Doug and Topaz
Apr. 20th, 2021 11:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsDoug and Topaz go for their usual post-therapy noodles, and Topaz tweaks Doug's nose about eating one-handed and accepting help.
Topaz didn't make a secret of trying to hide her phone as she unhelpfully texted Marie-Ange for advice on how to handle the current... situation, as it were. She left her phone in her lap as she turned her attention to her lunch, unsuccessfully pretending she did not see Doug losing a fight with chopsticks.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up, read the response, and said, "So, there are several options here. You could swallow your pride and ask for a fork, but assuming that's not going to happen, I think I've seen kids using those practice rubber chopsticks before. Little holders for your fingers and everything."
Doug's one arm was in a sling, and his tongue was out with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fumbled the chopsticks in his left hand. "I've seen pictures of those things," he muttered. "They look absolutely ridiculous." He was feeling stubborn, and a bit put upon. At least she hadn't taken any incriminating pictures of him yet.
Incriminating pictures, no. But Topaz' noodles had been abandoned in favor of looking up child chopsticks. "Are they any more ridiculous than this?" she asked, waving a hand. "Oh, you could get a set with a monkey. Probably in whatever color you want. Or Hello Kitty. Isn't that popular sometimes?"
The glare as Doug looked up from his noodles was simultaneously heated and bemused. It was the sort of expression you could put on with someone you felt comfortable around, that sort of over-reaction to teasing that was in itself a form of teasing. "I will get a paper napkin and a goddamn rubber band first," he declared. Back when he was a kid, that was how he had learned in the Americanized Chinese places his family had gone. Fold up the napkin a bit, put it between the chopsticks, and rubber band the whole thing together.
Topaz' smile was softer, more sincere. "Will you at least let me put that together for you?"
Doug's first instinct was to grit his teeth and demand to do it himself, but he realized how much of a toddler that would make him look like. It wasn't always easy, accepting help from others, particularly after they had dangled Hello Kitty in front of you, but turning it down at every turn was a worse way to go through things. And if he was going to roll his eyes at Laurie for being abrasive and passive-aggressive, he should at least work to not be a hypocrite. "Okay, yes," he said finally.
Someone must have been watching, because a rubber band appeared on their table before Topaz even had to ask. She took a minute to focus on her work before handing it over. The teasing was done, at least for the moment.
Once he got used to it, the left-handed chopsticks were much easier to use with the separator and elastic. Doug was reasonably sure some money was changing hands in the kitchen over how long it had taken him to accept help. To be fair, if it had been him working in food service, he'd have been betting on those sorts of things. "I'm pretty sure Dr. Grim has given up trying to figure out what I'm going to come in to talk about him next after this," he nodded down at the sling.
"That's a game he's never going to win," Topaz asked dryly. "Never think it can't get weirder, right?"
"I know I stopped thinking that a very long time ago." Some days Doug really felt the weight of the years spent at the mansion. Norse gods, Russian assassins, mutant supremacists, the ghost of Nikola Tesla...he wasn't exactly blase about it, but it took a fair bit to shock him anymore.
"Could be worse." She stopped to take a bite of noodles. "I'm not sure how, and I'm not going to try and guess because that feels too much like challenging the universe. But I'm sure somehow, it could be worse."
Topaz didn't make a secret of trying to hide her phone as she unhelpfully texted Marie-Ange for advice on how to handle the current... situation, as it were. She left her phone in her lap as she turned her attention to her lunch, unsuccessfully pretending she did not see Doug losing a fight with chopsticks.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up, read the response, and said, "So, there are several options here. You could swallow your pride and ask for a fork, but assuming that's not going to happen, I think I've seen kids using those practice rubber chopsticks before. Little holders for your fingers and everything."
Doug's one arm was in a sling, and his tongue was out with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fumbled the chopsticks in his left hand. "I've seen pictures of those things," he muttered. "They look absolutely ridiculous." He was feeling stubborn, and a bit put upon. At least she hadn't taken any incriminating pictures of him yet.
Incriminating pictures, no. But Topaz' noodles had been abandoned in favor of looking up child chopsticks. "Are they any more ridiculous than this?" she asked, waving a hand. "Oh, you could get a set with a monkey. Probably in whatever color you want. Or Hello Kitty. Isn't that popular sometimes?"
The glare as Doug looked up from his noodles was simultaneously heated and bemused. It was the sort of expression you could put on with someone you felt comfortable around, that sort of over-reaction to teasing that was in itself a form of teasing. "I will get a paper napkin and a goddamn rubber band first," he declared. Back when he was a kid, that was how he had learned in the Americanized Chinese places his family had gone. Fold up the napkin a bit, put it between the chopsticks, and rubber band the whole thing together.
Topaz' smile was softer, more sincere. "Will you at least let me put that together for you?"
Doug's first instinct was to grit his teeth and demand to do it himself, but he realized how much of a toddler that would make him look like. It wasn't always easy, accepting help from others, particularly after they had dangled Hello Kitty in front of you, but turning it down at every turn was a worse way to go through things. And if he was going to roll his eyes at Laurie for being abrasive and passive-aggressive, he should at least work to not be a hypocrite. "Okay, yes," he said finally.
Someone must have been watching, because a rubber band appeared on their table before Topaz even had to ask. She took a minute to focus on her work before handing it over. The teasing was done, at least for the moment.
Once he got used to it, the left-handed chopsticks were much easier to use with the separator and elastic. Doug was reasonably sure some money was changing hands in the kitchen over how long it had taken him to accept help. To be fair, if it had been him working in food service, he'd have been betting on those sorts of things. "I'm pretty sure Dr. Grim has given up trying to figure out what I'm going to come in to talk about him next after this," he nodded down at the sling.
"That's a game he's never going to win," Topaz asked dryly. "Never think it can't get weirder, right?"
"I know I stopped thinking that a very long time ago." Some days Doug really felt the weight of the years spent at the mansion. Norse gods, Russian assassins, mutant supremacists, the ghost of Nikola Tesla...he wasn't exactly blase about it, but it took a fair bit to shock him anymore.
"Could be worse." She stopped to take a bite of noodles. "I'm not sure how, and I'm not going to try and guess because that feels too much like challenging the universe. But I'm sure somehow, it could be worse."
