Texts had been sent. Arrangements were made. These texts and subsequent arrangements are the precursors to Widget being inside of Mavis' home and within that home's kitchen.
Mavis leads Widget through the house, shucking off her shoes and coat in the mudroom-- located through the front door-- and shedding her hoodie there, too. She doesn't really show Widget much of the house, apologizing for the clutter in a sheepish fashion before relaying directions to the bathroom-- down the hallway-- and luring her guest off to the kitchen. The human straight-away makes her way over to an antique, fridge wearing her mismatched, neon pink and yellow socks to guard against chilly hardwood floors. Mavis opens the refrigerator door and peers inside then tilts her head to peer back over a shoulder at Widget.
She lifts her voice a little so that the old fridge's hum doesn't drown her out. "Sorry that it's not, y'know, "breakfast time" but I figured we could have breakfast food?"
She gathers an armload of ingredients into her bronzed arms: eggs, butter, milk, unopened pack of bacon. Some frozen sausage patties are pulled out of the ice-box, a smaller door on the topside of the fridge.
Mavis goes on to add, conversationally, "I'm not much of a morning person, usually in a rush to get to work." Mavis nods to the table, ringed by wooden chairs. "Have a seat, if ya want. I got this. You're my guest, remember?"
Widget follows closely, eyes flicking to everything. A new house means new things to see means new things to touch means new things to watch for. So far it was lovely, look at all that stuff! Clutter to Widget was just unorganized loot. No apologies needed.
"Breakfast is when you eat breakfast. Yes. Food is food." And what food it is! The imp watches closely, head listing. "Guest?" She still sits, swinging her legs and looking around. "Nice house. Old. Lots of stories. Yes."
The mortal shoots Widget a curious glance as she unloads her arms on the counter. "Yeah, my /guest/," she tells the grease-monkey, emphasizing the word. "Hospitality and stuff. While you're here, you are /my guest/ and I look after ya. So just get cozy while I-- Hm."
She trails off, pausing to hunt for a couple of pans to set on the burners of a gas stove that looked about as old as the fridge. Both of dated, kitchen appliances were certainly older than the user about to operate them. Mavis pulls a hair-band from around one wrist where it'd been hidden by her bracelets and pulls her glossy, black hair back into a loose, messy bun then gets to work, completely forgetting she'd been in the middle of talking before.
Mavis seems to know what she's doing as she gets the bacon going and drops some butter into the other pan once it, too, is hot."So," Mavis murmurs, feigning a cough while seeming genuinely flighty and coy. She turns around to face Widget, then squirms there on the spot. The dusky-skinned artist draws in a little breath intended to be committed to words, but she has to do this twice before she can muster the courage make her confession to Widget. "We might be having scrambled eggs, 'cos it's hit or miss if I'm going to break the yolks." She cants her head, suddenly acutely curious about something her scrawny friend had said. Mavis prompts Widget with a puzzled, "What'd you mean by stories? Did you know the old women who lived here?"
Important Insert: Mavis totally washed her hands before she touched food and after handling raw bacon.
The imp nods, eyes going a bit funny. "Hospitality?" The leaden weight of words sounds odd coming from the imp, but it shows she takes it seriously. Guest? Right, okay. No fires, then. In terms of being a gremlin Widget is sticking to messing with the appliances. They were...lovely.
"Yes. Stories. The refridgerator? And oven? And that fan. The lights. Wiring, must be. Old but used. Cared for. Still work. Lots of stories." Widget pauses, running her hands on the rusted metal plaque on the side of the old fridge. Did it...start running a little more smoothly? "Dunno the lady. Good taste though. In machines."
Wistful expression fading, her curiosity takes over Mavis starts cooking. "Eggs are good both ways. Yes. If you cook, it's good food. Made for good reasons. Yes." Widget smiles, fangs glinting as she looks at that bacon. Yesssss.
Amity arrives from the kitchen.
She listens to Widget translate what she had said before about the "stories" of the house, disappointed to hear that the gremlin meant the old things that filled it and not that she'd known her grandmother. "Oh," she goes, sighing and turning around to adjust on the stove to lower the flame under both pans. She picks up a spatula to poke a melting glob of butter around in the second pan, otherwise empty.
"Yeah, she was quite a character," agrees Mavis, sounding distant. It's no surprise she changes the subject back to simpler things with, "So scrambled eggs?" Pause. "Scrambled eggs."
Mavis gets crack-a-lackin' with them eggs, adding them to the pan and whisking the whites and yolks around. "Oh, did you want something to drink? We got juice in the fridge. I could put on coffee.. or tea," she adds after a moment of hesitation, trying to multi-task turning the bacon over in the pan it's frying up in.
