Of Ice, Music, and Bad Movies

[James Turner]

"You beat me." He said as the door opened and revealed Gerrit, his tone might leave Gerrit guessing but the smile at the corner of his lips could serve as a hint or a mask it was hard to tell with John. Double-edged sword sometime. "I can't complain." That was a lie, he could always complain.


As the wine bottle was taken he didn't notice Cassandra's purposeful movements, distracted, a blind spot, both? He'd have done the same thing so it went entirely under his radar. "I got red, the person at the store says you drink it with red sauce. I have no idea honestly, I don't drink much wine. " He didn't want to put her out and saw she was already making tea so his first thought was to just have tea. But what he really wanted was coffee, he mulled that choice over a bit. "I don't want to put you out, but can I get coffee? If not anything with caffeine will be fine. We're still in my morning."


He answered but John was taking in the room, noting the beautiful Cello, taking in the music that he could focus on and hear clearly. He hovered around the island but his eyes were combing her bookshelf, noting spines he recognized and others he didn't, flitting to the book on the table noting its importance there. You put things there to display them or because it was what you were reading last. Either way it held importance.

[Gerrit]

Gerrit wished he could share Cassandra's optimism on that matter, he really did. "Well, at least you know whom you can turn to if there happens to be a follow up."


He wouldn't say he knew John, but he 'knew' him enough to smell a formality of an answer when he was given one. But he also thought that John would tell him if there was anything seriously wrong. Broken or not, they were still adults. He just answered the joke (?) with a look of fake surprise. "Gee, I didn't know we were having a contest."

He watched Cassandra prepare the drinks, idly wondering how long this bottle would last. Pretty judgmental for someone that reasoned his responsibilities to care about someone's well-being away with 'we are all adults'. A slight shake of the head nipped that thought in the bud as he took the tea. "Thanks, do you have a shot of milk for that? Also, can I help you with something?" She went through the trouble to cook and host, so he didn't want to just leech off of her hospitality.

[Cassandra Reeding]

Cassandra laughs a little at that 'can't complain' line from John, knowing full well he has said before he can always complain. "John with no complaints? Glad you are doing as well as you can be." Her words are sincere though. Things suck half the time, so doing any form of good is nice.

She smiles as she uncorks wine, though she doesn't progress further once John says he is interested in coffee. She looks back at him with a nod, still wearing that pleasant smile, "Sure. Which flavor?" She asks as she walks over to the pantry, pulling out several packages of coffee flavors, including french vanilla, several kinds of chocolate flavors, and then some standard blends. She sets them on the island and is already making her way over to the coffee maker to start the process, "Don't worry about making requests. I'll do my best to accommodate every time," she says with a little chuckle.


"Don't worry, I've got it," she shuffles back to the fridge to get some milk, "There is some sugar and honey on the counter if you'd like some," she says as she hands him the milk. She figures he can put it back when he's done.


"You taking a look at my books?" She asks curiously, "Been reading some newer ones. Strarsight is my current obsession. It is so good. Sci-fi and femme protagonist who is trying to figure out what happened to her father and become a fighter pilot. Very dystopian too."

The timer for the lasagna goes off then and she walks over to take it out of the oven, careful of the heat. She looks back to John for his choice in coffee, based on his personality, half expecting he's already gone and started it himself.

[James Turner]

He let out a soft chuckle before replying to Gerrit. "You didn't get my memo? Seeing who got a better route in this maze. Wonder if I'd taken an uber if it would have got lost." The chuckle growing into a laugh as Cassandra called him on his answer, taking his shoes off at the threshold out of habit. "Shocking I know. Just a pretty standard day today, outside of this that is." Wake up in fear or sorrow, take time to drag yourself out of bed. Force yourself to eat and shower, get dressed, get ready, go over to your Courtmates place. Takes more energy than most might think.


"Yea what can we do to make things easier?" He looked to Gerrit and nodded up at shelves and then looked at the table. Not knowing if he'd get the message or not but it was worth a shot, right now though his fingers were combing intently through the coffee trying to pick out a flavor. He just stuck with the tried and true French Vanilla and got to work. She was busy doing other things and so long as he wasn't in her way he knew how to work a coffee machine. Was he making a whole pot of coffee for just himself? Perhaps.


Once the coffee was percolating he returned the coffee to the pantry but in alphabetical order. "Don't mind us now." He chuckled again, dipping out of her way as she grabbed the lasagna out of the oven and he began peaking in cupboards for plates and glasses so they could start setting the table.

[Gerrit]

"Oh, that." He smiled slyly. "I guess I'm just naturally talented, they should have sent you a memo about that." The friendly banter was good - it took him out of nasty thoughts and experts would agree that half the work of feeling good was acting the part.

When Cassandra handed him the milk he poured a little into his tea and put it back when he caught John's look. He's right, less talk and more action is in order. The Ogre put his cup on the counter and looked for the most likely drawer to hide cutlery. Careful not to stand in the hostess' way, he took out some forks and knives and brought them over to the table. Next he looked for some paper towels of napkins. He hoped she would take it as them wanting to be helpful and wouldn't blame herself for being a bad host.
The busy atmosphere brought back pleasant memories. "Look at us, getting ready for a proper family dinner. Wanna make a promise not to get to the serious stuff until we're done?"

When everything was set, he took his cup over to the table. "Is there a preferred seating order or do you have a dedicated place?"

[Cassandra Reeding]

Cassandra sets the lasagna on a cooling rack, setting a timer to allow the lasagna time to cool, "It's fine, don't worry-" and turns to see the boys already grabbing out the plates, cups, silverware, and napkins. She sighs a little, perhaps with some amount of relief. “Thank you. You two are very sweet. It’s a habit. I used to kick people out of my kitchen when I would host any kind of party. Hard to let go and let people help,” People, of course, meaning Phillip. Go intimidate an avocado into ripening or something. The thought makes her chuckle. "Then again, the kitchen and dining room used to not be so close together."

