bakerstreet | did you check the fridge

TEAM MEETING AT 4:15PM
(only bring snacks if they aren't brownies!)

[ She opens the fridge and grabs the orange juice carton. Upon closing it, she sees the note and snorts, pouring the juice in a wine glass from the dishwasher. ]

Well, that's not for me.

You're right, it's not.

I'm bringing regular brownies.

Where'd you get them from? I thought you only got the one box.

The little Italian bakery down the street.

Do you think you can go back for some cannolis too?

'Leave the gun, take the cannoli.'
[terrible impersonation, but she's distracted digging through the upper cabinets.]

...What are you looking for?

My will to live. [climbs atop the counter so she can actually see into the topmost cabinets, swiping her hand around with no such luck.]

Somebody hide my tea?

Rough morning?

[They're all gonna be moody today aren't they. It's fine.]

I haven't seen your tea. I don't know who else drinks it.

Always. [the process of getting up is always a whole ordeal, and she looks even more exhausted than usual.]

... Ugh. Did somebody rearrange things again? Why are the spices all alphabetized...

Zemo.

[ He sounds like someone reasonable to blame it on. She sits on the other side of the counter. ]

[mutters something about that purple sock faced arrogant aristocratic hypocritical terrorist... was that last word heartthrob? well.]

Fetch the holy grail while you're looking for that, will you? And the arc of the covenant, we can pawn them.

I have back-ups of some things stashed, if you're out.

Best offer I can do is $3.

Oh thank god. I'm not surviving this meeting without something strong.

Mm. No deal.

It seems a little rude to thank someone else for it, but fine. I will be right back. [Sorry Ava, even you don't get led to the secret food stash she's got.]

Oh thank Yelena, my one true savior.

[she could just follow, you know. invisibly. but nah, she'll just wait here still up on the counter, legs swinging.]

Much better.

[She's so going to get that sound bite off the cameras later. Worth it, if she does get followed, anyway. She'll move the stash tomorrow regardless, more paranoid about her snacks (and bargaining chips, potentially) than her physical safety for certain.

Hope you're ready to catch the box of tea, when she comes back, cause she's immediately tossing it at you.]

[she catches the box with ease, looking somewhat more relieved to have caffeine in hand even if it isn't circulating her bloodstream yet.] Thanks. Want any?

[already hopping off the counter, to start the kettle.]

[She has already had some caffeine, but more is always nice - if not for the people around her, for her at least.]

Sure, if you're offering.

[a couple mismatched mugs down from the cabinet, then, plopping a teabag into each.] What else are you hiding in your stash?

Just the things people get weepy or bitchy about, if we run out, mostly.

And which of those things was I? [mock glare from right over her shoulder]

Which of those things were you? Neither. Which of those things WOULD you have been? Well, now we do not need to worry about that, because we were prepared.

Crisis averted then, hm. [satisfied enough with the answer]

Exactly! Although it is a shame to miss an opportunity to see you pout.

I just started making my morning routine mimosa. I'll get cannolis tomorrow.

It's fine. They're better from the Brooklyn bakery anyway.

They're not that hard to make. You just get a crust and fill it.

That sounds sacreligeous.

Canollis aren't Catholic.

I thought you were heading out to get Yelena her tiramisu.

I'm going. I'll bring you back one sad looking, soggy cannoli.

[ She downs the drink and jumps off the counter before heading for the door, asking for her driver. ]

If their cannolis are bad then your bakery isn't a good one. I'll leave you a list of much better places. You're welcome.

[ She starts texting him from the car. ]

My bakery is fine.

...Okay send me the list.

I'll put it in a doc for you later.

I have a feeling this doc isn't going to be bakeries.

Forget cannolis, bring back tiramisu next time.

Sure, I'll go get it for you right now.

[she does love being a favorite.]

Thank you very much.

[ Texting from the bakery. ]

The have a whole cake.

Get two. We can split one and the others can have the other so we can ignore their whining.

Got it. Anything else before I head back?

Hmm. Ball gag for Walker, but other than that I think we're good.

Alright, I'll stop at the sex shop.

Thank you.

[ underneath it, on another post-it, in bob's all but unreadable chicken-scratch: ] why 15?????

[ bob is that what's important here??? ]

[ Okay, they can do a chain ladder of notes. ]

If you say 4pm sharp, everyone will be late anyway. 4:15 gives people leeway.

[she's gotta be on the ladder too]

I will be there at 4:18 and no sooner.

Alright, meeting starts at 4:20

Meeting starts at 4:20 and you want people NOT to bring those type of brownies?

That's what I wrote on the note, yeah. I don't know how I could have been more clear about it?

4:20 is a special time for weed people, for some reason. Very important to their culture.

....What? Jesus Christ. I just can't win, can I.

I don't know what you are talking about, you have all of us as your team, you are winning so big right now.

Okay, you got me there. For that, I'm very lucky.

