infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

I should have bought a greenhouse instead of new television sets.

[ Who wants market produce during a plague? E w. ]

Fortunately I have a bit left over from Easter and the wedding. Would you and the missus fancy some prepared food that isn't plague-ridden?

[ Asking in a not-asking-way if they are still alive and well, please say yes. ]

[Yay free food.]

Yeah, sure. I can come get it, if you'd rather. I don't think this whole plague thing will bother me now. But Wedding?

[ The actual cost of this food is trading blissful ignorance, or at least what passes for it in criminal profilers these days. ]

April didn't mention? John and I eloped! The ah
weekend you weren't about.

[He won't stab you, plz be calm.]

CONGRATULATIONS! IS THERE ANY LEFTOVER CAKE?

You must be joking! The diet is over. Those cupcakes are long deceased.
But I can make more. Mine are better. :)

I'm sure they are. You already have the ingredients, though? I'd pick up whatever you need but considering the situation as it stands. You know.

Of course I do, what do you take me for?

[ A NON-BAKER? Get out. ]

Which flavor? Chocolate, vanilla, or orange cream?

[A liar.]

Let's go for orange cream, and give me about 20 minutes or so to get over there.

They won't be done that soon!

[ She is a liar, not Supergirl. ]

We're not making them together?

[ ~~w o w that's cheating. It's not like she's going to gut him in the kitchen-- well.~~ ]

You'd like to? John usually avoids what he can.

[ But then Will has offered cooking tips before. This time she can give the tips! In between the gutting. The cupcakes of truth.

Then she can have a few extra cupcakes for John when he's back from his work. She's already through with hers, thank bless. ]

19 minutes.

[why don't they make blood muffins instead?]

I'd like to. And 19 it is. If it takes over a half hour, call my work. I've been hit with the disease and won't be in for a while.

Oh let's hope not.
Kitchen door is open.

[ Because if there is an airborne virus around, she has it already with her line of work. Oops.

Let's make sure there are no stray weapons lying around before Will comes over, maybe! Of course almost anything can be a weapon, but they won't be needing knives for cupcakes. ]

[Oops.

Will makes it in record timing, decked out in his usual casual wear. For here, at least. He can't get away with the same obnoxious vests for ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING REASON as he could back home, it seems. So he's all jeans that are meant for beating around the house, plaid shirt that used to be a darker red but has since faded, this time without his sleeves rolled up. Disease! Virus! Better cover up. He's even wearing socks with his deck shoes, bless his ridiculous soul. Kitchen door is open, huh? Well, if that's meant as mocking, no problem, Will can pick the lock just the same. If it's not, less problem, he can let himself right in. He quite likes it when the cages he'll be confined to for any given time come with the ability for him to actually leave.

But for all his apparent mess, she'll probably note that he's gone without the watch he generally wears. And if she's ever noticed a suspiciously wedding band-like ring on one particular finger before, that's missing as well. All those little bits and ends that catch disease and hold it, the ones that aren't necessary, are nowhere to be seen. His first stop, even, as soon as he hits the kitchen, is the sink. That's the time he rolls up his sleeves and takes to the hot water and soap like he's about to go into surgery himself.]

How you doing today, Mrs. Watson?

[He'd give her a hug, or a handshake, or maybe even a kiss on the cheek...but not until he washes some of the potential filth off his hands, of course. Ain't right to touch another man's wife without at least bothering to clean up!]

[ Mary's also in jeans, though hers are designer, as is the red blouse, but it's already covered in an apron because even if Will wants to help, she already has everything set up and ready to go. There's even another apron draped over a kitchen chair just for Will (guess who it belongs to). She's not wearing a speck of jewelry herself, but that could be due to the fact that they're about to bake, and she had still gotten the chance to freshen up after work. Obviously there has been a lot of cleaning going on, but she wonders what point there is. Even wearing masks at work seems like such an empty gesture. One she still looks grateful for as Will washes his hands. ]

Standing on both feet and seeming quite healthy, I'm happy to say. Missing Dr. Watson though. He went off this morning to help in researching a cure. I didn't want to leave my children behind.

[ And they suspect Armstrong will want to lock that quarantine down once someone walks through the doors. Who knows when she'll see him again. Clearly John's inbox will be getting a lot of loving while he's away. But couldn't she use a hug and baking session? It's like her husband went off to war right after the wedding! Such is life. They are fuckin' pros. ]

And you? You're looking well.

