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HOUSE #1470
mayo ✧ little shit ✧ loving daughter

"You've reached Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel. I'm not here, leave a message!

If it's urgent... uh. Leave it urgently."

speed dial
steve
sakamoto
gremlin

( call | text | voicemail | mail | action )

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[a mop of orange, a plume of ash, and a world of problems she doesn't know the half of; carol spots it all right, and she wants to run out there and yank it off him, shout you're only hurting yourself more with this, can you just stop?

the lecture can wait, though, for a day when he's okay and it won't feel like beating him down on top of everything else and he'll just ignore her anyway.

one of the workers brings her coffee, and she drinks it black, sugarless and bitter. she doesn't ask for one for badou because she doesn't even know if he drinks coffee, and is it weird, not knowing that, after she's lived with him all these weeks?

anytime you're ready, kid.]

[when he comes in, halfway through her coffee, his face is a little more slack around the eye and mouth, not brittle and sharp like bone (those jagged edges that constantly bruise Carol, every time she gets too close)]

[and although he's been working there for a week and a half already, he doesn't seem to really say hello to any of the workers, ordering a drink at the counter and joining Carol at the table]

[it's a tall mug of hot chocolate, loaded up with whipped cream, a biscotti shoved in it like a flag in the earth, the whole concoction stinking of sweet, sweet sugar -- and he tends to it methodically, if not with his usual vigour for consumables]

[the acrid stink of smoke lingers under the café smells of goods baking and coffee brewing and the ridiculous thing the kid's ordered, but to her credit carol doesn't mention it, or even wrinkle her nose.

what she does do is lean back in her seat, rolling her shoulders, visibly untensing.]

Need more sugar there? I think you're only a couple steps away from truly diabetic levels.

[she hides her smirk behind her coffee cup. it's gentle, though, and so is the comment; testing the waters.]

[the boy scowls over his mountain of whipped cream; normally, he'd be too embarrassed to order something like this in front of anyone (chocolate was such kid stuff), but today wasn't really a normal day (and he hadn't thought about it)]

Shut up.

[but (some of) the tension is easing out of those junkyard shoulders, too; if he closed his eyes, it could be a cafe at home, and it could be someone else making fun of his beverage choices]

[gulp]

Edited 2013-08-07 19:46 (UTC)

Haahh -- !

[too hot too hot too hot]

[a laugh bubbles up out of her before carol can help herself, all surprise and sunny relief.]

You're a spaz, kid. You're supposed to sip it.

[and she leans forward across the table, coffee spoon at the ready, moving in to try and snake a glob of whipped cream off his drink while he's distracted.]

[and that's achingly familiar, too (since he's always been a spa -- impatient, and susceptible to sneak attacks from those who were a little smoother, a little less obviously roughed around their edges)]

[he smacks after that spoon, misses, drags his wrist through his whipped cream instead]

...

[licks it, like a stupid dog]

[and goes back to sipping (sipping!) his hot, stupid kid's drink]

...Shut up.

[carol snorts indelicately at him, spoon in her mouth, feeling the world tilt a little further back onto its axis. for now, anyway.

the rush of sweetness is a little more than she was prepared for, and she drains her coffee after to wash it down.]

Gonna get something to eat too, there, cowboy? I could go for something.

[if badou is scoffing down food like a garbage disposal, all is right with the world, after all.]

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