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Early Morning Kitchen - Jay, Match, and Sharon
Jay meets Match and Sharon for the first time and comes to a technically correct conclusion.
A few rounds of gaming after his after work nap meant Match was in the backup kitchen, poking through things to see what would give him the most calories. He had to remember to restock at the bodega. A familiar creak of someone entering the kitchen still caused him to freeze and he peered warily out of the pantry.
A guy he didn’t recognize. With wings. Immediately a scowl formed. He’d heard about a man with wings from Jessica, and had no interest in actually meeting the man. But he was in the doorway. “Oh. Hi.” Short, simple, now he could take his can of corn and walk past him.
Jay also hadn't been expecting to run into anyone in his late night wanderings, having come down to one of the kitchens to not wake Sam up while he made himself midnight breakfast. He didn't want to be interrogated about his inability to sleep at night or possible nightmares.
"Hi. Pardon me," Jay said, equally unenthused as he stepped into the kitchen, wings brushing just past Match.
A half-jump back at the feeling of feathers brushing against him. He didn’t like that. Immediately the slight warmth around Match flared to an uncomfortable heat. “Dude, can you control those things?” His tone implied he didn’t believe the man could. “I’m not Jessica, I’ll roast your ass if you do that again, Warren.”
"Sorry, still ain't used to having 'em out all the time-" Jay started apologizing, before turning, an incredulous look on his face. "Wait, Warren?" Jay thought about his employer's reputation for a moment before shaking his head, slightly insulted. "I ain't him. That's my dumbass boss."
“Well tell your dumbass boss to leave my boss alone!” Match countered immediately, unwilling to let himself feel embarrassed by his mistake, but the fire had gone out of him, figuratively speaking. The scowl lightened some as he thought, trying to make sense of Jay’s words. “Uh, I’m Match, sorry, I… you just manifest? You look a little old for that.”
"Nah, I've had 'em for years, I just used to bind them down," Jay explained. "Didn't have them out much where other people could see..." He folded his wings in self consciously, vet tape he was still using standing out against his wings. "Still getting used to having 'em out proper."
As the man explained, Match’s face took on a distant, thousand yard stare; internally questioning what it was about him that adults would explain things about their pasts to him, details he had no idea about nor understanding. And Sharon wasn’t around to explain things to him. So he nodded slowly, before starting to respond as he’d seen others do. “Ah, okay, makes sense. So you just have wings like Warren. I light shit on fire.”
"That's really something," Jay said encouragingly, even as he thought about just how dangerous that could be. But then, maybe that's why the kid was here and not at home, wherever that was for him. He squashed any half formed thoughts about the connection between fire and hell- not the boy's fault any more than it was Jay's he was a mutant.
“Yeah, it’s something alright,” Match echoed bitterly. There was a speech he’d half-listened to when he arrived, the importance of learning and all that, but he wasn’t about to try and tell anyone what to do. “They got free food, clean beds, and it’s easy to get into the city if that’s what you want, but I guess if you work for Warren you must be here on some work thing?”
"No. I came for unrelated reasons," Jay said, really not wanting to get into it with someone he estimated to still be a teenager. "You said you're working for someone- you here for a work thing?" He asked, meaning more to the mansion as a whole.
"Hmm, I see" and Match nodded again when Jay said he was there for unrelated reasons. "Nah, I got a job here, guess this place is good for that, because god knows it's hard to make a living off selling cans, even if you collect a lot." A part of him briefly wondered if what he'd just said was normal, maybe he was overexplaining his life. "You from around here or? I mean, you kinda have an accent."
Jay nodded at Match's mention of selling cans, a complete lack of judgement. He'd known plenty of people who sold cans. It didn't strike him as something odd at all. "You ever find a wine bottle with a decent neck, I'll take it. Been lookin' to make a new slide for my guitar," he said. Jay nodded at the mention of his accent. "You're the one with an accent t'me," he said. "I'm from Kentucky."
"Oh, I don't really do that anymore, I mean, not seriously, but I can keep an eye out." He had no idea what Jay was talking about, though that seemed to be how this conversation would go. "You're gonna get a lotta accents here, then, we got people from all over-"
And whatever he was about to say stopped immediately as he registered something. A looming feeling. Familiar? His head cocked to the side slowly as he began to edge towards the door of the kitchen. To peek around the frame. "What're you doing, Cats?"
"Offering gentle correction. Is the rest of you who speak with accents here. I am a New Yorker."
