Amity is bumping around the kitchen, as usual. It's cold so of course she's bundled up. Slippers, fuzzy flannel pants, cozy cable knit sweater. It's her day off and she's going to enjoy it, god damn it. She has a fresh pot of coffee on and is messing about with a pan on the stove, a few pieces of bacon already crackling away as she starts a late breakfast. Yep. Lazy morning. Be a shame if someone or something were to interrupt that.
Well, if there's one thing Widget is good at, it's that. She's a heatseeking missile of day-fuckupery and general mayhem, happy to home in on Amity's peaceful start to her day. Partially. It's really very cold out and Widget doesn't like that /at all/. Oh, she still comes over. it just takes her a bit to get out of her oversized winter clothes. Not all that shabby, really. When you work with what she does, quickly peeling layers off can mean not being on fire anymore. Now she's just got on- Nope, still cold. Time to loot a robe from the bathroom. Amity's fits her better so that's what she goes with. Perfect! Okay. /Now/ it's time to be a gremlin. By piping up from behind Amity with a hungry and admittedly-worrying hiss of "...Bacon?"
Amity yelps. She's not expecting someone else in the house and sound of 80s pop music from the bluetooth speaker on the counter has covered the sound of Widget's approach to the kitchen. She jerks, spinning around with her spatula raised in a defensive posture--and oh God it's just Widget. "Widget--oh my God, you scared me half to death!" She pauses. "Is that my robe?"
Widget gets spooked as well, leaning away from the spatula in an improbable show of flexibility. "Did?" There's a war on her face, one happy it spooked Amity and the other concerned about. Mostly because she might not get bacon. But did you see her face it was like 'blah!' hehehehekehehehehehekekekekeke- Ahem. Widget slams the levers in her brain back into place, flickering eyes sliding over her robe. Then back up. "Yes!" It fits! See? See?
Amity sighs and reaches over to the pack of bacon on the counter. Yes, she knows that Widget will want some and so before the question is even /asked/ she drops a couple more pieces into the hot pan with a sizzle and crack. "...You should ask permission before you wear other people's clothes, Wij," she says with a small smile. "Would you like coffee?"
"Oh. Want it back?" The offer of coffee is the only thing that keeps her from just removing the robe right in the kitchen and handing it back in a grime-and-rust stained crumple. Likely before looting something else to wear. But she'd ask! But coffe, though. "Yes." Her response lands like lead. Nobody ever. EVER. Gave Widget coffee. This was a big deal! She had a hard time stealing it, too. For some reason people always had their java on lock.
Amity pours out a cup of coffe (a *small* one) for Widget and offers it over to the gremlin. She's gonna have to wash that robe now--but she needed to do laundry anyway. She smiles slightly. "How have you been?" Widget posed at 11:58:Widget is happy with whatever she gets, hopping to sit on the counter and enjoy her drink. It's a good thirty seconds before she speaks up again, the rusty woman staring at her cup like it's telling her a story. "Good. Been busy. Thank you. For training with Clarice? She needs that. Sometimes." Fiddling with that ring, the gremlin nods and smiles back. There's some serious nerves in there. "B-but! Mavis? You?"
Amity tilts her head, brow furrowing for a moment as she tries to figure out what it is that Widget is trying to ask. She glances at the pan, makes sure the bacon isn't burning, then sighs. "Of course. I'm happy to help out how I can, really. And it helps me, too." She pauses. "What about Mavis and I?"
"Doing okay? Tricky. With mortals. Always say bad stuff. Ruin secrets. Fun. Always fun. But bad. Know it. Both of it." Widget's eyes crackle sharply, eyes flitting to windows and doors before she keeps on. Said too much? Doesn't know. She wants to know. Why she can't makes her want to burn things sometimes. Try. /Try/ and handle this right. "...Tell her?"