[ YOU READY FOR SOME BLOOD MUFFINS? ]

[How could he not love her apron? He'd been surrounded by a shop full of horrible fishing puns and wordplay for nearly a year, it's apparent the second he spots what her apron says that he absolutely adores it. Even if he ends up smiling more at the sink than her, it's still there and that's what matters. Just like how Mary's on both feet and quite healthy. Missing John, well, of course she is. But at least she's not missing him from her own sickbed.]

Doing all right. [He wipes his hands on the nearest towel, assumes that she's probably washing them nightly (or more frequently than regular) due to the issue going around, and doesn't think much else on it. Just like he doesn't think much on whether or not that other apron has been left out for a reason, simply plucks it up, smiles again at the words across it, and tosses it over his neck with the ease of someone who's experience with sous chef work didn't involve knowingly cooking the meat of other human beings. Like cooking and baking is not at all a sore spot for him in any way.] Can't say I've gotten married recently, though.

[It doesn't take him long to tie the knot behind his back, shuffling over as he does so. But with the removal of her jewelry, he has been denied the obligatory reach-for-the-hand-to-inspect-the-goods, so he awkwardly goes for the shoulder-hug. Awkwardly meaning that comfortable sort of Will Graham awkward, of course.]

Congratulations.

[Will you smell like happy dog.]

[ Happy dogs probably smell much better than sad dogs, so she'll bask in the happy for the moment she's allowed it. He won't be happy by the end (but all of his dreams die in kitchens). When returning the hug, she almost moves to hug him the same way Freddie had, but instead opts for a more affectionate option, one hand even lingering to pat against his back before parting, as if to comfort him in advance (or perhaps retroactively). ]

Thank you. Sorry you missed it, but we actually used those tickets you gave us for after the wedding. John enjoyed himself more than he let on.

[ Will and April should be getting some thank you gifts for that soon! Aren't the Watsons nice. Aren't they pleasant. ]

But now there's plague and we all might die in a week's time. So there is that.

[ Pleasantly sarcastic, while pointing at the counter with one hand and the kitchen table with the other. Look at her little stations! ]

What's your fancy, batter or frosting?

[Everything dies in the kitchen, only to be consumed and reused. The feast is life, after all. You put the feast in your belly, and you live. What happens to the feast, then?

That hand on his back doesn't feel like comfort or apology; it feels like welcome, and Will Graham is quite starved for that sort of thing. Opening arms, almost loving, aren't what he's very used to. Back home, at any rate. Here is somewhat different, but he's still adjusting to actually finding it normal coming from anyone who is not April Ludgate. Let him enjoy it, all right? He's just going to revel in it for a second before he pulls away, that dumb smile on his face is only growing, and not even mass death thanks to plague can completely wipe it off his face.]

I'd probably do better with frosting. [He...may have issues with batter...and frosting might require more manly man strength if she doesn't have a beater. He can be more helpful, with his inherent masculine power. Definitely. Boys rule!] And glad to hear the tickets got used. That aquarium's the best one I've seen in the area, bar none.

[Guess who did some asking around about how the animals were treated, and the first guesses that are not Will Graham don't count.]

It was a delight. The gift shop was most memorable, oddly enough.

[ Such a smile should shred at her heart and cause her now to hang her head in shame. But no, she grins and taps playfully at his chin before turning towards the table, because friend. The frosting is indeed the easy option this time. It's technically two parts, but since the white chocolate ganache needs to be handled at the stove, Mary might as well take that on (surprise it's not just orange).

There are index cards set up with the whole recipe on it if he's curious beyond his special area. ]

This is simple enough. You just need to zest a couple of oranges, then beat the zest with the cream cheese and butter until it fluffs. Might be a few minutes. They've already softened, but if the frosting is too thick, add a tablespoon or so of orange juice. Just not too much. The icing sugar should be sifted in, and I'd go by taste since these are for you and April.

Edited 2015-04-22 02:17 (UTC)

[Did he just get tapped on the chin? Aw yeah, the dog in him is so pleased. And the sous chef who is totally not traumatized in him understands those directions easily, though the index cards do get a cursory glance. Mostly to make sure they're all recipe-related, nothing out of place. Like, say, a note from John to Mary or vice versa that she forgot to put away. Something domestic and worthwhile.]

What, you don't want even one? [His first stop is taking to those oranges with all the zest in the world. This is the where the manly physical prowess comes into play, she definitely needed him to stop by. So difficult for tiny lady fingers. Heh. TiraMarysu.] April and I might be able to pack away a good deal of food, but that doesn't mean we can't share.

[Because sharing is caring, and that's what friends DO, Shrek.

They ~~forgive each other~~ CARE.]

Oh, I really have been partaking far too much as it is... So has John.