So while Valentina's out, we should get this started.

[ sipping the frilliest coffee drink they serve on the starbucks menu. ] Why are we meeting?

Well, for starters- I think we should have a team meeting at least once a week, just so we can... you know. Connect.

[No, he didn't have any of the brownies.]

But mostly, Yelena and I decided that we need to talk about Val.

[He's been here for almost half an hour.]

What about her?

She used my razor on her pubes.
[how long has she been lurking invisibly? anyone's guess, she just appears, sipping at her tea.]

.....

[This face only.]

If I had to suffer, we all do.

We're all suffering, believe me.

But that's the thing. We need to talk about how to handle her. Boundaries she needs to follow. Rules we have to put in place for her. We need to operate as a united front here.

Boundaries? Rules? You think she's actually going to go for that?

She'd only play by them long enough to find a way to use them against us.

We're not gonna let her use anything against us. We've gotta be smarter about this.

I personally was not going to ask her if she wanted to go for that or not. We are telling, plain and simple. All of the little arguments aside, this we need to agree on completely. And, yes, eventually whatever we come up with, she will try and wiggle her way around or use to her advantage, so we also need to come up with consequences for when she does that.

If we had not gone along with her little stunt, she would be fucked right now. We are not going to get better leverage than we have right now. Between all of us - well, between most of us at least, like Bucky said, if we are a united front we should be able to pull this off.

And what are those consequences going to be, send her to her room without dinner? Blackmail? How does that make us any better than her?

Red hook pier. [just mimes tossing a body off it.] Hear it's not illegal there.

No....no. You're missing the point of what Yelena is saying. We're not blackmailing her, sending to her room or killing her. Consequences don't mean blackmail, neither does leverage. We sit here and figure out something together.

We have to be on the same page though, if we're going to come up with a solution. That means no going behind each other's backs either.

We could just dunk her a few times...

I don't know, the punishment I'm used to probably isn't applicable here. And none of us want her off her meds.

[Public floggings. No, dammit, she has to be a non-chaos voice right now.]

We are here to figure out what those consequences are going to be, Walker, I just said that. And I think it would take more than a little blackmail to contain her to become as bad as her, but currently she needs us. We can use that. If you have other suggestions that are not likely to end badly for us as well, I am happy to hear them, but if this becomes some public he said, she said public airing of crimes, I am pretty sure that ends with her managing again to keep herself free and us dead or in the Raft.

Edited 2025-05-24 22:56 (UTC)

I'm genuinely not here to argue. I just don't see how this is going to work. What do we think she's going to do, anyway?

You know what she wants. She wants to manipulate the situation to however she sees fit, and control us. It's just little things here and there, and then next thing you know we'll be working her jobs, taking her hits, following her agenda. She needs to realize she's not the one in control here, we are.

She needs boundaries. And we need to know when to say no to her. She's getting very friendly. With some more than others.

[Looks at you, Alexei]

[follows that look and... quickly shakes her head to delete it from her mind.]

Well, she hasn't asked anything of me other than the ingredients for brownies.
Which by the way, made the walls melt.

I think she's just trying to make it up to us. [because she knows Ava would drop her off the top of the tower if she pissed her off]

... She did apologize to me, in a very uncharacteristically sincere way. And she has been extra - well, she has not been acting like herself, in some big ways.

But that could still be a trick, or she could decide she wants to stick with her historically established tendencies, and we need to be prepared for that. If she is somehow turning over a new leaf or whatever, then the boundaries we draw will not be a problem for her, but we will still be covered.

Maybe we will get somewhere with this more easily if we list the things we are not okay with her doing. In my opinion, we need to make it clear that she cannot treat everything in the Watchtower - including us - as if it were available for free use. Basically, have some manners. Also we need to know what she is bringing into the building. I had some of the brownies too, we do all tend to need help relaxing, BUT Bucky was right about it being a problem that mind-altering substances were here and in food before we knew about them.

Guess you knew her better than I ever did. I had a strict minimum contact policy.

Honestly, I think she's just relieved one of her schemes worked out and her own ass didn't end up in prison. Even if we weren't her... you know, top choice. She gets credit, we get... this. In her mind we all got what we wanted, so of course she wants to play nice to maintain that balance.

But I want the security cameras disabled, if we're going to be listing our grievances.

She hasn't been acting like herself could mean a lot of things. We know how she is, what she's done. We also know that this is a kind of grace period for her. Maybe she's relieved, yeah. Maybe she wants to play nice.

Considering what we've all done, I want to get behind that notion, but I think we all know better than to just trust her like that. And yeah, we need to make it clear to her that she can't treat everything as if it were available for free use.

If you wanna disable the security cameras, I'm all for it. In fact, we shouldn't have them at all. We're not hers to watch. If she wants to watch the lobby she can feel free.

I would have loved to have been able to have a minimum contact policy, instead of her stalking me to my sister's grave. Since I didn't have that, I made sure I got some intel out of it.