Amity blinks at that and looks very tired for a moment. Smiles. "...Yes. I told her the other night." She seems... not exactly relieved by that but at the least she seems like some sort of weight is off her shoulders. Widget posed at 12:09:Widget nods, hugging her knees a bit. "...Good?" Her face crinkles, awkardness showing. Whatever this conversation is about to her even she can tell she's in /way/ over her head. "Not...mad? No screaming? Stabbing? Looking at walls for a long time?" "Ensorcelled her, right?"
Amity shakes her head. "No, no. None of that stuff. And no, I didn't ensorcelle her. I just showed her what's behind my mask." She chews at her lower lip for a moment, a rare outward sign of anxiety. "But she knows now."
Widget pauses, fidgeting like her skin is about to come off. Her mouth opens and closes, unsure what to say. When she does speak up it's in Spanish, works comign quickly but much more smoothly than before. "Okay because I never told Bronwyn and she loved me and then we got attacked at a wedding and I died two times and she had to be ensorcelled and she didn't stop screaming for three days and started drinking and I don't know where she is now and her house is empty and I like you a lot and don't want her getting hurt and then it happened again with Charlie and she loved me too and made it better and we went and ate and had baths and then it was a /lie/ and she was a /Fetch/ and real-charlie said I was a monster and made her a monster and threw up looking at me and then went away too."
Huff. Huff.
"...b-but that's good..."
Amity pokes at the sizzling bacon. Flips it. And she listens. And what she hears makes her heart break. She looks back at Widget after a long moment, sets the spatula down, and leans over to give the gremlin a hug. It's tight and warm and she doesn't let go for a few long moments. She replies in the same language as Widget, even if her accent is more Castillan than anything from this side of the Atlantic. "I'm so sorry, Widget. I had no idea. That can't have been easy for you." She releases the Gremlin and frowns. "I... I got lucky? Mavis seemed to take it really well, honestly."
Widget hugs back, shaking lightly. She's not one to talk that much, so it was a bit of a verbal haul. Emotionally, she'll bounce back. It's one of the only things she does well, really. "Thank you." Widget squeezes back, morphing back into a small skinny person who never got told her real name until it could hurt her. She sniffs, wiping her face and unscrunching. "Good. Please keep her safe. They know, somehow. They always do." Hm. Heh. "Used Wizened magic on her?" Fingerwaggle. She had to get /something/ in. Really helped her, being a git.
Amity leans against the counter with a small roll of her shoulders. Does her best to smile. "I'm going to do everything I can. Thinking of nailing iron over each doorway, maybe. At the least. The back yard is full of St Johns Wort, too. I think Mavis' grandmother knew something was up here. Or at the least was... tuned in." Amity rubs at her face, then smiles. "Wizened magic? What's THAT supposed to mean?"
"Has the basement. Knew /something/." Back to English. Spanish was all well and good but she really needed to get better. Maybe course? Surely she could succeed in an academic setting with strict rules. "Hand magic." Widget smirks, sticking out her tongue before going back to her coffee. "Or other parts. Toes. Dunno."
Amity's cheeks turn pink as the other wizened explains and she shakes her head before turning to start moving bacon onto a plate. "Ugh." She's busy for a moment, then looks back at Widget. "I'm not saying /anything/ unless you give me your word you won't tell anyone."
Widget smiles sharply, a whisp of magic leaking out with the exhaust on her breath. "Promise. Means something. Has power. Like...a word...pledge?" The imp leans to watch the bacon getting plated up, looking like a small harbinger of gluttony. Glorious fried swine. So greasy. So salty. "Can give tips! Keheh."
Amity picks up a piece of bacon and munches on it, then slides the plate over to Widget. She had been planning on eggs too, but... never mind that. She rolls her eyes a little. "Mostly it's her fingers and whatnot that are getting a workout, that's all," she finally says after a moment, cheeks burning. "Don't tell her I said that to you. In fact, don't mention this conversation at all."
Bacon awwww yeh. Widget digs in like a starving dog, pausing only to laugh. It's...kind of nice, really. It's not her usual infernal cackle. This a god deal sweeter, encouraging. "No telling. Just us. But...happy for you. Can give you stuff. For other workouts. And...um..." This conversation has not meant Widget isn't blushing like a fire truck. She's gotten herself flustured. Not usually around to talk about this stuff with...anyone. "...Yes." Cough. "N-not good. At that stuff. Just...know where...to find that stuff." Cough cough. Hrm. Yeah, maybe don't talk about this one.
