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exsiliumlogs2013-07-08 07:13 pm
crossbearing) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-07-08 07:13 pm
Entry tags:
We were born and raised in a summer haze
Date & Time: backdated to a few days after bombapalooza, 1pm-ish
Location: Helena's place
Characters: Helena & Jaime
Summary: one does not live off cereal from a box, sir
Warnings: gratuitous Adele lyrics and the eternal peril of CAPE ANGST
( She'd thought it was funny, after living in Sicily for so long, that people bought sun dried tomatoes, and for such exorbitant prices. You did it yourself, you bottle them, easy.
In Exsilium, there's not enough Sun, and she's not so convinced that she'd be able to find a jar of them sort of sacrificing a limb.
Add it to the list of problems with Exsilium: a serious antipasto deficiency.
Stephanie has already been subjected to multiple dinners (and has made some abysmal attempts at making pasta that were practically an insult to Helena's heritage), and she's wondering how to get Robin to come along with the others. Pulling together would be safest.
She'd never really seen herself as much of a host, but these things happen. Just as well she's taken on her mother's penchant for cooking her way through problems. (Never let it become public knowledge that the Huntress does, from time to time, indulge in some comfort carbohydrates. They just make thinking easier.
Helena's rubbing her hands on a dish cloth as she strides to the door. )
Come in.
( And immediately turning to move back down the corridor, because the sauce, Jaime. ) I'm glad you could make it.
( She's much less Gotham than as the Huntress, when no traces of Sicily are allowed into her speech. Gotham is still there, of course it is, but the division is accent is as useful for secret identities as anything else. )
Location: Helena's place
Characters: Helena & Jaime
Summary: one does not live off cereal from a box, sir
Warnings: gratuitous Adele lyrics and the eternal peril of CAPE ANGST
( She'd thought it was funny, after living in Sicily for so long, that people bought sun dried tomatoes, and for such exorbitant prices. You did it yourself, you bottle them, easy.
In Exsilium, there's not enough Sun, and she's not so convinced that she'd be able to find a jar of them sort of sacrificing a limb.
Add it to the list of problems with Exsilium: a serious antipasto deficiency.
Stephanie has already been subjected to multiple dinners (and has made some abysmal attempts at making pasta that were practically an insult to Helena's heritage), and she's wondering how to get Robin to come along with the others. Pulling together would be safest.
She'd never really seen herself as much of a host, but these things happen. Just as well she's taken on her mother's penchant for cooking her way through problems. (Never let it become public knowledge that the Huntress does, from time to time, indulge in some comfort carbohydrates. They just make thinking easier.
Helena's rubbing her hands on a dish cloth as she strides to the door. )
Come in.
( And immediately turning to move back down the corridor, because the sauce, Jaime. ) I'm glad you could make it.
( She's much less Gotham than as the Huntress, when no traces of Sicily are allowed into her speech. Gotham is still there, of course it is, but the division is accent is as useful for secret identities as anything else. )
because it is HUGS FOR EVERYONE
[He's relieved that she didn't mention that particularly embarrassing moment just as they're getting comfortable with each other. There are some things that absolutely kill any sort of amicable mood they've been building, and one of those things is remember when you were inadvertently naked in front of me?.
He still doesn't know how to adequately explain the Scarab to others without it sounding horribly creepy. There's always this presence in the back of his mind that has the capacity to control everything from his hormones to his body, but he doesn't really mind these days. There's only so many ways you can describe becoming friends with the sentient presence at the back of your mind, however, so he doesn't typically bother.]
The Scarab's always on whether I've got the suit on or not.
EVERYONE? THAT'S A LOT OF HUGS MAN
Maybe it'd be good to start from the beginning, with this one; she clears her throat, setting her fork down for a second as she wonders what exactly it being on means. )
How'd you wind up with that thing, anyway? Lucky dip?
HE CAN HANDLE THOSE, HELENA HANDLES THE DROP KICKS
[There isn't really a nice way of putting it, honestly. Just because he's ceased to be creeped out by the Scarab doesn't mean everyone else isn't. He drags his fork across his plate, then says,] I found the Scarab and thought it was, I dunno, some sort of artifact or sculpture or something, so I took it home.
