[GP/EP] Check-in Day

[st_igmatized]

It was a musical day at the Madonna Inn, both inside and out. Curnen had taken her usual place up on the roof and was singing charms to the sky to keep any wanderers from getting lost (though that part of it was not immediately obvious). Unrelated to that, Sunny was on the dance floor in the bar, summoning songs of her own with her knife to keep her moving before she went to do her shift at the library later. It was one of those days where if she thought about it too hard she’d start thinking about that empty bed in her shitty room and the person she most wanted to be there.

This of course eventually seeped into her magic. She knew better. Maybe she’d even wanted that to happen.

Because just once, between different pop hits and dance beats came a rather unexpected French love song. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the exasperation didn’t last. Before the lyrics started up she was waltzing. By herself and not caring how it might have looked. And for those three and a half minutes, she dared let herself hope for the slimmest chance that Orlu might come through that door.

She didn’t let herself hope too hard, though. There was admitting to feeling things and there was setting yourself up for certain disappointment. She’d lived too long with disappointment to do that to herself.

Comments

Re: Rocket & Emma

[st_ripetail]

"Chemistry I'm actually pretty fuckin' good at." Good enough to know that citric acid was a decent food preservation thing, though that kind of fruit had been rare enough in Gotham that he hadn't gotten enough experience to firmly identify it.

Once again he copied the motion to scoop out the green testicular stuff, then diced it with a few quick motions that made it clear he was also pretty good with knives. And that made it easier to pop a small piece into his mouth. "Not bad."

Re: Rocket & Emma

[st_ackeddeck]

"I like them, but don't cook with them often, mostly because I've never really lived anywhere before where it was easy to get good ones, but they're good on salads or sandwiches, or even just toast. And they're the main ingredient in a dip called guacamole." Avocados weren't exactly a staple in French, Creole, Cajun, or Italian cooking, with good reason.

She ate one piece of the avocado she'd cut up in demonstration, and decided to whip up some guac with the rest. If he wanted, he could try it, or the other ingredients as she put it together. And if not, somebody in the bar would eat it, she was sure.

"You didn't say. What should I call you?" she asked as she went to gather the rest of the ingredients for guacamole. She'd introduced herself earlier, skipping as usual the long explanation behind how she got to the nickname most people here used.

Re: Rocket & Emma

[st_ripetail]

"Rocket." It was a little thing, but Rocket appreciated the precision of 'what do I call you' over 'what's your name'. The answer was the same either way, of course, but the first one acknowledged that some people had shit names they didn't want to use. "Just Rocket. Nicknames an' me don't fuckin' get along." They were more miss than hit, and he accepted them without grudge from only a few.

He followed her on her ingredient search, watching where things were and what they were, seemingly content now to learn where things were kept rather than continuing his own disruptive search as a you're-not-the-boss-of-me statement.