Amity nods back at the gremlin. She seems content to nibble on her lone piece of bacon and sip at her coffee. Nothing too exciting. She can always make more and hospitality is important to her. She goes quiet for a long moment, then adds:"I think Mavis talked to November about this stuff. Changelings, I mean. Not, uh. Sex. She's been texting me about her." Widget posed at 13:16:"Oh! Oh. Good. November is a teacher. A good one. Scary. But good. Yes." Widget finishes her plate, returning to a less vivid shade. That, in her terms, was like someone who couldn't drive trying to start a dynamo with what they've peeked at while nobody was looking. Which she'd also tried to do oh goooood oh nooooo- "...thanks for the bacon." Quiet steaming, brain overheating. Gah. Why did people have to teach her about /embarrassment?/
"Scary is the right word for her," Amity agrees and finally finishes her own piece of bacon. Smiles. "Happy to provide. You're welcome here, you know? Just knock, please." Widget posed at 13:22:"Fair. No getting hit with coffee machines. Or walking into kitchen stuff." Pause. "Polyamorous?" Ha! She /finally/ got to use that word! Ha! Yes! Way better than what she was using before. "Not me! Not me. ...Audra?" Widget peers. How does /that/ work? Also it's about this time one might realize coffee tends to make Widget...impy.
Amity scoffs for a moment, but her cheeks are turning pink anyway. "I don't know about Audra," she says after a moment. "Just that she showed up and used our bathroom to take a shower in without warning the other week. It was /weird/." Just not gonna mention her casually chilling out naked in front of the fireplace. Widget posed at 13:34:"Oh. So. Just has..." Stutter. "Stuff here. Like the shower." Widget isn't judging at all. It's more of this bizarre need to try and know everything about /everything/. Wait. "Have a shower?" Was that...was that like....a new thing for her? It's a point of great wealth, judging by her tone.
Amity tilts her head at Widget for a moment. Blinks. Stares. "Yeah. We have a bathtub with a shower in the other room. Do you... not have a shower?" Widget. Widget, baby,
"No! Why?" Widget shifts on the counter, trying to nab more bacon. Now that she's closer...yeah, it's clear she doesn't. Well, if she does she doesn't /use/ it all that much. She's been clean around Amity before so /somebody/ is making sure she has a modicum of hygiene but... It's been a few days. In heavy winter clothing. With Widget's industrial-accident biology. It's oddly caustic in the nostrils. "Hot water is...the /best/. Yes. So hot tub. But get yelled at. Make the water sting."
Amity shakes her head and then sniffs, points out towards the bahtroom across the living room. "Alright--you're taking a shower. Get in there and scrub yourself clean. You need it--" She tugs at Widget, starting to try and urge her out of the kitchen and towards the other room. "Go! Get cleaned up! I'll wash your clothes! Hop to it!"
Gah! No! Her layers! Her protective coating! She feared this! She feared thiiiiiissssss!
There's some light hissing, but Widget still wanders off. Kind of. First she steps out of the robe and hands it to Amity like it's nothing. Which it clearly isn't because she's not wearing anything under that thing. And it is /toast/. Unless Amity knows the thermonuclear equivalent of bleach to douse it in. And Widget's /main clothes/ are a war crime.
"....ok'y....gonna....fix it..."
Ad-hoc plumbing modification, ho!
Amity takes the robe and looks at it with a quiet sigh. She's going to do her best to clean this. She moves out towards the living room, stooping to pick up Widget's other discarded clothing and glares at Widget, snapping off in her best authoritative voice:
"Do NOT fix anything. Widget, you are a guest and the /only/ thing you are to do in that bathroom is shower. Understand?"
Bu- It- Th- Bu-
Okay.
Huh, that actually worked like a charm. Widget receds into the shower in whichever bathroom she's been directed to, looking at everything in the cabinets and /lookig/ at the plumbing at least. Actually pretty solid. Go figure.
