[ota] this is just a tribute

[hamelinic]

So apparently there are a zillion things going wrong with the Deck these days. Murders and Challenges and hijinks and all the sort of thing which really, well, if the denizens don't expect it by now, they're just not the best at denizen-ing this particular location of denizenship, are they.

So you know who isn't concerned? This Joker.

And you know who is still riding a high from his weekend get-away with his super-best-friend Johniel? Also this Joker. So you know who is ready to talk your ear off about elephants and dyeing silk and macaroni on a stick? Yes, still Cynric. He is, at least, playing very energetically while he babbles.

Seriously, though. Mac and cheese. On a stick. You know you have hours to listen to him talk about that. Don't be shy.

Comments

psst, borked link

[messire_messer]

Can they at least have a drink while one babbles at the other? Granted, more a coffee-ish drink than a beer-ish drink, but. That comes later.

"I suppose as long as anything's solid you could put it on a stick and eat it. Is that so novel with mac and cheese?"

...copy-paste, how in the hell did you betray me like that. o9 Thank you~

[hamelinic]

Sitting is good. Drinking is fine. Coffee-ish is probably not the best idea, unless Rap's drinking it all by himself and pushing something more like water on the Joker. Someone clearly doesn't need more energy.

"But it's made of bits. Like-- a million little pasta-y bits. Right? And it was just formed into actual proper things, not--like-- strung along on it."

How is this not fascinating, fun friend. How.

[heartvestment]

"On a stick?" Edie's eyes are totally wide. "Like, each individual little pasta piece?"

[hamelinic]

"No, ma'am." Which is what you'd think. But. "All-- squish-molded together and made into its own-- thing."

He's good with words for singing. He doesn't need to be good with words here, right?

[messire_messer]

Unfortunately Rap isn't thinking about the consequences of caffeine, not really. He's just sharing the delights of caramel syrup.

"The cheese helps rather a bit in gluing it together, I expect. Did they sculpt it?" Because what's the fun of sticking food on sticks without a bit of shaping. Rap never did like the plain popsicles.

[hamelinic]

And who can say no to that. Who. Rap can only blame himself if Cynric sits on the end of his bed tonight literally not talking at all.

"Just into little triangles and such. You could have done something far more fascinating with them." Hang on. "You can do, likely."

Where can he get macaroni for free. A lot of it. It is Project Time.

[messire_messer]

If he must have a Joker on the end of his bed tonight, could he maybe get serenaded or lullabied to sleep. Somehow. If Cynric doesn't get distracted with all the bits and bobs in his little flat first.

...or perhaps he won't be sleeping at all. "Are you going to be eating all those? Because I don't sculpt food to be stared at forever."

[hamelinic]

But. But Rap. He thought you knew him.

"...when have I said no to food. When have you known me to say no to food."

These aren't even questions. These are just slightly wounded statements.

[messire_messer]

Now is the time to lean over and jab at Cynric's stomach, surely. Jab and generally poke at.

"So you're telling me that your stomach is effectively bottomless, yes?" Or at least, big enough to hold as many sticks of mac and cheese as can be bought on Rap's meager salary or snatched from the Spade kitchens and cooked in Rap's kitchen. Which could be a lot. Probably.

He'll keep the pepto-bismol on standby.

[hamelinic]

"--oi." The twitching of fingers over his lute have to stop for hand-swatting. Ridiculous human friend. "It is. The blackest of holes. Probably means y' should be feeding me more than coffee now, really."

[messire_messer]

"All right, all right. If you're sure you don't want to leave space for the mac and cheese." Which will be reduced in amount by however much of his bill here he has to pay. So perhaps it's a good thing. Hm.

Whatever. Let's go press noses against the display.

[hamelinic]

Stupid good friends. All making sure you didn't go hungry and being all right with crazy plans to make mountains of macaroni and cheese. It derails the mad babbling.

"How's tricks, by the way?"

And will they need to go throw mac and cheese at the remains or the triumph of a bridge?

[messire_messer]

His judgement of what is a good idea and what is not is skewed by his indulgence of his friends and his desire to Art. Well. Mostly his desire to Art.

Maybe he should have been a pastry chef, had he the patience.

His face falls slightly at the question, choosing instead to poke at the glass for a slice of death by chocolate cake. Does his falling into the ocean and the current hole in his bridge have to be discussed?

[hamelinic]

"...that good, eh?"

It's okay, fun friend. Because now is the time to pretend not to hug while dropping his chin on top of the other man's briefly.

"What's next, then?"

[messire_messer]

The pretend-not-love is appreciated, buddy. Truly.

"Well, fixing the bridge. Then there's these sculptures I've promised Lasse Rasmussen. Half done, so that's all right. Then mac and cheese, I suppose. Unless there's something else catches my eye." Nudge nudge. Is he not supposed to be feeding up.

[hamelinic]

"Sculptures?"

Of what thing. Tell him with words. Tell him with words or the poking starts in the opposite direction.

[messire_messer]

"Cardinal directions. I had West done already," although it had just been a sculpture without a theme, "and then Lasse offered materials and money to complete the set for his restaurant." He puffs up his chest. "North's done, and now for East. He's lent me his odd-ends-room to work in."

[hamelinic]

...ooh. Ooh ooh ooh.

"What's North look like?"

[messire_messer]

Tut tut tut, Cynric. And another tut for good measure. "Are y'not going to see what it looks like?"

[hamelinic]

"Are words too hard?" Pleeeease. Please he is the clingingest not-hugger of clearly about to steal some of this chocolat cake.

Pleeeeease.

[messire_messer]

"You're going to say I didn't describe well enough," he accuses half-heartedly, slicing off a piece with his fork to hold idly and not at all notice Cynric stealing. "It's mostly metal, set with glass pieces out of lots of old ugly lamps Lasse had. And I've got a bulb inside."

[hamelinic]

"But 'm also going to say it's genius."

Does the Chiveccent make it better. Does the happy 'gnam' sound as he steals a bite make it less ridiculous.

"Does it light up, then?"

[messire_messer]

No it doesn't. It actually makes him stab him with the fork a little. By accident, Cynric will understand. Rap hopes he does, anyway. "Right. Or Lasse will shove it somewhere that the sun'll shine through it, maybe."

[hamelinic]

It's cool. Cynric speaks Spade. He knows how they express love through stabbings. Give him a second to 'gnam' away the searing pain of fork-stabbing.

"Thought the expression involved the sun not shining."

[maidenthespade]

She'll just sprawl here and pretend day has not happened with political posturings and dead Spades and perplexed Diamonds and headaches--all the headaches. That is until he says something confusing to her.

"Macaroni and cheese?"