She might want to play nice now, but the odds are pretty awful about that lasting more than... what, another 6 hours at best? I want us prepared before she starts plotting again, if she really isn't yet.

I vote removal for all but the lobby cameras as well, and one of us should have the admin access. She can have watch access, but I don't want her erasing or editing things.

[ 🥹 connecting.. ]

Oh, I guess that's a good idea, yeah..

[ a beat, then he offers out his drink to bucky. want a sip? ]

No wonder you and Yelena sent her off for desserts.

[ yeah yeah.

He takes the offered drink with a small thanks, taking a sip before he hands it back. ]

She was already lurking. Surprising, considering her overnight activities.

[Alexei recognized that handwriting, so he makes sure to corner Bucky at the earliest opportunity to demand an explanation.]

Why? Why no brownies?

[Oh jeez. He definitely feels cornered.]

Hey. Alexei. I specifically made the meeting later so everyone would be recovered from their brownies.

Last I saw Val she was headed to you with brownies.

[Sorry Bucky, he read "no brownies" and took that to mean "no brownies of any kind because I irrationally hate brownies now", which is the proclamation of a mad man. He's not really making the connection to special brownies and the damage they could do.]

If everyone is recovered from brownies, that means there is room for more brownies. So why no brownies?

Maybe because despite the fact that we're all adults and we can make our own choices, we also have to remember that we're Avengers now, and we can't just get high every single afternoon.

High? [... Alright, now it clicks, and he laughs, slamming a hand down on Bucky's shoulder.] Why did you not say so? No special brownies is not the same as no brownies, friend! And this does not stop anyone from bringing special cookies. Or special cakes.

[ Bucky grimaces a little. ]

I figured after last night everyone knew I meant the special brownies.

...and that no one would bring a special anything. We're not eating special cakes. Especially not ones from Valentina.

At official team meetings? Definitely not. That would be very bad idea. And on missions? Also very bad. But when we have some time on our hands, I do not see why we can't have a nibble of something special.

Yeah, official team meetings. Glad you agree. Even less on missions.

She needs to let people everyone that she's drugging the brownies. I sent out a message, thank god, but anyone could've gotten into them without knowing what it was.

[Yelena adds a sticky note below that, reading: I've got $20 for everyone who manages to bring a different kind of brownie, and then goes rummaging for frozen waffles.]

Edited 2025-05-24 15:53 (UTC)

[Adds: Just not THAT kind of brownie please and thank you. ]

Those brownies were meant for Bob anyway! No need for such a harsh ban.

I truly hope you're joking- though I'm not sure why you'd joke about that.

Is someone missing an ink well, a rock, a feather, or an interesting metal statue?

Also found a coffee cup. Not the usual that Lucanis has brought. Might be his, might be someone else's?

Think the wisps are at it again.

[ ooc: good with canon, cross-canon, or au. go wild! ]

Edited 2025-05-24 07:02 (UTC)

The inkwell's mine, thanks. Shocked they took that and not my half finished correspondences.

I'll put it back in your chamber within the hour.

Every time I think I can't be surprised by what they choose to focus on, they manage to surprise me. They might've noticed I need more ink.

No rush. I'm not exactly eager to write the first Warden back politely telling him where he can stick his 'assumptions' about the Darkspawn. Considering how good Your people have been to work with I'm frankly ashamed at the way mine have been acting.

Draw a picture to go with it. Really sell your point.

So far, it's just been the one who's acting like a loose cannon. The others seem amenable to working together. Could be worse.

Believe me, I've thought about it. So far the only thing that's stopped me is a worry that he'll get so incensed we'll end up having to go through him and otherwise good wardens obeying orders on top of everything else we're trying to fight.

[It's enough to give Jim a headache.]

There's gotta be some Wardens we can reach out to. Between Harding and I we'll find some allies.

what kinda statue

Not sure. Don't think it's Antivan. Might be Rivaini. Could be related to the Grey Warden statue puzzles. It's not Tevinter and I don't think it's Nevarran.

Are you missing one? You can stop by and get a look at it.

[ there's a very crude drawing of an owl perched on a warrior's shoulder, but the warrior is missing its head and half its body. ]

huh dont think so could probably tell you if its worth anything tho ?

[ who taught them to spell like that... ]

If I haven't found the owner by tomorrow, sure. If it's worth anything and you recognize where it should go, we'll deliver it.

On that note, is anything missing from your chamber? The wisps have taken to wandering, it seems.

[ yeah, that took her a moment, but at least sounding it out got her the answer quickly enough. ]

Okay is the doodle the statue? it's probably warden stuff then but I can look [There is a doodle of a thumbs up.]

Don't think so Don't think I have a lot of stuff they like

Might be related to that fort on the coast? Or a Rivaini who joined the Wardens?