Amity slouches into the kitchen (as much as she slouches, anyway), her blazer on a hanger that dangles from one tired hand. She's mid-stride into the kitchen, eyes half-closed. "Mav, something smells /delicious/ in here," she says before her brain catches up to the fact that Widget is also in the kitchen and she comes crashing to a halt as her brain catches up with the reality she's seeing. Blink. Blink. "...Hello, Widget."
"Scrambled eggs." Widget giggles, closing her eyes to listen to the food start to cook and scent up the kitchen some. Ah, the glorious sizzle of melting fat. She knew that sound well. Didn't matter how poor you were, if you were cooking over a trashfire on the side of the highway, you could usually get some type of fat. Crisco kept, even stuffed in a pack and humped along the interstate.
Eggs were tricky (Fresh ones, anyway) and bacon was /rare/. All valued, all will be eaten. And coffee. Well, might as well have been boiling gold.
"Coffee. Please. Yes." Nobody gave her coffee! Ever. For some reason. She's about to get up to try and help, pausing as Amity wanders in. The fellows Lost gets a hug, the gremlin laughing brightly. "Hi! Live here too? Yes. Hi."
At Amity's arrival, Mavis pipes to her brightly, "Hey, sunbeam! That's prob'ly the bacon you're smelling, universal lure." The mortal's warm expression betrays a moment of uncertainty when that shock hits Amity and Mavis' honey-brown eyes flicker from Amity to Widget then back again. She wasn't sure what to say to either of them but then Amity identifies the trash-gremlin who goes over to hug her. Mavis tries to hide a grin and, quickly, she sets to putting on the coffee Widget requested with nary an idea of the consequences.
"Sorry, I meant to tell you I was bringing home a stray," she pauses, giving Amity a sly over-the-shoulder with an arch-of-the-brow look. "Seems like you two are friends, though. Want to join us, Amity?" She actually sounds sincere in asking this and turns to stare pleadingly at Amity to /help her/ manage Widget while she's busy not burning breakfast-for-dinner.
Amity smiles and returns Widget's hug, then replies to her in Spanish. "<Yes! I live here, too. I just moved in, actually.>" She glances over at Mavis, then moves towards the coffee machine with a determined stride, aiming to beat the other woman there. She's going to help and be hospitable, dammit. She fills the empty pot with water and pours it into the appropriate receptacle on the machine before she fishes the grounds out from where ever it is that they're kept and loads the filter. "Let me help out. I live here too. I have to be hospitable to our guests!" She actually smiles at that remark, turning back towards Widget once she punches the 'start' button on the coffee maker.
"And I'd love to. I'm starving--work wasn't busy, especially, but I had to wrangle a few people who came up to watch leaves change colors and got picky about their service." She sighs and shakes her head, looking exasperated for a brief moment. "Widget is a dear, really. <A sweetheart!>," she takes Widget gently by one arm and nudges her back towards a seat at the table. "How do you like the house?"
Widget beams, smoothly replying in Spanish. Might be odd for Mavis to hear her speech patterns chance instantly, but there it is. <"It's a very nice place! Mavis thinks so too. Maybe tell us about the old lady who owned it sometime.>" The gremlin nods to the fridge as if that explains it, allowing her arm to be taken.
She leans a bit, smiling at Amity. All smiles. She hasn't /stopped/. Gah. Almost annoying, really. "The house? Love it. Very old. Sturdy. Has history. Yes. Lots." She colors slightly as her brain catches up to the compliments. Oh, you. "Sweetheart?" Oh, right, Spanish was a thing now. Sweet. "<Okay, Sunbeam.>" Kehehehe.
A sharp look is directed at the pair when Amity blurts out some Spanish then Widget rapid-fires something in return. Mavis blinks in reaction to that then lets Amity take over making the coffee, laughing at the bespectacled woman's insistence. She's scoots back over to the stove, yielding to the fearsome Amity Millikan, and glances over her shoulder as she stirs the eggs.
"Amity," she goes then, sounding impressed, "I didn't know you spoke Spanish." Then again, lately it was starting to feel like she didn't know a /lot/ of things about Amity and before, which she wanted to return to, that hadn't bothered her. She grins as the pair continue to trade words, fluctuated from English to Spanish. "Sheez, that makes things a hell of a lot easier. And, thanks, Widget. The old lady that lived here was my grandma, I never met her. This stuff is all hers- err, well-- mine now." While Mavis talks, she scoots the bacon closer together and sets some sausage patties on a plate to thaw in the microwave. Even that was old, it's a miracle all of this stuff still works.
