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[curseshit]

Rough day, eh? Time to head home to your loving spouse or to the inn to meet with your best mates. Anyway, the day is done. It was a long one too so make you sure you have a good night's rest because tomorrow is not going to be any easier. The duke wants the town to look absolutely perfect for the festival.

If you don't feel like sleeping just yet I hear the inn is running a small darts tournament. The food is bad and the rooms are small, but at least the alcohol is good. Apple cider all around!

[ mission: so about that curse! in order to break out of your curse you'll be needing three triggers or one big one. more information & examples here. hold your horses though, you aren't supposed to break free in just one night. ]

Comments

[armedarchaeologist]

[well maybe if you were less in denial and reminded me less of my dead platonic bff i don't even remember right now, then this would be less of a problem]

I know, I know.

[don't think he doesn't know how many people look at him twice, too. when john lays down the ultimatum though aaron slides his glasses back on, squares his shoulders, and looks john in the eye.]

Well I guess we're going to have to get used to full-price pie again, because. Her. Always her. You're— You're right. And I swear I'm only going to say this once more but I do mean it: I'm sorry.

[it's not just that he's the only one in town who understands her signing, or that she so clearly needs someone to look out for her, but watching over heather is pretty much the only thing he never questions.]

[sawedoff]

We can make it work.

[steps another step and drops a hand on his shoulder in the most unmarried couple way. bropatting. most of the hostility has drained away now that the biggest threat to their cover being blown is deep sixed]

You know, come hell or high water, whatever. No one's gonna take her. And if they stop paying out, well, screw it, we'll deal with that too.

[armedarchaeologist]

Yeah. Yeah, we will.

[smiles thinly at john. yeah that's why you're the priest and he's the line cook. you're a bro.

too bad he's not even slightly interested in sleeping with you, and vice versa.]

Hey, maybe Heather can hook me up with a teaching job?

[this is a joke. it's a slightly flat joke. but he's trying.]

[sawedoff]

Maybe just figure out how to stop burnin eggs.

[that'd be a start. hand falls away and raises eyebrows at him like. it's not that hard man. it's like spatula on griddle action. or wood stove action. open fire. whatever we cook with nowadays.]

[armedarchaeologist]

I... Should really be better at that, yeah.

[pretty much the worst. even craig tells him so. winces a little guiltily when he thinks about craig. you know the expression john.]

I dunno, yours always turn out well, maybe you can tell me your secrets? I'm not sure if it's that I leave them on too long or that the fire's too high or... You know what, it could be both. I think it's both.

[sawedoff]

You want me to teach you how to cook.

[rests hands at hips. sassiest. what do i look like to you martha stewart]

How did you even survive before me. [what did you eat like, raw chicken eggs and dirt]

[armedarchaeologist]

Well, yeah? I mean. Let's face it, it's not one of my top skills, it just pays the bills. Well. The bill.

[crosses arms over chest, but this isn't serious fighting stance, this is just sassy stance. it's the sassy olive drab family.]

I— [am drawing a blank here. shrugs.]

Takeout?

[sawedoff]

[stares at him for another couple beats before his arms flop to his sides and he sighs, heads for the kitchen, mouthing 'takeout?' to himself. it's a cruel world. his diet staple, forgotten.]

Now you're just talkin nonsense. Go get some eggs from back, we'll do a dry run. See how many you can manage to not get extra crispy.

[armedarchaeologist]

[stares back. again, it's not so much a challenge as it is an "i dunno either, you know how pearls of nutcaseness tumble from my lips."]

Hey, that's my specialty. Some people have even started requesting them and you know what that is the worst lie I've told tonight. I'll go get those eggs.

[goes to the... spring house? to the back. whatever's there. with eggs in. a chicken?]

[sawedoff]

[milk that chicken daniel. milk that chicken for its eggs.]

[waits for him with his hands in his pockets leaning against a countertop or whatever. medieval countertop. looks up at the ceiling. pray to irish jesus he can at least manage to pick up an egg]

[armedarchaeologist]

[please, he's just a white person, he's not a white person in an infomercial. comes back cupping three eggs in only slightly bloody hands, but you know what? chickens are evil. slightly bloody is a victory.]