Any unanswered questions on parchment or shiny things could get their attention, but hopefully they'll leave your chamber alone. They're trouble enough for me.

oh right that maybe? Let me look at it and I can probably tell you Shiny things? I have a lot of those

[What better place to leave your notice of resignation than on one of those large refrigerators that house all the frozen burger patties? The passive aggressive I QUIT! is scrawled in bright red ink on the back of a receipt. Seems that last customer really got under Bandou's skin.]

[Some time long, long ago, Bandou mentioned where he was employed and Tomoe agreed to someday visit him. With a full schedule Tomoe was only able to make good on that promise at last today. Although he walks in with a merry saunter, his mood lowers when he realizes he can't see Bandou anywhere.

Maybe it's his day off? Oh no...

And yet, through a clownish series of events best described by the cinematic classic "somehow, Palpatine returned", if Bandou happens to dash in to retrieve a forgotten phone charger, or look back forlornly upon his ex-workplace once last time, he will see Tomoe standing behind the counter with a happy hamburger logo'd hat on his head (staff only) and a big smile on his face.]

[You know what's even worse than forgetting your phone charger in your work locker? Realizing you're still wearing your required hair net because you forgot your hat. Wow, Bandou's really pissed if he's leaving behind his precious accessories! And now, as he stops dead in his tracks, he thinks he must be hallucinating from this red-hot rage, cause why the hell is he seeing Tomoe behind the registers??]

What the hell are you doing here?!

[He doesn't mean to yell at his fwb, but he's already in grump mode.]

We have plenty of ice packs, stop using the frozen veggies on your bruises.

[ Written in a neat little hand on a new post-it. ]

Buy more, they're tasty!

Whoever got a fridge for my place, thank you.

But also what the fuck.

I left some of my special recipe in the fridge for you!

Be sure to eat lots!

XOXO

[Look who totally didn't eat the entire portion before seeing the note.]

You honor me so! The luminosity of your radiant heart was palpable in every bite!
- 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓼

[ Oh. That's slightly unexpected. Her niece tried to kill him once... awkward. ]

Oh, I'm glad you were able to enjoy it!

Did it settle well?

[ You know... nothing piggish going on? ]

[Theseus has never been consistent about his grudges. Whether that be for good or ill, for which party, is still up in the air]

I have nary a complaint! For what purpose do you beseech my testimony? Are you undertaking a new venture in gastronomy?

[If he had some amount of awareness, he would request being a bull, at least.]

Just wondering if I made it correctly, that's all!!

[What you don't know can't hurt you, right?]

On my part I say you did flawlessly!

The office refrigerator gets cleaned out every Friday.

Stop leaving leftovers for a week, you fucking heathens.

And yes, I can tell.

If you finish the juice or milk—do NOT put the empty carton back in the fridge!

If it’s not on the shopping list, it will not magically appear in the pantry.

We have enough hoisin sauce—do not buy more.

( written in such a way that it's clear the author was in a rush: )

DON'T TOUCH THE CONTAINER IN THE BACK.
IF YOU SEE IT MOVING... NO YOU DIDN'T.

BREAD
CAULIFLOWER
ONIONS

FOOD
SOAP — BULK

[ The F in "food" is penned in two or three times over, correcting a P ]

[ONIONS is scratched out.]

[ And written back in, exactly the same. ]

[ Crossed out. ADDED "NO, THEY HURT MY TUM TUM." Very serious, very adult. ]

[ Good lord. ]

ONIONS for me

[ Aries decides to put a little heart on other side of "me" in the "for me," and stink lines off ONIONS. ]

MORE BANADAGES

[ Appended in black marker: ]

Chocolate \ Wine (white) / Dealer's choice

[ next to "chocolate": ] kind?

75%

[ Arrow pointing to SOAP. ]

Kind??

[ please say you buy different soap for what passes for her laundry and what passes for her hygiene ]

[ Baker's chocolate he might indulge. Hap will remember she likes 75% but he won't order it. Wine is plenty.

Responding to her question, ] same

[ The soap he's given her is what the others use. For everything.

But later on in the day he adds, ] I'll get some shampoo, etc bars

[ Baker's chocolate? The unsweetened kind? Wow. Wow!

They no longer have the kind of relationship where Bella can use a ♥ to indicate gratitude, but she has to acknowledge the gesture somehow. She draws a smiley face next to "shampoo" instead.

Bars, though?

Sometime later a paper -- a page torn neatly from a notebook -- is put up on the fridge. ]

+---+ | | | | | | ========= _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[ He'd let her bake for him. Them. The two of them. But it sets a bad precedent to mindlessly entertain her every whim.