Amity shoots a glance towards Mavis, part apologetic, part fond smile as she tries to keep two conversations going at once. Oh God. Internally, she's fretting over this strange meeting that she had one hundred percent NOT been ready for when she came home tonight. She's distracted by Widget joining in on the pet names thing and her cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink. She tries to wave the other woman off, unable to seek refuge in either of them for the moment. "You don't have to call me that, too," she insists to Widget, then looks over to Mavis again. "I picked it up a few years ago. I'm out of practice, though." If she considers this out of practice, then she's... pretty good. "<Mavis can tell you about the house--I don't know much about it,>" she adds casually.
Widget gives Amity a decidedly smugger grin that before, along with a shoulder bump. "Aw. New name? Yes. One for me. Ummmmm..." The imp peers at Amity. Well. Hm. Sunbeam was pretty apt. Lots of gold. "No. Sunbeam now. Too pretty. Too bright. Only way."
Cackling, the girl pauses before piping up again, leaning against Amity a bit too closely, voice to quiet. She's not subtle when she's trying to be /sneaky/. "<Know about us?>" Just in case. Back to Mavis, hopefully it's not entirely suspicious. "Other people here? Two?"
Mavis realizes once the eggs are finished before everything else that she should have timed things better, but then she'd gone and let herself get into a sulk about her dead grandmother and dropped them into the hot pan anyway. How pathetic. Ugh! She corrects this mistake with the eggs by fetching a bowl from a cupboard and scooping the fluffy, yellow eggs into it. A fork gets stuck into the bowl and Mavis brings it over to the table.
"Here, Widget, want some eggs? Meat will be done in a few minutes," she estimates and, assuming before Widget even answers, sets the bowl down on the table with the contents still piping, steaming hot. Mavis flicks a glance at Amity that's.. more than a "glance", it's an outright stare. An accusing stare. The mortal felt excluded and the teensiest bit like the pair were talking about her in Spanish right under her nose, but she could prove nothing. In addition to that, here was Amity in the kitchen with her and Widget, of all people. She breaks off the icy stare to answer Widget with an overly casual, "It's just me, you, and the sunbeam here, Widj. And I thought she'd like being called "sunbeam" as she only complained about the last nickname."
Amity's cheeks seem to be permanently pink with the way people keep calling her 'Sunbeam.' She's gonna get you for that later, Mavis. Just wait! She glances over to the still running coffee pot briefly, then back to Widget. "<No, she doesn't know anything. She's just a normal person. I'm trying to keep her out of that business. We should stick to English now.>" Amity replies in a normal conversational tone, as if Widget /hadn't/ just tried to be sneaky. It's dangerous for mortals. And Amity doesn't want Mavis to be one of those poor people who gets the attention of the Gentry if she can help it. She moves back towards the coffee machine as the brew cycle comes to an end, her good mood wilting a little under Mavis' stare. She starts to pour out a cup of coffee.
"Why am /I/ Sunbeam?" she asks, indignant, then looks at Widget. "Cream? Sugar?"
"Because you're always awake at the crack of dawn," answers Mavis, without missing a beat and posing out of turn just this once.
"Yes. A lot of it." Widget replies instantly about the food, likely to do the same about anything offered. Food was food and food was good. She sticks to English for now,
"Yes. A lot of it." Widget replies instantly about the food, likely to do the same about anything offered. Food was food and food was good. She sticks to English for now, giggling at Mavis. And Amity, of course. "Good name! Fits. Bright face. Hair. Glasses. So shiny. Yes." Soooo shiiiny....
Right, okay, eggs. Nomf. Narmf. Nom. So fast, so tidy, all the salt and pepper and ketchup. Swallow. "Both? Yes. Please."
Mavis reopened the egg carton on the counter, waiting this time before cracking them into the pan. She busies herself by going over to the microwave, to bring the thawed sausage back over to the pan with the bacon. The patties are placed in the grease by a pair of metal tongs, which Mavis deftly wields. Mavis then asks Amity, in a voice like nothing at all strange had passed between them just a moment ago, "Sunbeam, would you pour me a cup, too?" The human even peers over at her, smiling in a warm way with a mischievous twinkle in her golden-brown eyes while Widget wolves down the eggs without so much as puffing on them.
