strangetrip | [OTA] S'more S'mores, Please (joint EP: Emma and Jag)

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[OTA] S'more S'mores, Please (joint EP: Emma and Jag)

Usually when Emma couldn't sleep, she cooked. Last night had been the opposite. She'd started trying out new marshmallow variations, completely lost track of time, and spent most of the night in the kitchen instead of doing reasonable things, like sleep. She'd grabbed a nap in the wee hours, though and another after lunch, and now was wide awake.

She also had batches and batches of homemade marshmallows.

Around sunset, Jag helped her set up a table near the pool and outdoor bar, that she loaded up with the marshmallows, graham crackers and other cookies, chocolate and berries and spreads and bacon. Anything somebody might think of that would make a good s'more, from the traditional basic graham, milk chocolate bar, plain marshmallow, to bourbon marshmallow s'mores with smoky bacon. If the inn was anything like the castle, word of mouth would spread quick enough, and the food wouldn't go to waste.

Jag had started a fire right beside the table, but after having had his own fill of s'mores, he had left Emma to meeting the demand of other hotel residents. He was sticking around to make sure the fire was behaving just right, though. So he was lying on his back a little way from Emma's table, and the fire he was still controling, weaving and sculpting additional fire between his hands, keeping a distracted ear on what was going on nearby.

[tag Emma or tag Jag. food and fire, what could be better?]

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Just when Liz thought she couldn't be more enthralled by Jag's ability, he created a duplicate out of fire. It was s really strange thing to see and she reached out gingerly to touch her fire-clone's face.

"Is this magic or something you've always been able to do?"

She supposed belatedly magic could be something you could always do.

He glanced at Emma without meaning to. "Someone told me I'm a mutant, but I always thought I was magic. One-trick pony, though." He shrugged, and with a swirl of his fingers, the fiery face turned into his signature bird, wings beating to keep it afloat. "Don't much care. Even if I am a mutant, this is fucking magical."

The bird started flying around Liz, giving off enough heat that it was clear Jag was no longer keeping the fire from burning. "Let me know if you want to touch it."

She watched the bird for a moment. She had always thought fire was pretty, but also super dangerous. Unlike some of the boys on Kyle's football team, Liz had never felt the urge to through various things into a fire, but she remembered going to a bonfire with Kyle and watching his friends through batteries and other explosive things in it and thinking just how destructive it could be.

Liz looked at Jag. "Are you...um. Are you a superhero?" And immediately she turned red in the face and ducked her head, wishing she could take back the question - a question that was definitely influenced by hanging out with Peter Parker so much.

Jag laughed at the question. Not at her, more at the concept of him being a superhero. "No. Definitely a no. I'm a performer." He was unlikely to be the sanest person around, but he also wasn't crazy enough to think that superhero was a good career choice.

The laugh still caused her to duck her head a bit more, even if she was aware the laugh didn't seem to be directed at her. "Sorry." She smiled sheepishly. How did you apologize for letting your boyfriend's exuberance direct your thoughts?

She decided to push through the embarrassment. "Are you like one of those fire dancer people?" She had seen some in movies before when people vacationed in places like Hawaii.

"A bit," Jag agreed, and held his hand up for the bird to come and perch there, as if it were a pet. He even reached up to pet its head, and the bird shifted into the stroke agreeably. "But mostly fire juggling. Some more elaborate things, like this, when I was with the circus."

He wasn't sure how much his accent, a mishmash of different popular British accents, with Brummie at its core, might have given away the fact that he was a Traveler. She sounded American, and few enough of those could tell British accents apart. And it wasn't as if his clothing hinted at it either, these days, what with relying on the hotel boutique. He nearly looked like any old gadjo, but at least his hair was long due a cut, and well past his shoulders now (and he refused to tie it, ta), and he was wearing more jewelry than most men usually did, a couple of rings, some bracelets, and a couple of chains around his neck, one of which held the bird pendant his Em had given him.

