just seemed proper to ask."

Archie stays leaning back against the wall, hand on his nose and flips them off with his free hand.

"Butterfly ate part of my arm, can't get a shirt on right now. Hot choc can wait until it's not... whatever time it is," He says, still not looking at them.

"Strong. You two meetin' for the first time? Good job on not killin' each other."

"I don't kill people, an' I don't fight girls unless they throw the first punch," Brendan objects, flaring slightly. He has to amend after a moment, "Or if they've got a gun, but then it's usually best to just bail entirely. That fight's not worth it. Besides, Tara's chill." Well, no, that is a total lie. She is the opposite of chill but she's not confrontational towards him and at this point he's willing to lower his standards so that qualifies as chill.

"And there is never a bad time for hot chocolate. 'Specially if it's not marshmallows." He turns to Tara. "Back me up here: marshmallows are A-grade awesome, Archie is suffering impaired judgment from bloodloss."

"A butterfly did that?" Tara feels slightly defensive. She likes butterflies, recent events aside. After glancing back at Brendan, she shrugs.

"Yeah, it's good. But I'll take pretty much anything. Coffee, milk, sugar, without either, whatever."

After she's determined that the threat level is low enough with Archie around, she heads to the fridge. Because Archie has a disgusting amount of health food, she settles on a bag of baby carrots and goes about consuming all of them.

Smooth, Tara.

"One'a the big ones," Archie offers, not wanting to seem a wimp.

He has no objections to Tara eating healthy.

"I'll need one of ya to help me change this bandage soon, so flip a coin."

"I got bit by one of those. I have a healing factor, though, and it just grazed me more than anything." Brendan shrugs, having decided that he's not going to think too hard about the whole incredibly stupid incident.

He does, however, roll his eyes as he makes the coffee. "I've got two arms an' I got stuff baking plus your liquid god brewing, you're either gonna have to wait or let Tara do it."

"I can do it," Tara says, nuzzling Mightyena one last time before getting up and heading over to Archie. She's fairly used to taking care of wounds; when she was with the Titans, Cyborg had taught her some stuff in the infirmary. The memory makes her feel nauseous. She leans forward, and her hair covers the right half of her face.

"What do you need?

He rips the bandage off with a grunt, splattering a bit of blood onto the table. Real hygienic, idiot. It's not a bad wound, really, just a bit deep.

"Gimme some more tape and wrap, top drawer. Shelly told me everything I need to stock up if she's ever not around. And Matt. We're kinda stupid!" he says with a laugh.

"Hey, blood off the table. Keep your germs offa my kitchen," Brendan half-sighs, half says. He moves the muffins further away as if to emphasize the point. He's had worse things in his food, he just objects on the principle he'd like to at least look a bit less stupid than that.

The smell hits Hunk like a brick wall when he opens the door to the house, and it's awesome. There's instantly a slight mystery involved in the origin, of course. He's not sure Archie can be trusted with the oven and... Well, there are two new people, right? Maybe the mystery isn't so complex, after all. Anyway, how blueberry-based baked goods came about isn't really an issue. Whether he can get ahold of a share... That's what's really up.

He's already smiling widely as he steps into the house and shuts the door behind him, shrugging his bag off of his shoulder on his way towards the kitchen. We he reaches the periphery of the room, he sets it aside and lifts his hand in greeting.

"Hey, there. You must be one of the new roomies."

Brendan hears the door open and pauses momentarily, attention going from watching the oven to 'oh, Archie wasn't lying, there is in fact someone else living here'. He and Hunk have managed, somehow, not to run into each other despite being literally in the same house, and this, while not a bad first impression to make, is a little bit weird.

Then again, weird is this place's normal, so he nods in greeting, eyes flickering back to the oven for a second. He hovers when he's baking, it's a thing.

"And you must be one of the old ones," he replies, putting his hands in his jacket pockets out of sheer force of habit. Hopefully it makes him look casual or something; he's never had the world's greatest social skills. "Hunk, right? Archie mentioned you. The muffins are ready if you want some, but the pie needs a couple of minutes still."

"Yep. That's me." Hunk's smile is wide and easy still, and it redoubles at the mention and offer of baked goods. "I'd love a muffin."

Not one who's overly concerned with personal space and boundaries, Hunk walks right into the kitchen and to the aforementioned muffins, bending over them with a decreeing eye before picking one up. He peels the paper back and takes a large bite. It gets a hearty "Mmm!" and, though it's hard to smile through a mouthful of muffin, his eyes crinkle up in delight. When he swallows, the grin's back. This guy's really into it!

"This is great, man! Roommate jackpot! I thought I was gonna be alone in this kitchen forever!"

"Someone who appreciates it when I cook? That's the weirdest thing I've seen since I got here, and I'm including the giant butterflies in that." He takes a step back out of instinct to give Hunk room to go for the muffins, but he's fine with him being in his personal space since the mood seems light enough, at the moment.

He doesn't quite smile, but there's an amused note in his voice when he adds, "I guess there's no need to ask if you'd mind taste-testing the pie when it's done, huh?"

He's moved on to the fridge by now, turning away from the door with a carton of milk in one hand and a spreadable butter tub in another. He sets them down on the nearest clear counter, where he's left his half-consumed muffin, while he nonviolently kicks the door shut. The question gets a cheery laugh.

"No way, man! I mean-- Yeah. No, I don't mind. Yes, I want pie." Just so he's clear. His expression shifts accordingly as he verbally stumbles. He's an expressive guy. He pops easily enough back into the chill zone, though, shrugging. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm an eater."

He's still pretty sure he's the only fat imPort, or at least one of very few, not that he has anything to complain about.

"I cook, too, so this is great. Nice to have somebody to talk shop with, you know?"

"Hey, the more people to eat this stuff, the better. Back home I just made stuff and left it out for my parents whenever they happened to swing by the house and it usually either ended up with me eating the same thing for a couple of weeks or things going moldy whenever I got overenthusiastic about baking."

He does manage a smile at Hunk's cheery personality. It's kind of nice, having someone express their every feeling so openly. Certainly not what he's used to living with, but not a bad thing, all in all.

But, that being said: "I'm nearly a hundred percent self-taught when it comes to making food, I might not be the greatest guy to go to for talking shop."

Wowza. Sad backstory alert. Hunk pauses in the middle of chewing, processing what he's being told and all the implications before he swallows. Unfortunately, he doesn't it think it through far enough to not immediately reply, "It's okay. A lot of what I learned, I got from my mom, but it's still mostly about self-expression and discovery, right?"

He pauses. Maybe he should've left him mom out of it. Maybe he should start down another road.

"Like, uh... I mean, I had to kinda start from scratch when I left Earth. Every planet's got different flora and fauna, everybody's got different techniques and ideas about food... I guess the important thing's the love of doing it, right? The technicalities aren't a big deal."

The sad thing is that it doesn't even register with Brendan that his parents and their lack of presence could be considered an unusual or sad thing. They're not around, but they're not bad or abusive or something, so it just doesn't even register that it's a sad thing. "I stole a pie recipe on accident once. Then I just sorta based all the other pies I know how to make on that."

Wait. Was it bad to admit to having stolen that? It made sense in context. Crap.

"You've visited other planets? Guess I'm gonna be the boring roomie, then, I've just lived in San Clemente back home."

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Where do you go when the day is long

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lemme just swooce on in

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after 12 years

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