Which a game of hangman could count as, as well. Hap doesn't respond to it until the next morning, late, having decided she's the one with something to lose if this is an attempt to insult him. ]

E

_ _ E _ E _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ E _ _ _ _ _

[ When was the last time he played this game? He genuinely can't remember. There must be dozens of apps dedicated to it now, loaded to bursting with ads. ]

T

T _ E _ E _ _ _ _ T _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ T T _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ E _ _ T _ _

H, R, I

T H E R E I _ _ _ T H I _ _ _ _ _ _ _ R _ _ _ _ _ T T H I _ _ I _ _ _ _ _ E _ I T _ _

Edited 2025-05-25 14:08 (UTC)

S, N, G

[ He fills in "is nothing" and "or" himself even though O isn't among his guessed letters. ]

[ Cheating! ]

T H E R E I S N O T H I N G G _ _ _ O R _ _ _ _ _ T T H I N _ I N G _ _ _ E _ I T S _ bonus points for naming the source

THERE IS NOTHING EITHER GOOD OR BAD BUT THINKING MAKES IT SO

[ It's a quote he likes. A little pandering, but getting to it was fun.

On the morning he solves it, her soap arrives. He leaves the box open for her on the counter. Honey and rosemary shampoo bars and eucalyptus for body. Hap still has reservations about it. She could make do with the same soap as the subjects but they don't share a daily space with him. He uses natural soaps himself, kinder on the skin and to the senses. ]

[ No bonus points! She wonders if he knows the source. Initially she picked it because accusing him outright of being paranoid -- thinking some things bad -- would be tacky. Well, tacky and inaccurate, since she is often thinking about killing him.

But sitting around with nothing else to do she remembered the original context: it's the scene where Hamlet says Denmark's a prison. I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

Well played game, anyway, so she draws a star by the solution.

The soap feels like such a generous gesture, a concession she had to do so little to get, that she's almost suspicious.

A note on the counter where he left the soap: ]

I owe you one. Thank you. -B

[ Hap knows the source broadly. Shakespeare. The exact context, he coulsnt recall. In a moment of frustration, going around in circles collating the keyword "blue" across interview transcripts, he takes a breather by searching the quote's context.

He finds it sharp and charming. He reminds himself she's dangerous.

Nonetheless, the B on her note coaxes a smile out of him.

Who else would it be? ]

You don't

[ She does. ]

[ It's a sweet answer that absolutely aggravates her. Hap definitely wants to be generous, a gentleman. Bella believes that. Exhibit A: the soap. But he can turn generosity into grievance so damn fast your head would spin -- exhibit B: the way his whole demeanour towards her changed at the hangar when he clocked that she'd considered running. How's she supposed to interpret the sincerity of two words on a note?

Trying to exist in some kind of quantum uncertainty state where she both believes that he won't ever call this in as a debt, and believes that he'll call it in when he feels justified to use it against her, is exhausting to even contemplate. She makes the active decision to believe him, and takes the note back to her room to prove it later.

That probably undercuts the idea that she believes him. Oh well.

A few days later she puts up on the fridge: ]

STIR FRY? Soy sauce Garlic Ginger Fish sauce Sesame oil Siracha

[ It was a fun diversion but Hap doesn't exactly feel himself missing it when it's over. At this point, he's still aware of her every hour of the day when his nose isn't in his work. He'll catch a sound — a footfall, the scrape of a chair, the bathroom door closing — and then her sounds are all he'll hear for the next couple of hours.

He wouldn't say it outright bothers him but maybe it looks like it does, and that's why instead of interrupting him she communicates with him at his convenience. That definitely doesn't bother him. ]

Rice or noodles?

[ Later, "noodles" is circled.

Her logic behind the notes, insofar as there's conscious thought behind it, is threefold. Staying in Hap's good graces is important to her -- he's not wrong there -- and keeping out of his way is the easiest way to avoid trouble. Add to that that both of them are keeping odd hours: some days Hap gets sucked into his work, only emerging late at night; some days Bella naps for hours and gets up just to eat dinner before Hap locks her room again. (She thinks the numb feeling that precedes these days is boredom.) It's easier to handle some things this way than hope their paths cross.

Those are practicalities. The things she needs the notes for. What she likes them for is that they feel -- normal. Like the two of them really are just housemates. The last time she lived with anyone for an extended period was undergrad, and she and the two other girls splitting rent on off-campus housing had left sticky notes all over the place, claiming food in the fridge, reminding each other about utility bills, scolding whoever used the last of the toilet paper and didn't replace it. Normal stuff.

She misses normal stuff. She'll take a facsimile of it, if that's all she can get. ]

[ There's just enough time to add her requests into his monthly grocery order. Hap will have to make the meal, if her intent is to share it. Not unlike how he makes the coffee each morning. They haven't built up the trust yet for her to cook for him, though Hap would be surprised if she wanted to. She's doing as well as can be expected and no better. ]

Dinner next week?

[ Hm. She wants to reply, but -- tone is difficult to achieve over text.

Later that day, while Hap is at work in the dining room, comes the sound of footsteps and a knock on the wall. ]

Hap?