She smiles with a sense of haziness. It was nice to feel like she did kind of have a family again. She was cooking and having people over again, living again. It made her want to cry, but she's already shed too many tears in the last month. When did the ice queen get so emotional? "Yes, let's just laugh and be merry. Chat, eat, and enjoy the music," She walks to finish pouring herself a small glass of wine. She might shift to coffee later, but she would feel it rude not to taste the wine company had brought over, even if it wasn't that good.

"I normally sit at the bottom right end instead of the head. Feel free to sit wherever aside from that."


Music continues to play in the background, and with it being Queen, she can’t help but stop for a moment and sway to it. As the music plays, she turns off the timer and brings the slightly cooled lasagna in its dish over to the table, setting it in the middle after scooching over the vase of flowers that normally sits atop it. Their combined mantles would likely cool it faster anyway.

[James Turner]

“Oh I didn’t need a memo for that, your decision making skills are already known to be excellent.” Chuckling as he moved around the kitchen, finding the plates and pulling out a stack before shifting to the table to set the stack of plates on the table not wanting to decide seating arrangements for everyone. Normally he was the type to eat at his coffee table and watch TV. He shifted to glasses next, Cassandra getting wine a cheat for finding out where those glasses were and lead him to the others.

He was pulling out glasses as he spoke, “Yea, I at least know better to get in the way when someone’s near an oven. You’re the host, the least we can do is lend a hand where we can. You did all the hard work cooking after all.” His agreement to Gerrit’s proposal was taciturn merely agreed upon through action. He’d been carrying glasses when she said where she sat so he sat a normal glass for water and shifted a plate from the stack to her preferred seat. Letting Gerrit pick his spot next as he went to get the wine glasses for the table.

“I always think of Shaun of the Dead when I hear this song now.” A small smile playing at his lips as he set the glasses on the table, shifting to let Cassandra bring the lasagna over. “There anything else we can do to help out, anything else you need out of the kitchen?”

[Gerrit]

Gerrit was at a loss for words with John's last quip. He just stood there for a moment, then chuckled. "Alright, I concede - I'm the wayfinder, you're the master of wit." Because, let's be honest - the last few weeks weren't a great testament for excellent decision-making.

The scent of food intensified when Cassandra pulled out the lasagna and with it the homely feeling grew. "I get that, having guests bumbling about can do more harm than good, but you see" he pointed at the resourceful Darkling and his found glasses "you're dealing with expert bumblers." The music brought the tiniest bit of swing in the Ogre's step as he claimed the place at the head of the table. You know you're going to regret this excessive stroll down memory lane later, right? He knew, but he might as well ride this one out as long as it made him feel good. Besides, there was nothing wrong with equating your Courtmates to a family because chances were those people are the only family he's going to get.

"Shaun of the dead? I'm probably too old for that, but I didn't really get the appeal to be honest." He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was just too chaotic and the humor didn't land with him. He checked the table, but couldn't think of anything missing so he sat down and waited for the others. When Cassandra brought the fruits of her labor he clapped as if she'd just landed a plane. Let's show mommy how wonderful she is and how much we love her! We love you mommy!

[Cassandra Reeding]

Cassandra just smiles, letting out a bit of air in a chuckle, "Well, I more than appreciate the help and knowing how to stay out of my way when needed." She supposed at least one of them has done the whole family like dinner before. There is something sweet and wholesome about the whole scene, and yet something so very sad. She couldn't put her finger on it.

"Oh, the master of bumbling huh? Well, I suppose I can allow the bumbling. You two are starting to feel less like true guests anyway," she gives a little wink.

There is an amount of excitement when John mentions Shaun of the Dead, "Oo, oo, oo. Love that one. That scene was beyond glorious. Oh, Gerrit, you've got to see it. It's hilarious. Crap, now I want to watch it." She just laughs, but when Gerrit starts clapping at the bringing over of the lasagna, she visibly blushes. It brings out a worse memory that she hasn't wanted to go into. Mommy, mommy, when's the 'sagna' gonna be ready? Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. We arent going there tonight. The feeling almost made her feel sick.

Cassandra instead just chuckles and gives a little bow, "Why, thank you," She makes a bit of an 'oh yeah' face and walks over to the kitchen again for a serving spatula. "There we go." She walks back over, "Okay, how big a slice do you two want?"​

[James Turner]

He just laughed along with Gerrit, not knowing the irony of his own statement given as a compliment. Raising a glass to Gerrit as he pointed out they were expert bumblers, shifting around the kitchen and dining room dodging everyone and their respective loads as they set the table. Setting it up so he could sit next to both if able. Now understanding why King Arthur used a round table but noting that there was still a hierarchy in their seating arrangement addressed or not.

“Thank you for being so gracious a host anyways. Glad we can help out somehow, you really don’t want me to cook.” He chuckled keeping the thought about guest rites buried in the back of his head. Too much like them, you add rules, you codify it and then you’re exactly like them.

“Not for everyone. Satire of the zombie and horror genre as a whole, and different sensibilities as far as humour is concerned.” Not everything was for everyone, a hard yet important lesson in life. Though he stood still and frozen when Gerrit started clapping, not sure why he was clapping and pausing for a second before he joined in more slowly. John might have been the only one here who didn’t really have family dinners. Does Hungryman count as a family dinner?

“Our docket of films keeps growing it seems. And thank you for cooking, I’ll take like a slightly bigger than average slice if you don’t mind.” John didn’t eat much, his diet consisted of cigarettes, donuts, and coffee. When he got the chance to really indulge though he wouldn’t say no. It wasn’t often he got a home-cooked meal.