Liz's exposure to circuses and carnivals was exactly that - small excursions when she was younger with her parents without any real knowledge of the life of the people who ran it and entertained the people. To her, Jag looked like someone her parents would describe as 'eccentric'. Of course, she knew Max, in the future, grew out his hair. She wondered if that was a thing a lot of guys did as they got older.

"Did you like it? Performing, I mean." Liz found being in front of so many people hard and when she had forced herself to sing for Peter recently, it had been terribly embarrassing.

"Loved it," Jag confirmed without missing a beat. There was no doubt in his mind.

He raised his arm to throw the bird off and it took flight, disappearing after a few flaps of its wings.

She smiled at that. "Have you ever thought of, um. Doing a show here? Like how Coby or Curnen or Scanlan perform sometime at the bar?"

"I'm putting something together, yeah," Jag confirmed with a nod.

Liz's expression didn't hide the interest in that. "Really? I'd really like to see it when you've finished putting it together. I'm sure it'll be really something to see."

"Reckon I'll put up an announcement or something, yeah?" Jag assured her. "Not much point putting it together if no one's there to watch it." Much as it made him uneasy. He was used to other acts cushioning his numbers, or simply people stopping by when they found it interesting. Advertising no other number but his own, for a captive audience? It put him on the spot in a way he wasn't used to.

Liz knew enough about how hard it was to perform. She had only done it once and was still sort of living through the mortification.

"Are you going to have music playing?" She paused, thoughtful. "I bet Miguel would love to help out if you wanted live music."

She was, of course, aware of Curnen and Scanlan and Coby, but Miguel was always so excited about playing that Liz thought he should have more opportunities.

"Sunny's helping me out with that," Jag answered with a smile. That, at least, was a weight off his shoulders. "She's got a spell to play music you want to hear. If this one works out, maybe I'll work with live music next. I'll see."

Though he really was more likely to ask Coby or Curnen than anyone else. He was connected to them.

"You mean like, the spell would let me hear something different than someone else, or just what you want to play like a CD?" Liz was still so new to magic, but she was continually fascinated.

"Like a CD," Jag confirmed with a nod.

Although, for all he knew, she could do the other thing, too.

"That's really neat. I'm looking forward to your show whenever you make it." She smiled widely. "I'm sure you'll do really well."

Jag smiled back at her. "Cheers, bab. But what about you? How are you keeping busy around here? When you're not waitressing."

"Oh, um." She blushed a little. Did hanging out with your boyfriend an absorbent amount of time count? Probably not. "I study. I'm learning science with Kitty and, um. Russian with Illyana and art with Piotr." Peter was teaching her how to fight, as much as that was actually being successful. "I know that sounds pretty lame."

"Does it?" Jag asked sceptically. "Maybe I ought to start learning Russian, too. Give me something to do. I like the sound of it." All he knew was how to ask for a beer, and a few insults and curses.

"It's a really interesting language." Although Liz had to wonder if Illyana was going to get annoyed with her for getting someone else to ask for her to teach. Maybe not as long as it wasn't Peter.

"I'm trying to, um. Surprise Piotr, actually." She lowered her voice a bit in case he was around. "I just don't know if I sound good enough yet to hold a conversation."

Jag wasn't sure that the problem was sounding good enough, more like being good enough. As long as you could make yourself understood, your accent could be shite but conversation possible. But he only asked, "What does Illyana say?"

"She's kind of hard to read." And Liz often felt too intimidated to ask outright, which would probably get a clear answer. "I think she has really high standards." Liz's eyes widened a bit and she felt the need to quickly add, "Which is a good thing. I mean, it helps me a lot to get better."

Illyana was a great many things, very definitely including hard to read and a possessor of high standards, from what Jag could tell. "Motivation is good. But I'm sure she'd tell you if she thought you could get through a conversation, if you asked."

"You're right. I should ask her." Even if sometimes asking her direct questions was really scary. She paused "Do you, um, speak any other language other than English?"

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