[ Bella stands politely at the edge of the room, not crossing the boundary between kitchen and workspace. She's barefoot, wearing her blouse and slacks; the fabric of both has started to look subtly duller from weeks of being hand washed with hand soap. In one hand she's holding the Dinner next week? note. ]

[ Hap is knee deep in wires when she speaks up. She's walking softly today; he's barely noticed her. Hunched over his work, he flashes a grimace as he straightens. His eyes flick to the paper and then to her face. ]

Yes?

[ She gives him a wry smile. ]

Hi. Sorry. [ Waving the note: ] The answer is yes, but I have no idea what day it is. You'll have to give it to me in "days from now."

[ He smiles apologetically. It's not as if Hap had a calendar up that he took down. Instead, he hasn't thought about getting one for her benefit — because it wouldn't be to her benefit. It's not a kindness to give her the tools to quantify precisely how much of her life he's stolen thus far. ]

Four.

It's a date.

[ Her weight shifts like she's about to turn and leave, but she hesitates, glancing over the table. ]

Could I ask what ... How's it going? [ The mess of wires. ] I probably wouldn't have the background to know what you're making.

[ His back has been sore for a while, he's just been ignoring it. Staying the course. Shifting has called it vividly to the forefront of his mind, so a break isn't a terrible idea. He reclines in his chair, stretching his neck. ]

It's a different application of the ear. The device you helped me market. [ And a lot more than that. ] But this would be geared towards EEG readings. Brain activity.

Electro...? Not cardiogram, that'd be the heart.

Electroencephalogram. [ he offers, then checks his watch. The early evening hour takes him aback. Hap pulls his glasses off and sets them down, then pushes out from the desk. ]

You like tea?

Electroencephalogram, [ she repeats, snapping her fingers. ] It was right on the tip of my tongue.

Herbal or black?

At this hour, should probably be herbal. [ he laments. Hap loves his caffeine. Tea just scratches the ritual itch when it's too late for coffee to be sensible. ]

Edited 2025-05-30 03:28 (UTC)

Sure, as long as it's not chamomile. Chamomile always makes me feel like I'm drinking potpourri.

[ He chuckles as he nears her, the kettle resting on the counter behind her. ]

That's... very accurate.

I strive for accuracy.

[ She steps aside, glancing to the counter, one hand lifting towards the kettle unthinkingly. ]

[ Catching that, he pauses. ]

Go ahead. [ It's just a simple electric kettle with five different temperature settings, four of which he rarely uses.

He goes to the cupboard where he keeps the coffee and digs out a box of bagged tea, a mundane brand he can easily get his hands on. While he's out, he'll pick up more expensive loose leaf, but that doesn't always occur to him. ]

[ It's only as her hand closes around the kettle's handle that she realizes what he's allowing. The kettle by itself is probably too lightweight to be much of a weapon, but once it's filled with scalding water, it'll be a different story.

What if she--?

No. She's not ready to risk it.

(She wants so badly to feel normal.)

She fills the kettle, sets it to boil, and goes to retrieve a couple of mugs from the dish rack. ]

The ear thing you're working on. Does that mean you're trying to hear brain waves?

[ The sound of water running, then the click of the kettle fitting onto its base, fill him like a breath of fresh air. Suppressing a smile, he pulls out two packets of Earl Grey flavored rooibos.

Tearing one open and then the other, he cocks an eyebrow at her question. That's a feature that could have potential for his purposes. He'll have to think on that, perhaps shuffle some priorities around. ]

This would be purely visual, but that's an interesting idea. [ He lowers a teabag into each of the mugs in her hands. ] Listening to someone's thoughts.

Sure. [ Musing: ] Could have implications for law enforcement. I don't know if there's anything detectable in your brain activity when you lie, though. I doubt it'd be any more admissible than a polygraph anyway.

There's been research into it. It's a nascent area of study but they're not coming up empty-handed, from what I understand.

[ Lying isn't something he typically has to worry about with his subjects. The gas alleviates both him and the subjects of that as a factor. ]

There must be something happening in our heads when we're deceptive, right? Then it's just a question of measuring it.

[ She sets the mugs down, glancing to the kettle -- the water needs another minute -- and leans against the counter. ]

Honestly, you could probably market it to the cops as a lie detector whether or not it worked. Police departments love technology.

I thought you'd be trying to hear them, [ she continues, gesturing at her temple, ] because of what you said before. About hearing something when someone died.

[ He's sure she's right about the cops as a target audience. But then he'd have to talk to cops. Putting aside his sordid obsession, he's never met one that wasn't dull at best and a boorish thug at worst. He'd just as soon fly to Silicone Valley and clamber through a lobby disguised as a soft play area to pitch a patent to a boardroom of insufferable millennials. ]

Go back to the beginning. [ Hap's come so far since then. He hasn't cast an eye to the past in years. It's an idea that's not without value. ]

If that's where it started.

