xp_logs | You didn't see this. Now give the devil his mittens. (Reply)

John is pottering about in the kitchen, almost frenetically at first glance, darting from stove to oven and back again. He sees Em in the doorway, and raises an eyebrow. "You look like shit," he says dryly, before swearing and running over to the oven, pulling on a mitt so he can remove the tray and set it down on a rack to cool, the cheese on toast still sizzling away slightly as he works at the big pot on the stove. There is a place set on the small kitchen table, all properly laid out with cutlery and salt and pepper and a soup bowl and side plate.

Em stops walking and leans on the doorframe for a moment. "Thanks," she says with a little smile. "For being honest, of course." She takes in the scene and shakes her head slowly. "You're... impossible." She walks over to the chair and sits herself down carefully.

John serves her two slices of toast on the side plate, before picking up the bowl and, after tasting, ladeling a goodly sized portion of tomato soup into it, returning it to her place. Shutting everything off, he washes his hands and turns the chair opposite her around, straddling it, the remaining piece of toast in his hand as he quickly scarfs it down. "Go on," he says, nodding, "I might be a little rusty, but it's non-toxic."

Em looks down at her plate and then back up at him. "I can't believe you, John Allerdyce." She picks up a piece of toast and dips it in the soup, then takes a bite. "Perfect," she says when her mouth is empty. "Really. Thanks."

John grins, somewhat goofy, nodding, as if everything turned out just the way he expected it to, and got up off the chair, turning on the water to do the dishes. "My pleasure, Scarlet." Wearing bright yellow washing up gloves, and busy at the sink, he does look somewhat domestic. "I learned all this stuff; I had better use it somehow."

Em picks up the soup spoon in her left hand, a little awkwardly. "Well, of course. Just making sure you hadn't lost your touch?"

John's back is turned to her, and he considers his options, washing bits and pieces of crockery in the soapy water before dumping them on a rack to dry off. "Well. I wouldn't have done it for anyone else," he says softly.

Em stops eating for a moment and regards him, taking in the set of his shoulders and the tone of his voice. "...I see. I really appreciate it, John. Really," she says equally softly. She frowns a little. "Have you been... well, I'm sure you haven't been /okay/ really, but have you been managing? Are people being decent to you?"

John does laugh at that, just a brief snort. "Well, the ones that actually bother to give me the time of day, are good. Which is to say no-one. People...are big with the avoidance right now. One of the few people who actually has time for me is Angelo, and that's" - You could hear the grin in his voice - "possibly due to ulterior motives."

Em stifles a laugh. "Ulterior motives, eh? That didn't take you long." She shakes her head again and her voice is full of good humour. "John Allerdyce, Impossible Man. Well, I'm glad you're getting some positive reinforcement for returning to the school." She picks up another piece of toast. "I hope it's helping you adjust to being back here." Her expression is mischevious.

"Oh, Angelo just wants me for my body, I'm sure," John agrees demurely, and wiggles his hips just a bit. "Not that I'm complaining, cause having someone appreciate the Walking Wonder of Sexuality that is me, y'know, is long overdue." He rolled his eyes at the last comment, and turned to face her. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm not gonna run off again."

"Well, that's a relief," she says tartly. "Seeing as how I'd like to avoid the whole dragging your ass back here song and dance. Also, it was bloody boring without you. Everyone's either as cheerful as Barney or gloomy as Eeyore. It was irritating not having you here to argue with."

"If everyone else's either Eeyore or Barney," John begins, "does that make us the Power Rangers or something, cause lycra? Not my thing."

"Ew, no." Em finishes her toast and goes back to her soup. "No, I'm thinking more like the Two Angry Beavers or something." She looks genuinely thoughtful. "I haven't watched cartoons in /ages/."

"I grew up on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." He laughs again and leans back against the bench. "That probably explains a lot."

"Ooh, I remember that show. I loved it... but the movie was so much better." She sighs. "I haven't thought of that show in years. We should rent the movie... but it might bother some of the kids. What do you want to bet people are going to try and ban it for being politically incorrect?"

"There were three movies," John says automatically, before he buries his face in his hands. "I am /such/ a geek. But hey, sure. Defying authority is my middle name, right?"

Em shakes her head. "John, you are a geek. And you are a good cook. And I will take those secrets to my grave, you have my word. And I do think that we need to defy authority and laugh in the face of political correctness and rent all three movies."

"The third one is crap though," John grunts. "I mean, it's not even fun crap - well, you have to be in the mood for that level of tacky, really. But hey, I'm in."

"Well, then we can have a proper row about that in public to make everyone think that we're back to normal." She grins.

John moves forward, hovering over the table. "Have you finished eating?"

"All done." She shows him her empty dishes with a smile. "That was good. Thanks."

John takes them and slides them into the sink. "See, I think we shouldn't fight. We should be all happy and shit, cause God knows that will make /everyone/ freak out."

Em ponders this. "Hmm... that's true. You're more devious than I am, John. I'm all for distressing people that way. I'm tired of them thinking they know me, anyway."

"Admittedly, they'll probably start poking us with things sooner than you can say 'pod people' but I figure it's worth it." Dishes all done, he empties the sink with a gurgle and removes the washing up gloves. Gesturing to the exit, he gives her a florid bow, like a courtier. "What's say we knock 'em dead?"

Em gets to her feet carefully, smiling at him. "Sure thing. Why not?"