3nanashi | (no subject)

Entry tags:

circus,
visitors

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The trailer looks much the same as ever: small, clean, ruthlessly tidy.

Well, except for the tinsel on the cabinets. (Cathy's doing. It's shedding a bit on the counter.) And the holly and colorful squiggles drawn on the whiteboard on the back of the kitchen door. (Also Cathy's doing.) And the tiny tree taking up half the kitchen table, wedged into a corner and slightly precariously laden with ornaments. (Trowa helped with that one. But because Cathy handed him the box of ornaments and told him to.) There are small presents shoved under the drooping branches.

Trowa is making coffee, at the moment.

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Trowa nods to her.

Hi, Cass.

The coffee machine gurgles. This is probably not a greeting, since it's nonsentient.

Cass nods to Trowa, beams at Cathy as she reaches out to take a delicious sticky bun, and turns her attention to the coffee maker.

It is quite fortunate that the machine is nonsentient because most people would find the sort of hungry attention she's directing at it more than a little disconcerting.

"Trowa makes good coffee," Cathy informs her, licking excess icing off her fingers (DAINTILY AND LADY-LIKE, OKAY) before deconstructin the bun. "And we have peppermint flavoring!"

It's from the dollar store. But it still tastes like peppermints!

"It takes a few minutes."

If Cass wants to spend the entirety of the brewing time staring at the coffee machine, though, Trowa's not going to stop her.

He leans against the counter, arms comfortably folded, and doesn't comment on the concept of peppermint coffee.

Apparently Cass does want to spend the entire time staring at the coffee machine. The sticky bun rests forgotten (and woefully uneaten) in her hand as she leans forward intently.

Every so often her nose twitches as she inhales the aroma of the brewing beverage. It smells just like she remembers.

...um!

Cathy tilts her head at her. "Caaass? Can you read me?" Cathy doesn't know the cultural reference except through osmosis. "Have you never had coffee before?"

Apparently Cass is a coffee fan.

Or something.

It may be a good thing that this is not a huge coffeemaker, and only makes a few cups' worth at a time.

Despite her fascination with the process that produces the magical drink, Cass turns when Cathy starts speaking. She cocks her head at the question, then nods sharply. One finger is held up to illustrate the number of coffee encounters she has had.

D:!

"Is there no coffee in your world?"

TRAGEDY.

Cass frowns. This is a hard question to answer because if she nods it will likely be interpreted as confirmation of Cathy's question, but if she shakes her head it will be in confirmation of Cathy's assumption about no coffee.

She settles for an entirely unhelpful shrug.

Barbara was drinking coffee, and not as if it were a rare Milliways substance.

Trowa's primary hypothesis here is that it exists, but Cass (for any of several possible reasons) doesn't get it very often. Cathy's here, though, and he's perfectly willing to let her take over the part of the conversation that involves actual speaking.

So: leaning back and listening impassively.

"Well," Cathy says, biting her lip. "There's got to be. There's a South America, right? So there'd--be coffee beans. Because if there wasn't everything would--go funny-" she glances at Trowa as if for support in her ecosystem argument, "-so they might not, um, just have made it. From the coffee beans. That were there. You could start a beverage revolution!"

She would totally make banners for it. Viva la Coffee! No Taxation Without Caffeination!

After tapping her chin in thought for a few seconds, Cass nods in agreement.

Oracle knows about revolutions. She could probably start one with nothing but a cell phone. And she likes coffee. Cass will ask her about it.

Or something.

Then Cass remembers that there is something in her hands. It is a sticky bun! It is filled with sweet, sugary goodness!

Trowa may be faintly amused at the idea of a beverage revolution. Especially as discussed in this company. And with that nuanced ecological basis.

(It's hard to tell. But Cass is Cass, and Cathy tends to assume he sees the humor in things whether she can read his expression or not.)

Gurgle, drip, says the coffee machine, halfway through brewing.

Cathy beams, and kicks her feet against the cupboards aimlessly as she finishes her sticky bun.

She doesn't let herself eat (non-smoothie) junk food that often, so: hurrah!

Cass is pleased with her sugary confection. She glances over at the coffee maker long enough to ascertain that it won't be done in the next sixty seconds.

That's enough to free her up to wander around the small room, examining everything curiously. It was very... small. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing.

Very small and narrow, and very tidy. This is the kitchen and common room together, it looks like: there's a table, a few chairs, and some brightly colored wall hangings that clash with the current tinsel and the tiny Christmas tree. (It's made of plastic. Pine trees are hard to find in the Amazon Confederacy.) Two doors, both currently ajar, lead to Trowa's room and Cathy's; a third door is closed. The fourth leads outdoors, or would if it were open; on the back of it is a whiteboard displaying the HOUSE RULES in multicolored ink, most of them in Cathy's handwriting.

There are no windows in this room, though there are in others. There's limited counterspace, a small fridge tucked under one counter, and a smaller stove and sink.

The decorations betray Cathy's touch. The tidiness is both their doing; neither one of them is used to living with lots of possessions or unlimited space.

In most houses, she would check all the rooms. Just to be safe. Just to get her bearings. But this is Trowa's house. She's sure that there are at least two clear exits if they're needed. Probably four.

Her hands run gently across the various surfaces in the room. Tactile interaction helps to fix things kinesthetically.

After a while she nods to Cathy and to Trowa. She approves! It is much homier than Oracle's place.

Cathy grins at Cass, her feet tucked under her and hands clean.

"Nuestra casa es su casa, etc., etc.!" she informs Cass cheerfully.

Cass just nods, completely unaware that Cathy changed languages on her.

(Six exits from their current position, counting windows.)

When one travels -- as a performer, as a soldier -- one gets used to picking up languages. It's a fact of life.

Cass's reaction, or lack thereof, is worth noticing anyway.

He lowers his eyelids for a moment in acknowledgement of the approval.

Meeep squeaks the coffeemaker as it finishes, and Cathy jumps off the counter to grab three mugs.

They have, respectively: an angelfish in a tophat, a dragon on a pile of cabbages, and a lion that says RAWR.

She turns her head to Cass. "We've got creamer, peppermint flavoring, and there's some sugar in the can," she points along the counter.

"Do you want to go exploring the town and come back for presents, or the other way around? We've got to be back at two to throw the casserole into the oven for the dinner."

Cathy is very considerate, asking Cass' opinion regarding plans. Unfortunately the coffee has already been poured (Cass has an awesome mug with a fish!), and that means that she's over there at the counter pouring sugar directly from the canister into her fishy.

All of which means that she misses Cathy's query entirely.

Trowa is perfectly willing to wait indefinitely for Cass to answer. Or for either of them to make a decision, since he doesn't care.

Alternately, to wait for Cass to realize that they're waiting for an answer. Sometimes she seems not to notice questions; this, too, is interesting.

Meanwhile, he's pouring himself coffee. In the lion mug.

(RAWR! says the cartoon lion now.)

Cathy is less zen. "We might as well explore first," she says, with a quick shrug and a smile as she leans against the cupboard with her coffee-avec-peppermint. "Present opening's easier to rush!"

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seewhatyoumean.livejournal.com - 2008-12-27 07:23 (UTC) - Expand

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3nanashi - 2008-12-27 07:26 (UTC) - Expand

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