[ She's watching him closely. The look in her eyes is hard to read; she isn't entirely sure what she's feeling herself. Curiosity, apprehension. Something like the fascinated unease of a student at her first dissection, interested and yet all too aware of the morbidity of the subject matter. ]

What actually happened?

[ Hap mirrors her, placing his hand on the counter and shifting his weight to it. ]

I was working in the emergency room as an anesthesiologist. I had a patient come in from a crash. It was touch and go, and he went, and I heard it. This — [ his open hand sweeps out ] "whoosh," but it didn't come from his mouth. I wasn't even sure. Doctors think they hear things like that all the time.

But we got him back. Defib. And that second time, I knew. I knew it was real. Him. His consciousness, or will, soul, his essence, whatever you want to call it. It left and it came back.

You heard it both times? The--? [ She sweeps her hand out, mirroring him, then reverses the gesture. ]

I'm amazed you could hear anything. I mean, on TV, that kind of scene always seems chaotic.

[ Her tone isn't skeptical -- more like she's inviting additional detail. ]

[ He chuckles, engaged and animated. ]

It is, but when you're in it every night, the din is a... a familiar blanket. Every noise a thread.

That sound pierced [ his fingers slice the air ] right through it.

[ It's genuinely infectious, the light in his eyes. Watching him talk about this reminds her of their expo weekend, when he enthused about "the ear," first to her and later to investors.

Compare it to the night he kidnapped her. The intensity when describing this thing he believes he heard was the same, but not the excitement. If she'd found out about it like this, instead of with the context of multiple murders -- what would she have thought? Where would she be right now?

What ifs. Hypotheticals. Fine for an argument; depressing for a prisoner. She pushes the thought away. ]

So where do you think it went?

[ The kettle clicks as the water reaches its final temperature. Bella turns to pick it up and fill their mugs. ] This guy's life.

[ Briefly, he too sees the Bella he knew before. His words aren't battling a barricade of fear and incredulity. She's really listening this time.

But the Bella from before isn't the same as the real Bella. Hap frankly doesn't know if he's even met her yet. Listening is a finely honed skill for both a sex worker and a captive, but the reality of that settles in differently. Less harmlessly. It pricks him when she lifts the kettle from its base. ]

That guy, I don't know. I was just sure he went somewhere. The tricky thing is, everyone is different.

What, we've all got our personal heavens?

[ Replacing the kettle, she pushes one of the mugs over towards him, frowning. ]

Or hells?

[ While it's true that experiences vary — some are calm and peaceful, others frantic and frightening — Hap doesn't like to ascribe elements of reward and punishment to them. He hasn't found consistent causal links to the lives subjects have lived. ]

Our own other sides.

[ He reaches for his mug, his thumb incidentally brushing hers in the handover. ]

[ Her gaze drops down to the touch, or the place where the touch just was, before she draws back her hand.

(She misses touching him. She misses touching anyone, really, even herself. The camera in the bedroom hasn't deterred her from changing her clothes, since Hap's seen it all before, but it has kept her from doing anything more than that. The idea of masturbation has crossed her mind, sure -- out of sheer boredom as much as anything, sometimes. But she can't find the drive for it. It would feel tawdry, when Hap has been so determinedly chaste towards her since they got here.) ]

Okay, "other sides." Fair enough. Non-judgmental and non-denominational.

[ She picks up her own tea, cradling it to her chest with both hands. ]

Do you know what yours is like?

[ Hap's gaze drops to his tea and he shakes his head with a touch of regret. ]

I don't. [ He doesn't have what they have. Natural insight. (Divine power.) He likes to think there is something special about him for having heard that unearthly sound in the first place. His gift is to be the instrument that taps the subjects' source. His burden is to do what has to be done.

With a chagrined smile, he looks at her again. ] And I can't.

[ They need him. She needs him. ]

Why not? You said you have a process for it. Couldn't you -- find a colleague to run you through it?

[ She smiles ruefully at her own stutter, clarifying, ] I guess it's hard to experience death temporarily without someone to get you back.

[ He takes his teabag by the string and swirls it, studying her face. Does she think anyone interested in this avenue of research is any more merciful, more pliable than him? She can't possibly. He's her best bet. Someone else is an unknown variable.

Someone else would be Leon and his efficiency can border on ruthless. Hap can't leave her in his hands. ]

It's too risky. Remember? [ He told her the failure rate is much higher for someone who hasn't experienced it before. It was a stressful evening, though, as frictionless as she made it seem. He's trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. ]

I remember you saying you can't make me a subject, I think.

[ Her earlier unease has mostly settled, and more than anything now, she seems genuinely curious. She has other motivations, yes: rebuilding rapport and trust, understanding Hap's motivations. But the whole discussion is, on its own merits and in spite of its darker aspects, interesting. ]

What are the risks? Besides the obvious that you might not come back.

Is that not enough? [ Hap asks on a disbelieving laugh. There is also the possibility of coming back damaged, which would be a kind of death for him as well. It would impact the work. He needs to get as much done as he can before age really starts to exact a toll on him and, by extension, it. ]

[ Bella snorts, nodding in acknowledgement.]