And then it burrowed into my spine. [Even though one hand is still holding onto his fork, he still manages to splay the fingers of both of his hands in a facsimile of jazz hands.] Ta-daaa, instant powers.
WHAT A GOOD TEAM
On the other hand, he's not from Gotham. Maybe everything is a little warmer and fuzzier outside of Gotham. )
It burrowed into your spine?
( Kudos to them for avoiding nudity, but spine burrowing is also not really dinner table conversation. Jesus. )
Burrowed?
( Burrowed! No! That's not okay! She's going to need some more wine, but probably after Jaime has left. )
Oh my God.
good cop bad cop that's the way to do it
[Like it ratcheted itself along his vertebrae? That it's currently clinging on and can - and has - been taken off by a set of very sharp and knowledgeable claws?]
...you know, it doesn't really matter. It waited until I was sleeping, so I didn't feel a thing anyway. Which was. Considerate?
Logical. The Reach did not wish for their host bodies to come to any harm.
[To Jaime's credit, he's at least very quiet about it when he mutters,] Shut up, you're not helping.
terrifying cop and adorable cop, I think
Burrowing, though. Seriously, that's creepy. Admittedly getting his with Scarecrow's methods and all the rest of Gotham life hasn't really made her a fan, but anything involving your body and a lack of permission doesn't really fly by her. She makes a face, and just claims some more garlic bread. Carbohydrates will soothe away the pain. )
Really considerate.
( And then a sidelong glance. ) Does it do that when you're at school?
( Because damn. ) Just so we're clear, if that thing is ever not attached to you, I'm having words with it.
( Is that a joke? Or is she serious? No, she's trying to make it a joke. But she is totally serious, though. )
like being cornered by a puppy and a dinosaur
[Unless it has something to do with helping him on a test, in which case the Scarab often remains conspicuously silent. Which is just tragic, because having a web browser more or less plugged into his spine ought to be good for something.
He pauses to cram a good hunk of lasagna into his mouth, because it's truly tragic to ignore all of this amazing food in lieu of talking about important things, honestly.]
You're having words with the Scarab now, anyway. You just can't hear what it says unless it's, uh. Attached.
[Okay, moving away from the creepy spine-burrowing territory now. He helps himself to some of the salad on the table entirely of his own volition, because believe it or not, even a teenaged body craves some vegetables on occasion.]
See, this is when my mom would be yelling at me about dinner conversation. We don't really do bugsuit talk at the kitchen table.
that is so perfect a summary of them idek how to cope
( His words prompt her to, very briefly, wander what it would be like to have something sentient attached to her that she didn't really have control of - it didn't seem that way, after what she saw of Jaime in action during the bombings. It goes against the grain, makes her stomach churn. No, she's happy to be the Huntress rather than something more. If something happened, she knew it was on her, for better or worse. )
Your parents know?
( Curiouser and curiouser. )
and the best part is the puppy has a nuclear arsenal at his disposal :')
[For all that it's dispensed as a joke, Jaime's being completely serious. It's not that he sucks at keeping a secret identity - okay, so he really does sucks at the secret identity thing - but his mom just so happens to be a very protective force of nature. If she didn't find out on her own, she'd guilt him into it. Mom guilt is like magic.]
They're cool with it.
in this film the role of Jaime will be played by Dug
( A bit of a smile, extremely amused. ) I like the sound of your mom.
( it's a difficult thing. After so long, talking to others about their parents is easier than thinking about hers. She knows for a fact, though, that Franco Bertinelli would have died before letting his daughter go on as a vigilante, that her targeting of the families that he was the leader of would not have been remotely acceptable. And her mother, she doesn't know; Maria Bertinelli had lived her life in fear, especially for her children. She wonders, sometimes, what her life would have been if her parents had lived; if she would have been married off to Tony Angelo or some other mobster's son, political alliances in the same way her mother had been married to the Bertinellis. She wonders if her brother would have made it out, if her father really would have ever thought her anything more than just a daughter, if she would have wound up a leader of the families rather than their destruction.
She's fairly sure she'd never have been able to become a teacher, at any rate, and she sips her wine. )
I'm impressed. ( That he managed to get them to be cool with it. And a little concerned that they're cool with it, but maybe it's more complicated than that. Jaime does seem exceptionally laid back, himself. Less damaged than so many of them, hopefully less isolated. ) Do they understand all the implications of what we do?