[ They're very much recipe-related, with handwriting that's tiny and neat but has flourishes sneaking from the t's and y's. At the bottom of the last card, the last step is "Serve to nearest and dearest." This is at the bottom of all her recipes, bee-tee-dubs.

Her part is so easy, and it's like clockwork to her. That doesn't mean she does it monotonously, though, the occasional shift or gesture almost seeming to go along with a tune in her head as she turns to her station. Sour cream, you are going to make this thing even more wonderful, come here. ]

You could take them in to work. If anybody's willing to eat strange food right now... But I'll need to be sure they taste all right, so we can split one in good faith before you go.

[ In good faith of so very much. These cupcakes will have layers, Donkey. ]

[Serve to nearest and dearest is better than serving nearest and dearest, thank you very much. Will takes what he can get.

Mary seems to enjoy this, which means that even if Will couldn't get behind a baking or cooking session, that makes it easier on him. All he has to do is tune into her, draw and feed off the way she treats it like enjoyable ragtime clockwork, and it's almost natural for him to do the same. Now they just need the utensils to dance and the plates to sing and it'll be complete.]

As long as you don't judge my taste. [His taste, not April's. He's using minimal orange in this orange cream, if only because too much citric acid tends to aggravate his stomach. Citrus, as far as Will knows, does not count as a poison, so this whole new immunity will do all of diddly squat to prevent any later pain, unless he literally eats so much he could drown in fucking orange juice.] Oranges, lime, lemons, tomatoes, all still make my stomach act up. They'll probably be more orange-ish cream to prevent complications. So if moderation is something you have faith in, sure, let's split one.

[And make out at the same time. True love's kiss.]

[ She clucks in sympathy for the poor state of his aggravated belly. One can never really forget what state he returned in that time, but what about this most recent blip? She mentions him being gone that weekend so casually, but where did he go? A kitchen floor? A grave? ]

Hopefully it needn't be restricted too terribly, unless white chocolate also troubles your stomach.

[ The cups of heavy cream and white chocolate drops are ignored for now, but that can be readied when it's time for the cupcakes to cool, and it will only take a few minutes on the double boiler. Maybe her job is the easy one, look how that just worked out. This is a very simple recipe all around, though, as Mary hadn't felt like making this the focus. Too many details and the meaning is lost. ]

You said you don't think this whole plague thing will bother you now. How did you mean? Did something happen with the Porter?

[There is so little orange and so much cream cheese and butter, but if this is for April and him, he's going to take them both into account. There is slightly more zest than he'd go for himself, if only because he knows his stomach can handle a little more. He's not a weenie. Hasn't been roasted yet.]

The powers that be saw it fit to change what I've had ever since I got here the first time. [Will is really good at beating, go figure.] I made myself a batch of highly lethal pancakes and downed them with a glass of milk and strychnine. Never had a fruitier bunch of pancakes. Went through about an hour of stomach cramps, sweating, nausea. But, as you can see, I'm standing on both feet, too.

[He avoids the quite healthy part, refuses to go there after what he's just said. It could be argued that his methods are the opposite of healthy, and purporting that they are normal, or right, or healthy shows a startling lack of clarity, self-awareness, and general mental well-being. So he removes that entirely. And he's already told Chilton his new skill, why wouldn't he pass that along to Mary? She's a friend. She can be trusted.

She better believe that Will finds her trustworthy, Goddamnit.]

[ So that's what the Porter was doing with him? Why?

Those methods are anything but healthy, but except for a startled and quizzical scoff over one shoulder, Mary doesn't have too much to say about downing rat poison as a way to test new abilities. It sounds like something Sherlock might attempt when curious and bored, but the lot of them are rather reckless in regards to their own safety. Doesn't mean she can't act worried, even if it's with a smirk. ]

Thank God. Could have at least given John an alert in case it didn't go as well as that.

[ The poor doctor won't ever stand a chance in helping such an imprudent patient. At least if Will's survived being gutted and poisoned, a nurse's cupcakes won't be his undoing. ]

Seems such apt timing to have immunity, hard to believe it's a coincidence. Perhaps you lucked out.

[ ~~For once.~~ Finding anybody trustworthy is a fool's errand, Will Graham. All she needs to do is change into him since their hug to learn all about his new power(s), but the question was out of courtesy. No more fixing cups, is it? Can he still breathe underwater? ]

John's power helps him gain immunity as well. I might not stand a chance!

[ Lord and what is she doing? Wasting time with cupcakes and honesty. Will's puppy face could be the last one she sees before being taken by plague, what a thought. ]

Edited 2015-04-23 02:24 (UTC)

4/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeYsTmIzjkw

it would only help this scenario lbr

no lies detected

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