Well, when you put it like that.

Have you read Plath?

[ An intrigued grin. ]

A long, long time ago.

It just made me think of "Lady Lazarus." I'm trying to remember it. [ She cocks her head, glancing off into the middle distance, and recites, ] "Like the cat, I have nine times to die." And then somewhere in there it's ... "Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels real. I do it so it feels like hell."

[ She's got some of the lines mixed up, not that she knows it. When she finishes, she ducks her head with a sheepish grin and sips her tea. ]

"Out of the ashes I rise with my red hair, and I eat men like air."

[ She remembers it better than he does. Hap mostly remembers the emotion it struck him with. (It was a girlfriend who coaxed him into reading more of Plath after undergrad. She had dark hair and fair skin too.) Vigor, to discover his fixation reflected in someone else's words; and lust, to translate his own intense curiosity into such a keen understanding. His smile softens and darkens.

He clears his throat. ]

I forgot how evocative she is.

[ Hap glances away, ostensibly to check how much time is left to steep, and sanitizes his expression. ]

Maybe I'll order a book or two.

[ She glances up when he clears his throat, catching the tail end of his smile, and immediately looks away. The awkwardness of reciting a poem -- not very well, to her mind, since she can't remember most of it -- collides with hot, surprising victory at what she thinks she sees in his expression.

Get him back on your side.

If this is what does it, good. ]

Mmm. I think every girl I knew in undergrad had the exact same existential crisis when we read The Bell Jar. Watching our figs wither.

Do NOT touch my snacks.
If they don't kill you, I will.

[ The Pie-Go-Round is easily the most popular and obviously-edible (one might even charitably say appetizing) of the lodge's automat offerings. At present it sits vacant, lights dim and interior still rotating despite the lack of a single pastry to display. At eye level, a note on El Royale stationary is affixed with a single piece of tape. ]

Valued Guests, The contents of this case reached their time and date of expiry this afternoon, and were promptly removed per company policy. Our vendor, however, is undergoing an emergency with their delivery vehicle and won't be out to restock until Wednesday afternoon. The Auto-Wich 9000 and Fruit-O-Matic are still stocked, but we apologize regardless for any impact this may have on your stay. We will of course be happy to provide a list of reputable local restaurants and grocers upon your request - please ring the bell at Reception. Managem Miles.

We do not store ancient relics in the fridge.

Agreed. It’s a tragic commentary on modern reverence when a relic is placed beside ranch dressing.

There is something very disrespectful about it.

Have you run across this problem yourself?

On that note, uh, don't eat the leftover tamale.

................................

What was in the tamale? It was kind of dry.

No. No, dude.

And I'll say it in Spanish.

No.

I mean, it was a little dry but it wasn't that bad.

You ate a bat, man.

[dananananananana...]

........no.

It was a tamale.

You're fucking kidding me.

I don't kid about tamales.

Or mummified pets of a departed pharaoh.

WHY WAS THAT IN YOUR FRIDGE?

What, you want it to rot?

IT HASN'T BEEN IN A FRIDGE IN THOUSANDS OF YEARS

should I go to the urgent care or something?

Nah. If you ate it you'll probably just fart out the dust.

Edited 2025-05-29 19:05 (UTC)

You're a fucking asshole.

I hope you choke on ketchup.

Joke's on you, I don't eat ketchup.

And I don't eat bats.

I guess we're at an impasse.

Uh, not really. You still ate the bat.

Though if you want to think of it as dust I guess that's okay.

Marc

Why would eating dust be any better?

Do you even use your brain?

Dust isn't a bat, use your brain.

You need to mark things in the fridge.

No, I'm Marc.

[He thinks he's funny.]

TONIGHT’S FRIDGE RAID
WILL BE JUDGED

PRESENTATION COUNTS
BONUS POINTS FOR FLAIR

loser cleans the knives >:)

Edited 2025-05-26 16:19 (UTC)

The yogurt on the top shelf is mine. The strawberries in the bottom drawer are also mine.
The drawer itself is mine.

Consider this a boundary.

Three notes:

1) Hoffman - if you touch my energy drinks again, I will fucking kill you.

2) the beginnings of a grocery list:

- Tea
- Coffee
- Ramen

3) Wildcard, you pick what it is.

Edited 2025-05-25 18:36 (UTC)

If you use the last tea bag it is your responsibility to get the company card and buy more.
Unless you are Martin and made tea for everyone, in which case he already made tea, somebody else can do it.
I cannot as I’m VERY busy today.
- Jon

Edited 2025-05-25 20:56 (UTC)

did you check the fridge

Bucky Barnes | MCU

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thank you for the softball

Lmaooo poor Bucky

every thread he gets some questionable piece of modern slang

He's so lucky. They're simply helping him lol

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