Sharon padded past Match and into Jay's line of sight. She was in her hybrid form, drawn by the presence of people in the kitchen for longer than thirty seconds. This was often an opportunity.
"Jay Guthrie," she intoned, gazing at the man with her slit-pupiled eyes, "last of our ever-growing concentration of Guthries. I am Sharon. Is indicated to me this warning should be given."
"Don't be so sure-" Jay said, starting a quip about how there were five more back home before cutting himself off when he actually looked at her. Now this girl was a beast and there was no way in a frozen over hell that this wasn't sort of divine punishment, some cosmic joke. He could hear his childhood pastor comparing mutants to devils and the thought wasn't easy to brush away when he looked at her.
The poor thing.
"Well I'll be."
A tail flicked lazily. "You will be Jay Guthrie? Yes. This is understood." Shoulders rolling beneath her fur like pistons, Sharon stalked into the kitchen. She took a seat in the middle of the kitchen floor and raised a pink nose to sniff. "Your brother and sisters I have met. Only you remained unseen. To your knowledge," she added, ominously.
That was something a demon would say, that was a threat. Jay didn't like the idea of being watched at all and unconsciously puffed up his wings to appear bigger and more threatening. "Well I'll thank you t' not slink about without my knowin' in the future." He had some annoyance, not just with Sharon, but with his siblings for not warning him about some sort of panther with human hands.
Then, the fire boy- Match- didn't seem unsettled by her at all. What had he called her? Cats? Apt name.
“She’s a cat,” Match stated rather bluntly, confused by the man’s change in demeanor. “It’s what they do. Get better hearing if you don’t wanna get startled.”
Though he turned to Sharon rather seriously. “You heard him, Cats, you can’t be creepy to him like Jono.”
Sharon, who had been studying Jay's reaction with something worryingly like amusement, flicked her tail at the comment. "To what do you refer? I am the most normal. But since is husband's request . . ."
The cat sat back on her haunches, and an instant later a plain-faced young woman in a grey romper was crouched in her place. In one fluid motion she unfolded to draw herself to her considerable full height -- which just so happened to be several inches greater than Jay's.
"This form is suitably without slink, maybe?" she inquired, her slit-pupiled eyes fixed on Jay's.
Jay had to look up at her and her panther eyes and couldn't decide if this was more or less unsettling than if she was a panther creature at all times. At least her hair was still purple, so there was a tell there.
He glanced back to the boy. "Y'do have a point there," he said as reconsidered him with the knowledge that he was this creature's husband.
It was taking a lot of conscious thinking to change his automatic thought of fire and creatures being hell-ish. These were just people and it weren't their fault they were like this any more than it was his. And even if the three of them had done something to deserve of it, none of them had picked what they got. He wasn't about to let himself be a bigot.
He smoothed out his wings. "Sorry. Now, y'got the advantage of me with knowin' my name already."
"Is my nature to ensure this is so. Knowledge is power in a treacherous world, and I am at times only little." Sharon looked Jay up and down with the naked curiosity of one whose response to the fiery plane of Hell would have been an attempt to touch it. "I remain Sharon Smith, but many names are mine. Catseye also, or Cats. Lately 'Sharon, No'. This is usually screamed. Your own preference shall be formed in time."
"It's good t' meet you," Jay said diplomatically. It was easy, somehow, to see someone screaming at her to stop something. He got his drink out of the refrigerator, and looked between the two again. In a way, they made a handsome couple. They seemed to be the same sort of person too- and Sharon seemed to care for the guy. He doubted she listened to many people. Maybe the reason Match was here was her, he thought to himself. "I'll let you two be?"
Match looked from Jay to Sharon, confusion beginning to return as he was faced with the question. "Huh? I mean, it's a kitchen, I assumed you probably wanna make something- Oh. Cats, I got canned corn, can you show me how to make the salmon and veggie rice balls from that youtube video?" Whatever had been going on in his head took a right turn as he looked at the purple haired girl, still a cat to him, though with much better cooking skills.
"Of course. This is my conjugal duty." Sharon gave Jay a look of deadpan solemnity. "You must excuse us now, Jay Guthrie. I must see to husband's nutritional needs. Is only proper."
He was pretty sure she was yanking his metaphorical tail (could you say that about someone with a real tail?), but Jay also was pretty sure he'd be third-wheeling on the young couple of he stuck around. He grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and the whole package of strawberries."I'm set with this, thank you," he said, careful to pull his wings in as he passed them on his way out- after all, he'd been pounced by one cat already.
The two of them seemed sort of sweet, in a way, even if he weren't convinced the girl wasn't some sort of demon. He didn't want to interrupt their honey-moon phase.
