Log: Lorna and Namor

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Namor and Lorna meet to discuss Namor's eating habits and other things.



It was a Mexican Standoff of smiles.

There had, of course, been pleasantries. Yet somewhere in the formality and small-talk, Lorna Dane and Namor Mazur had settled into an unbroken awkward silence. The latter sat there, hands folded politely on his lap, and considered how long this might last. He had received a few notes from her — the first couple matched with a secondary cancellation and smilies — yet here they were.

He smiled a little more.

"First I like to say I am sorry for canceling this meeting with you so many times. I don't normally do that but things just seemed to have gotten in the way." Lorna looked over at Lili, her dog, who was sleeping in the corner. "So I am Lorna, mistress of the entire kitchen and everything in it. I also make the meals and like to have a nutrition plan for all residents inside the manor." Lorna smiled at Namor. "Basically I just want to know what you are allergic too and if you have a food preference. The Kitchen is open for anyone to use really but I do most of the inventory and makes sure nothing is running low."

"Miss Dane, you provided a valuable and admirable service here. So many people's health to manage," the warmth from Namor's smile was infused in these words. Until it wasn't: his smile abruptly faded, all humor draining from his features. "I consider eating fish to be cannibalism."

"I just make sure they eat their greens and not overload on sugar." Lorna smiled faded as well as she stared at Namor for a couple of seconds. "Cannibalism?" At that moment she was trying hard not to smile as she bit her lower lip. "All fish? Seafood?"

Namor was experimenting with humor here, and wasn't really positive how long to keep his serious face glued on. “Anything larger than a slice of bread that has eyes.”

Picking up her pen, Lorna started to write something down in her notebook. She had heard strange request in her life but this made the top five. "Okay. No fish with eyes. Anything else? Do you eat veggies?"

"I'm joking," Namor said defeatedly. "I'm... not good at jokes. I grew up near the sea. I've had more seafood in my life than most other meat."

Lorna broke out into a chuckle. "I was wondering if you were. I have heard you like the pool but you don't look part fish. And I will admit, you had me there." The green-haired woman set down her pen and lean back into her chair. "Well we have a lot of assortment of meats - fish, beef, chicken, deer meat…."

Namor's posture slackened (minutely) as he wasn't trying to keep the pretense of seriousness afloat past his usual stiffneckedness. He smiled a little honestly than before, "Variety makes life interesting."

"And food not dull. So no food allergies…" She picked up her pen once more to make a few notes before tearing out the paper and heading over the cabinet. "How do you like the mad house? Finding everything out okay?"

“No allergies,” he replied mark of factly as Lorna traversed the room. “I’m discovering things slowly. Like how the kitchen isn’t the safest place in the middle of the night if you are feeling antisocial.”

Lorna turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, "The kitchen not being safe? What do you mean? Was there someone else down here?"

For this she got a "yes" like it was horribly obvious where he was going with it, but Namor decided it may be best to add some more clarity. "I am used to a quieter household. There's no telling who you might run into at any given hour here."

Lorna relaxed a bit in her chair, "Well yes. There are people hear the have different schedules and some people have trouble sleeping. I was afraid you were going to say Kyle and Wade were making a mess of the kitchen again. They tried to make chicken and waffles once, it was a disaster." The green haired woman paused for a moment, "You will always find me here in the kitchen during regular hours. So don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

“I’ve only really used the kitchen for coffee and tea so far. A confession: back home I wasn’t allowed near the stove. I burn anything I try to make.” He matched this with a smile as if this was a common family story often shared with a laugh.

There was fear in Lorna's eyes when he said he would burn anything he tried. She wanted people a chance to make their own food but if they burned things, it was best to leave it to her. "Well, dinner is served around 5pm and I start putting things away around 6:30 or 7. It gives people enough time to come down. Breakfast is around6am to 9am, and Lunch starts around noon."

Namor gave a short, barking laugh in response to the look that crossed Lorna's face. "Don't worry," he said while working to compose himself once again, "I learned to leave food to the experts long ago. I could practically see the mansion burning down in your expression."

"It has happened more than once." She said regarding the burning down. "The kitchen." She added quickly. "Not the mansion. At least not to my knowledge."

"Did it burn as the result of a demon invasion, was this another incident?"

"Different incident." Lorna said thinking upon it. "Lets just say that I call it a madhouse for a reason. Nothing to worry about though."

"You hear that a lot around here," Namor mentioned dryly. He loathed making obvious statements. "At what point do people start worrying?"

Lorna looked at Namor for a few seconds before smiling. "You will know when it happens." She didn't want to sound ominous but she also didn't want to make the guy worry. Looking back down at his file before picking it up and putting it away in the drawer. "Hungry?"

She received a flat look in response to her first statement. It seemed like everyone here at the mansion just accepted impending danger. Namor knew, however, that holding the staff nutritionist to task for this was a poor idea. He liked food. "I like food," he offered. "Which is... yes. Sure."

"Great. Follow me." She walked right out of her office which was connected to the kitchen. "What are you in the mood for? We have a little bit of everything."

"I would never want to impose, Miss Dane." And he didn't, but she was moving and now he was moving in tow.