( The risks, the fall out. )
and Helena can probably just play herself as a t-rex 8)
Of course they worry. But they get it. I mean, even if I didn't ask for the powers, I've got them now. I can either do nothing when I know I can help people, or I can go out there and do it.
[It's simple, laid out like that. He knows he can die doing it, just like Ted died, but he's read Ted's notes and he thinks the guy was onto something. Once you choose this, it's not about you anymore. Jaime doesn't want to die. He loves life, and his family, and his friends, and yeah, he loves the whole hero business now too, but it's about everybody's lives.
He would have died if Booster hadn't come in and saved him at the last minute with the Reach, but he still knows it would have been worth it. He hopes his family would have seen it the same way.]
accurate
A little smile, a sip of wine, and she's pushing away her plate for a moment. )
I hope you get back to them soon.
( He could do a lot of good here, but he shouldn't be separated from his family. That is far too painful a thing. )
no subject
[He says it lightly, but that's mostly because he's discussed this with a few other people already - he wouldn't feel comfortable with just going home and giving up, even if he had the option to. To go and live in ignorant peace, going to school and fooling around with his friends when an entire world here can be destroyed is tempting, sure, but it's not the right thing to do.
They'll have to win, eventually, and then they'll go home.]
no subject
( With time being so messed up and with the things she's heard, his comment makes her briefly - very briefly - what it would be like if her parents turned up here. The dead do arrive, sometimes, apparently.
Her only conclusion is that it would be simultaneously wonderful and horrific, before she brushes the thought away, standing to retrieve the next course. It's not as lavish as she'd go for a big event, but Jaime is still a guest and one who she is concerned lives entirely on food rescued from cardboard boxes and foil wrappers, so she's gotten a little enthusiastic.
One magical timeskip and pile of food later, she's dwelling on less dark things and grinning a little. ) Ever had cannoli?
( Yes. There is more food. She doesn't even care if she's fulfilling a stereotype, it's fun to indulge stress-relief cooking and the urge for hospitality once in a while. )
no subject
[That is the sort of self deprecating statement that Jaime's heard from girls at school before after eating about a quarter of what he tends to inhale, but unlike them, Jaime did justice to his status as a teenage superhero. He's no metahuman, but give him a good meal and he sure can keep up.]
I might've had them. Aren't they, like... pasta tubes?
no subject
( So flippant. Whatever, Jaime. )
That's cannelloni, usually. ( Whoa there Helena, that was even more Italian than usual. She keeps explaining as she wanders to the cupboard, grabbing some powdered sugar and a sieve, and then to the fridge.) They come from the same root word, though. "Canna" in Latin means "reed." Cannelloni is a big reed, cannoli is a regular reed, I guess. And then there's manicotti, which are sort of similar.
( "Sort of similar." She would say they are rather different, but Americans. No, instead she is setting a plate down on the counter and dusting whatever is one it with the sugar, before bringing over those things that turn out to be some delicious Sicilian pastry tubes filled with ricotta. ) Now, these are cannoli siciliani.
( And there is a pile of them. They aren't huge, but there are a lot. )
no subject
Uh huh, [he says, a little absent during the language lesson though the Scarab is an annoyance in the back of his head, rumbling its way through extremely clinical translations.
Probably to annoy him, but he can't possibly be annoyed in the face of pastries. He helps himself to one and takes a bite.]
Okay, it's settled. You're my favourite. Don't tell anyone.
no subject
( So, so dry. She is, however, undeniably pleased, and she helps herself to a couple of them, too. )
So, you're all right with coming over here sometimes instead of living off stuff in packets?
no subject
He just doesn't care most of the time, so yeah, the way to his heart totally includes crappy food. He looks undeniably pleased at Helena's offer, however.]
Oh, totally. I can help next time? I didn't know how serious you were about cooking.
[Jaime, don't offer. Helena, don't let him into your kitchen.]
no subject
( Good work, kiddo. With a little shrug, ) If you want. I'm thinking about setting up an entry exam, though.
( Batgirl cannot ravioli, Jaime. She just cannot ravioli and Helena felt vaguely insulted.
No, okay she wasn't that bad, and the effort was cute, but Helena can still make fun of her forever. )