I don't think it likes me.

[if it were any drier it'd be almost as dry as his fried eggs.]

[sawedoff]

Man, what did you do, get in a knock down drag out with it?

[looks at him like irish jesus give me strength before going to get a wet rag soapy at the wash basin. trades it for eggs. try not to lose your hands. or you're gonna be screwed. or never screwed again.]

You know you're s'posed to be smarter than the chicken?

[holds hand over pan to make sure it's hot enough before cracking an egg]

[armedarchaeologist]

Yep. It was touch-and-go for a minute, but in the end it was another victory for opposable thumbs.

[raises eyebrows back at john and gladly accepts the relatively antiseptic rag to scrub at the chickeny wounds with. comes up behind him to watch the whole egg cooking process, which so far seems to involve magic powers of thermometry.]

Well I'm the one eating it, so hah hah. Don't you need some kind of oil or something?

[noshoes]

[ hi she's back from. doing bo tutoring. or whatever. can we say she's teaching her how to swim instead of running because it makes more sense it's a little less probable bo will screw up swimming than running like a normal person

hey daddyos. makes sure to make some noise while she walks so they can hear her ]

[sawedoff]

Butter. You're actually helpless. That's like, not even step 1. It's step even babies know that.

[i can't. points to a dish of sagging butter with spatula. he pre-buttered before while he was wrestling chickens and almost losing but ultimately coming out victorious.]

[hands him spatula and nods at egg. flip it. flip the fucking egg.]

[sawedoff]

[oh daughter alert]

--You're home late.

[armedarchaeologist]

[waves at heather over his shoulder. hi sweetie. see how i suffer for you. no he's not signing that.]

Well assume I'm, I'm... Some kind of embryonic line cook, then. Assume nothing.

[pushes the spatula at the egg. not quite close enough to the pan. scrunches it up. the yolk starts to dribble.]

Oh sh...oot.

[noshoes]

[ don't you use me as an excuse for your vile ways, papa ]

[ nods and signs amber. didn't come today because papa is there he can translate it to daddy. watching daniel struggle with yolk and tilts her head, looking at dean like

what

what is he doing. is this safe. ]

[sawedoff]

[sighs shortly and grabs spatula from him to flip it and cauterize the yolk. damage control. it won't be perfect but it can still be saved]

Maybe we shoulda started with scrambled.

[glances over at shoulder while heather's signing something and smacks his shoulder to get his attention. translate duty]

[armedarchaeologist]

[omigod did someone say translate!?

turns and looks. mouth thins out into that guilty expression. he hadn't. hell, john probably knows what heather said from the look on aaron's face.]

Amber didn't show.

[quietly. missing the lesson of the egg metaphor. staring at the egg itself because he doesn't know if he can fix it, it's just so broken, and what if they take the egg away from him he doesn't know if he'll survive that.]

Maybe.

[noshoes]

[ at least there was no talk. "talk". you know what I mean

leans over her two perfect examples of father figures to watch this messy cooking show. this is great. smiles in blissful ignorance ]

[sawedoff]

[stops mid-spatulaing and looks over at him with the most accusatory are you shitting me with this stare]

[impending family collapse in 3]


[perfect examples]

[armedarchaeologist]

[full-body cringing. not like "he's gonna hit me," because holy irish jesus john is not that kind of person and aaron knows as much, more like he's already started hitting himself on the inside. um. metaphorically.]

Could we not in—

[cuts himself off. actually bites his tongue, because how in hell does he keep using heather as an excuse when she's the only thing that matters to him what the hell kind of hypocrite asshole is he.]

I'm s— [nope. well yeah he is but he promised.]

[noshoes]

[ okay the mute one is neri not you daniel you're not making any sense

widens her eyes a little in confusion and looks between them. what's uh. what's going on? ]

[sawedoff]

[tries to force a smile for heather but it comes out bitter-like, patting a hand over her hair and nodding toward the door. no he's not going to get into it over her head but this shit isn't going down like this bitch fool me once]

Your dad's gonna go out for a while.

[go on. with your sorry ass.]