A few rounds of gaming after his after work nap meant Match was in the backup kitchen, poking through things to see what would give him the most calories. He had to remember to restock at the bodega. A familiar creak of someone entering the kitchen still caused him to freeze and he peered warily out of the pantry.
A guy he didn’t recognize. With wings. Immediately a scowl formed. He’d heard about a man with wings from Jessica, and had no interest in actually meeting the man. But he was in the doorway. “Oh. Hi.” Short, simple, now he could take his can of corn and walk past him.
Jay also hadn't been expecting to run into anyone in his late night wanderings, having come down to one of the kitchens to not wake Sam up while he made himself midnight breakfast. He didn't want to be interrogated about his inability to sleep at night or possible nightmares.
"Hi. Pardon me," Jay said, equally unenthused as he stepped into the kitchen, wings brushing just past Match.
A half-jump back at the feeling of feathers brushing against him. He didn’t like that. Immediately the slight warmth around Match flared to an uncomfortable heat. “Dude, can you control those things?” His tone implied he didn’t believe the man could. “I’m not Jessica, I’ll roast your ass if you do that again, Warren.”
"Sorry, still ain't used to having 'em out all the time-" Jay started apologizing, before turning, an incredulous look on his face. "Wait, Warren?" Jay thought about his employer's reputation for a moment before shaking his head, slightly insulted. "I ain't him. That's my dumbass boss."
“Well tell your dumbass boss to leave my boss alone!” Match countered immediately, unwilling to let himself feel embarrassed by his mistake, but the fire had gone out of him, figuratively speaking. The scowl lightened some as he thought, trying to make sense of Jay’s words. “Uh, I’m Match, sorry, I… you just manifest? You look a little old for that.”
"Nah, I've had 'em for years, I just used to bind them down," Jay explained. "Didn't have them out much where other people could see..." He folded his wings in self consciously, vet tape he was still using standing out against his wings. "Still getting used to having 'em out proper."
As the man explained, Match’s face took on a distant, thousand yard stare; internally questioning what it was about him that adults would explain things about their pasts to him, details he had no idea about nor understanding. And Sharon wasn’t around to explain things to him. So he nodded slowly, before starting to respond as he’d seen others do. “Ah, okay, makes sense. So you just have wings like Warren. I light shit on fire.”
"That's really something," Jay said encouragingly, even as he thought about just how dangerous that could be. But then, maybe that's why the kid was here and not at home, wherever that was for him. He squashed any half formed thoughts about the connection between fire and hell- not the boy's fault any more than it was Jay's he was a mutant.
“Yeah, it’s something alright,” Match echoed bitterly. There was a speech he’d half-listened to when he arrived, the importance of learning and all that, but he wasn’t about to try and tell anyone what to do. “They got free food, clean beds, and it’s easy to get into the city if that’s what you want, but I guess if you work for Warren you must be here on some work thing?”
"No. I came for unrelated reasons," Jay said, really not wanting to get into it with someone he estimated to still be a teenager. "You said you're working for someone- you here for a work thing?" He asked, meaning more to the mansion as a whole.
"Hmm, I see" and Match nodded again when Jay said he was there for unrelated reasons. "Nah, I got a job here, guess this place is good for that, because god knows it's hard to make a living off selling cans, even if you collect a lot." A part of him briefly wondered if what he'd just said was normal, maybe he was overexplaining his life. "You from around here or? I mean, you kinda have an accent."
Jay nodded at Match's mention of selling cans, a complete lack of judgement. He'd known plenty of people who sold cans. It didn't strike him as something odd at all. "You ever find a wine bottle with a decent neck, I'll take it. Been lookin' to make a new slide for my guitar," he said. Jay nodded at the mention of his accent. "You're the one with an accent t'me," he said. "I'm from Kentucky."
"Oh, I don't really do that anymore, I mean, not seriously, but I can keep an eye out." He had no idea what Jay was talking about, though that seemed to be how this conversation would go. "You're gonna get a lotta accents here, then, we got people from all over-"
And whatever he was about to say stopped immediately as he registered something. A looming feeling. Familiar? His head cocked to the side slowly as he began to edge towards the door of the kitchen. To peek around the frame. "What're you doing, Cats?"
"Offering gentle correction. Is the rest of you who speak with accents here. I am a New Yorker."
Sharon padded past Match and into Jay's line of sight. She was in her hybrid form, drawn by the presence of people in the kitchen for longer than thirty seconds. This was often an opportunity.