Now that Amity is picking up Widget's clothing and has seen /entirely/ too much of the gremlin, two things are clear. One is that Widget has been run through the ringer, the woman forgetting that her rust covers a /lot/ of wounds. Dog bites, gunshots, stabbings, contusions, burns, the works. And that she's decided to make sure she's ready. Her clothes are oddly heavy, like she's stuffed them full of...whatever is in there. Could just be the crunchy texture or that it folds at angles when moved.
Amity gathers up the various layers and heads back into the kitchen to the laundry nook. Each garment is shaken out as best they can be, the pockets turned out to make sure nothing is left in them and then each garment stuffed into the washer one after the heather. A healthy amount of detergent is added and the washer is set to 'heavy duty' and then started. That done, she darts upstairs to steal some clothes. Mavis is closer to Widget's height, but Amity is scrawnier. She decides on a pair of boxers and a tank-top from Mavis' closet and a ratty sweatshirt and sweatpants from her own closet. She pokes her head into the bathroom and sets them down on the toilet.
"There are clothes for you when you're out, Widget," she says and then ducks back out to go make sure her washing machine isn't killing itself with... whatever the hell it is Widget wears.
Oh, good, Amity turned out the Jumpsuit. It's a zip-type full-body affair, ancient and entirely too large for Widget's frame. As in, 30's? 40's? No name left, no real marks. What it /does/ have are pockets. Sown in when there wasn't enough, too. How else was she going to hold in all the /stuff/. Bottle caps, weird metal bits, coins, wire, ammuntion, a .45 pistol, a .25 pistol, a single-shot zip gun, ammunition, a homemade grenade, illegible blueprints, dog treats, a crumpled pin-up poster, keys, snacks, so on and so forth. She was like half-junk.
And that's the jumpsuit. It's like a combo of a dumpster and the ATF's worst nightmare in that washing machine.
Widget wanders out undressed, fussing over the dryer. Was everything okay? Was her stuff okay? It was all here? All of it? Yes? Okay. O-okay. Just gonna get the clothes on now.
WAIT WHERE WAS TH- Oh there it is, behind the nine-volt pile.
"They're still washing," Amity reassures Widget. "I'm trying to get them as clean as I can." The pile of weird things that came out of the pockets is sitting there, neatly organized. Bullets sorted by caliber and everything! "Feel free to sit around if you like. I want you to be as clean as I can manage. It's the least I can do."
Yay! Hugs! Widget's rust is a lot less, showing normal brown skin. Not the worst hug, really. She's warm and doing that engine-purring thing she does. Not /super-clean/ but mostly it was because hot water was awesome and she got distracted. There's a wrecked bar of soap in there, though. "Thank you! Yes. Very nice. To me."
Amity returns the hug and smiles. Bright, satisfied. Someone who has done a job and has done it well. "I like to help. If you ever want to use the shower, just text me or something and you're welcome to it. I'd rather that you enjoy a hot shower and get clean," well, clean-ish, "then go without, okay?"
"Okay! Yes. Be here a lot." Widget nods, holding out her arm. It's already rusted over again. The smell is back, purely mechanical. Low-level constant grime. "Always does that...." The gremlin looks at her hand, eyes fizzling softly. Her eyes trail down to her arm, the rusty thing snuffling at the cloth. Huh. "Mavis's?"
"The shirt and underwear belong to her. The sweatshirt and sweatpants are mine," Amity explains with a small smile. "I just want you to be safe. ANd happy. I know, tall orders with lives like ours but I'm doing my best..." She heaves a small sigh. "Want me to put on a movie or something?"
Widget tilts her head. "...Oh! Here." The imp hands the boxers and the tank top to Amity, reaching into the kangaroo pocket where she stored them for whatever reason. "Feel safe here. Yes. Old house. Sturdy. Seen a lot. Done a lot." Giving one of the walls a fond pat, Widget perks up and turns back. "Movie? Yes! ...With popcorn?"
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