"You okay over there, Widget?" Mavis stops and turns away from the stove to watch the gremlin vanish the scrambled eggs into her mouth. "Careful, that's... still hot," she trails off, murmuring the last upon realizing that the caution was quite wasted, not to mention late. She blinks at Widget, bacon sizzling behind her and sausage popping in the grease. Deciding now's a good a time as any to inform Amity, Mavis looks over at her and says, "Widget's going to be dropping by once a week or so so's I can test out my cooking. Next time's pancakes."
"Lots of both, got it..." Amity pulls the sugar from one cupboard and the cream from the fridge and doctors up a cup of coffee for Widget. She meanders over, setss it down on the table next to the gremlin's plate, and then turns back to the coffee maker as she's requested for another cup of coffee. She pours it out and moves across the small space to stand next to Mavis, the coee cup set down on the counter in easy reach.
"Oh! Neat. Well, it'll be nice to have the company." Yep, she means that and definitely doesn't feel at all nervous about the prospect.
"Hm?" Widget looks up from her empty bowl, licking her lips. Wow. That was alarmingly efficient eating. But now she has /coffee/. That could only go well. Look, Widget's drinking it just as quickly. Surely this will have no effect on her outside of tasting new and interesting.
"Thanks. For letting me stay. Yes. Or eat. Not stay. Just..." Guh. She's entering a food coma and words are hard now. English, please don't fail her. "Come and eat. Yes. That. Very nice. Will make it fair. Yes."
The gremlin looks between Mavis and Amity, gears in her head ticking along. Amity looks worried. Mavis looked worried. Now that her brain was focused on consuming it had time to process things properly. Was it because she was a Lost? No, that was silly. Amity was a Lost too. Ummm. Oh. Oh! Oh, that made sense!
"Not gonna take her. Have someone! Yes." Patpat Amity. There, see? All good.
Mavis peers over at Amity with a smile when she drifts closer to set the coffee down within reach. "Thanks," she murmurs gratefully, moseying over to bump a hip against her roommate. She studies Amity's face just a little too closely for a fraction too long, but it could be the human's only now noticing her friend's pink-flushed cheeks. Or it could be the mortal is prying for a weakness. In either case, Mavis simply picks up her coffee and sips it while letting the bacon and sausage cook.
"Yeah, and!" declares Mavis, lowering her coffee mug, "Widget owns a junkyard, figured-" She breaks off, processing what the gremlin had just said. Mavis' cup of coffee lowers a bit more, forgotten, and she tilts her head. "Take me?" Mavis parrots, laughter bubbling. She looks back over at Amity, eyebrows shooting up. "Amity, what have you been telling her?"
Amity is good at concealing what she's feeling, usually. The fact that she's blushing a little is... well, it might mean any number of things. She meets Mavis' eyes for a moment and smiles, small and brief and utterly happy for just a fraction of a second before her attention gets tugged back towards the conversation. She stares at Widget for a moment. Wait--who was Widget referring to? Amity? Mavis?
"I didn't--I told her nothing like that," Amity insists. "I'm not--I mean, thank you, Widget, but I'm not worried about that. It's sweet of you to say that, though..." Maybe that will help deal with the odd shift in conversation.
"Do own a junkyard! Very big. Full of dogs. Yes. Come see! Yes. Lots of scrap." So proud of it, the gremlin puffs herself up a little. Aw yeah. She was the scraplord now. Fear herrr! Or maybe swap for stuff. Shiny things. Glorious things.
"Not worried?" Pause. Tickticktickticktick...*clunk* "Oh, okay! Are..." Pause. Parse. What was it.... Oh! "Polyamorous! Yes. That. Future is neat." REally though Widget is here for the meat. Glorious fried meat. So gooood. If there was one thing to keep the gremlin's mind out of the gutter with was food. Oh, wait, second thought. "Mavis, liek girls? Coz Amity does so if not makes sense not to be worried." Pause. "...Confused."
"Sure," agrees Mavis, although by her tone Amity could assume that the mortal didn't believe her at all. "Widget just got these ideas all on her own, seems a natural thing to bring up over breakfast." Even though it was dinner time.
The mortal smiles back over at Widget, promising her, "I'll swing by the junkyard one of these days. Little difficult right now, I need to get some wheels. Mebbe a truck." For hauling scrap, of course. She rolls her shoulders, shrugging them nonchalantly, and adds with an impish, sly smirk, "For picking the ladies in." Mavis sets down her coffee and brings a few plates out of the cupboards and lines one with paper-towels. She cracks some eggs into the egg pan, stirring them. While those cook up, Mavis pulls the meat out of the other pan and puts them on the plate lined with paper towels to soak up the fat.
"Food's almost ready!" announces Mavis.
| 