"Jay Guthrie," she intoned, gazing at the man with her slit-pupiled eyes, "last of our ever-growing concentration of Guthries. I am Sharon. Is indicated to me this warning should be given."
"Don't be so sure-" Jay said, starting a quip about how there were five more back home before cutting himself off when he actually looked at her. Now this girl was a beast and there was no way in a frozen over hell that this wasn't sort of divine punishment, some cosmic joke. He could hear his childhood pastor comparing mutants to devils and the thought wasn't easy to brush away when he looked at her.
The poor thing.
"Well I'll be."
A tail flicked lazily. "You will be Jay Guthrie? Yes. This is understood." Shoulders rolling beneath her fur like pistons, Sharon stalked into the kitchen. She took a seat in the middle of the kitchen floor and raised a pink nose to sniff. "Your brother and sisters I have met. Only you remained unseen. To your knowledge," she added, ominously.
That was something a demon would say, that was a threat. Jay didn't like the idea of being watched at all and unconsciously puffed up his wings to appear bigger and more threatening. "Well I'll thank you t' not slink about without my knowin' in the future." He had some annoyance, not just with Sharon, but with his siblings for not warning him about some sort of panther with human hands.
Then, the fire boy- Match- didn't seem unsettled by her at all. What had he called her? Cats? Apt name.
“She’s a cat,” Match stated rather bluntly, confused by the man’s change in demeanor. “It’s what they do. Get better hearing if you don’t wanna get startled.”
Though he turned to Sharon rather seriously. “You heard him, Cats, you can’t be creepy to him like Jono.”
Sharon, who had been studying Jay's reaction with something worryingly like amusement, flicked her tail at the comment. "To what do you refer? I am the most normal. But since is husband's request . . ."
The cat sat back on her haunches, and an instant later a plain-faced young woman in a grey romper was crouched in her place. In one fluid motion she unfolded to draw herself to her considerable full height -- which just so happened to be several inches greater than Jay's.
"This form is suitably without slink, maybe?" she inquired, her slit-pupiled eyes fixed on Jay's.
Jay had to look up at her and her panther eyes and couldn't decide if this was more or less unsettling than if she was a panther creature at all times. At least her hair was still purple, so there was a tell there.
He glanced back to the boy. "Y'do have a point there," he said as reconsidered him with the knowledge that he was this creature's husband.
It was taking a lot of conscious thinking to change his automatic thought of fire and creatures being hell-ish. These were just people and it weren't their fault they were like this any more than it was his. And even if the three of them had done something to deserve of it, none of them had picked what they got. He wasn't about to let himself be a bigot.
He smoothed out his wings. "Sorry. Now, y'got the advantage of me with knowin' my name already."
"Is my nature to ensure this is so. Knowledge is power in a treacherous world, and I am at times only little." Sharon looked Jay up and down with the naked curiosity of one whose response to the fiery plane of Hell would have been an attempt to touch it. "I remain Sharon Smith, but many names are mine. Catseye also, or Cats. Lately 'Sharon, No'. This is usually screamed. Your own preference shall be formed in time."
"It's good t' meet you," Jay said diplomatically. It was easy, somehow, to see someone screaming at her to stop something. He got his drink out of the refrigerator, and looked between the two again. In a way, they made a handsome couple. They seemed to be the same sort of person too- and Sharon seemed to care for the guy. He doubted she listened to many people. Maybe the reason Match was here was her, he thought to himself. "I'll let you two be?"
Match looked from Jay to Sharon, confusion beginning to return as he was faced with the question. "Huh? I mean, it's a kitchen, I assumed you probably wanna make something- Oh. Cats, I got canned corn, can you show me how to make the salmon and veggie rice balls from that youtube video?" Whatever had been going on in his head took a right turn as he looked at the purple haired girl, still a cat to him, though with much better cooking skills.
"Of course. This is my conjugal duty." Sharon gave Jay a look of deadpan solemnity. "You must excuse us now, Jay Guthrie. I must see to husband's nutritional needs. Is only proper."
He was pretty sure she was yanking his metaphorical tail (could you say that about someone with a real tail?), but Jay also was pretty sure he'd be third-wheeling on the young couple of he stuck around. He grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and the whole package of strawberries."I'm set with this, thank you," he said, careful to pull his wings in as he passed them on his way out- after all, he'd been pounced by one cat already.
The two of them seemed sort of sweet, in a way, even if he weren't convinced the girl wasn't some sort of demon. He didn't want to interrupt their honey-moon phase.
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