savetheearth | Mission - Pancakes / Backdated to the morning of April 3rd

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Mission - Pancakes / Backdated to the morning of April 3rd

Who: Tony and anyone awake at Willow Ridge after the Kidnapping Incident
What: Demon be hungry, so that means pancakes for all.
Where: Willow Ridge kitchen
When: Morning of April 3rd, after Nathan's rescue
Warnings: Possibly some recollections of violence, but otherwise only pancakes. Maybe eggs. We'll see.

Dressed in jeans and a light T-shit, one could almost forget just the night before he'd been barely able to walk under his own power and bleeding all over himself. Quite the change, though watching closely it was still evident Tony was a little tender and sore. Moving stiff and careful while he cooked.

As it turned out, healing was hungry business. Fortunately Willow Ridge was equipped with a well enough stocked kitchen, and Tony with a little skill instilled by Hajime. Despite his best efforts, he still couldn't really use chopsticks with any kind of efficiency. Fortunately pancakes only required a spatula.

Stacks of them, in fact. The first attempts, under-cooked or over had already been eaten, but now he was on a roll. Why not ask him why he's cooked so much, or join in to help devour the abundance? Surely, he figured, the others would wake soon and they'd be hungry as well. Though likely Tony was far over-estimating their hunger by comparing it to his own.

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He blinks at her yell, and then quickly reaches out to grasp her hand.

"Denial. It happens to all of us," he says reassuringly. "We'll get through this together, and because we're friends I'll make sure that you don't fall off the wagon. I'll be your accountabili-buddy."

Misa stares at her hand, at Lazarus's face, and then back to their hands again. She sincerely cannot tell if he is making fun of her or not. Is he even capable of that level of social interaction?

Misa decides that she does not care, and reaches to smack him over the head. "Cut it out!"

His pale face and glassy, round eyes are frighteningly open and earnest. Given their perpetually doll-like quality, though, it's really hard for most people to see that under most circumstances.

He does flinch and withdraw drastically at the smack, snatching his hand back and almost toppling over in his chair with the force of the movement.

"What?" he asks, wide-eyed, rattled and tragically unaware.

His reaction would be comical if Misa wasn't so very annoyed with him.

"I already told you, I don't have a problem! I mean, I don't have a drinking problem, just a problem with getting involved with crazy people!"

Fuming, she glances awkwardly around the room. Is there anyone she hasn't offended yet? Not that any of them have room to talk, but still.

If anything, Lazarus' mind has been swiftly and effectively snatched back from moping about pancakes and his down-bodied ex boyfriend.

"Yeah, well... birds of a feather," is his stiff retort, followed by a slightly more dismayed and unhappy "...you hit me."

"You deserved it," she mutters, utterly unapologetic. With some effort she strives to take deep breaths and unclench her fists. There is a lot of stress boiling over in this room and she should probably try to stop directing it at the man letting her stay here rent-free. "Just, eat your stupid pancakes!"

With that she grabs his fork and knife, stabs a pancake, cuts a giant bite, and then attempts to shove it in his mouth.

" But I didn't..." he mumbles, trailing off, seeming to genuinely question whether or not he did deserve it. It's clearly a very troubling effort. His reaction to the stress everyone's feeling seems to be continuing to withdraw, making himself smaller, regarding her warily just in case she tries to lash out at him again completely unexpectedly.

Stabbing the pancake is just such a gesture. In seconds, his hands are on the plate and he's turning it sideways, the pancakes and syrup beginning to slide sluggishly toward the floor as he attempts to wedge the plate between his face and the fork that Misa's wielding.

"Hey, stop it! You're making a mess!"

Though she winces, her pounding headache isn't enough to keep her from yelling at him this time. "Put that down!"

"I don't want to stop it, you're trying to put something sharp and pointy in my face and you might have been drinking," he pleads, gripping the plate and letting syrup drip into his lap and onto Misa's feet.

"Put down the fork first!"

Edited 2015-04-17 01:51 (UTC)

Misa squeals as syrup drips between her toes, instinctively jumping to her feet though the damage has been done.

"Lazarus, gross!!" she whines, putting the fork on her plate and staring down at her sticky feet in dismay. Sure, she needed a shower anyway, but eww.

That squeal causes him to flinch again, and he slowly sets the plate aside when she's on her syrup-covered bare feet. At least the fork is out of her hand.

He bites his lip, apologetically reaching for his glass of water and tilting it slightly so as to dump its contents over Misa's toes.

"Don't-!"

Her objection comes too late and Misa shrieks as the cold water hits her feet, dancing in place and promptly slipping— she grabs onto her chair for balance just in time to avoid landing on the ground. As soon as she is stable she jerks her head up to look at Lazarus, half expecting some new assault to be aimed her way.

When none seems to be coming, she grabs what's left of her orange juice and sloshes it at his face. Two can play the food-fight game.

He winces as she slips; that was not his intention, but it looks like it would haev hurt if she'd actually fallen. Fortunately, she catches herself, and all is well in that regard. Before he can apologize or help her up, however, she's reaching for her orange juice and splashing it into his face.

He blinks the citrus away from his eyes, stunned and staring as bright yellow drips from his face and hair.

Misa stares right back at him, arm still raised with her now empty cup. An awkward silence descends over the kitchen now that things are no longer escalating. That was... maybe a little bit silly and childish... but he started it!

"Uhm..."

She doesn't have anything to follow that up with. A 'sorry' is maybe in order, but she isn't sorry so much as she is embarrassed about everything that has transpired over the past 10 minutes. Slowly, Misa puts the glass back on the table, obviously uncertain what to do with herself.

"We should... shower..."

It was incredibly silly and childish. He turns his head slowly toward her, face settled between something shocked and sour.

"Oh, so now you have no problem getting wet," he grumbles, reaching for a napkin and mopping the juice from his cheeks.

His expression shames Misa quite effectively, but not so much so that she is actually going to apologize.

"You should be happy for an excuse to shower again," she mutters under her breath. He does so seem to enjoy those.

He doesn't want or expect an apology, fortunately. Just to get clean.

"Ha ha. I could have gotten you a lot wetter, you know," he says, pointedly indicating the half-empty glass of water he'd only partly trickled onto her toes.

That prompts a threatening glance around the room as if daring anyone to comment on his phrasing.

"Or you could have used your brain and not gotten me sticky or wet in the first place!"

And over where he's been pretending to not notice any of this Tony lets out an extremely undignified snort-laugh and has to excuse himself before Misa kills him.

"It's your own fault, you were trying to put it in my mouth!" he insists, glancing up sharply at Tony's snort.

"Get back here, what's funny?" he demands.

Tony you are a dead man!! Misa communicates as much as she grabs one of the many, many leftover pancakes and chucks it at his head on the way out.

"Nothing, just stop talking!"

In an astounding display of reflexes and an unwillingness to allow food to go to waste he catches the projectile pancake, stuffs it in his mouth, and shoots a peace sign back at the both of them as he continues absconding away. FREEDOM.

Well, at least the pancake got eaten. Tony's a human garbage disposal where Lazarus, unfortunately, probably wastes more food than he eats. It goes the same way as a hell of a lot of hot water in this place.

"Stop talking? That's real specific."

God damn it Tony. Rubbing her temples. Her headache is flaring up something fierce and Misa is just about ready to turn to day-drinking to relieve it.

"I am not going to explain innuendo to you."

Something seems to occur to him for the first time ever.

"'In-you'-endo..."

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