Midnight Manor Private Residence, Saturday Evening

[pocketpretzels]

Having made the decision to do an actual Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, Watts was spending a significant portion of today repeatedly herding a cat out of the kitchen making some of the dishes ahead of time. Like the dinner rolls which were currently cooling on the counter.

Humming a song as he worked, he was currently chopping apples for tomorrow's dessert.

Though part of him was also wondering if perhaps some butter tarts might not go awry. He'd even found a vegan recipe. Was two desserts too many?

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

While Watts was working, a text came in from Marc's number.

Taking care of a thing. Back soon.

(Look, Marc informing was a completely different thing from Marc being informative.)

[pocketpretzels]

And Watts, who had in fact seen Marc head out not that long ago to do that walkabout of the grounds and thus was just starting to get concerned when it seemed to be taking an unusually long length of time, breathed a sigh of relief at the text, minimally informative as it was.

all righh. anything i shiod worry aloud?

[hasaknightjob]

It took Marc longer to translate Watts's texts than it did Steven. Yes, Marc could ask Steven to do it but in this particular moment Marc figured best to catch Steven up later.

Don't think so? Will let you know.

If it did turn bad would Marc think to let him know in a timely fashion? Excellent question!

[pocketpretzels]

Given Marc’s response, Watts was just going to assume that the thing wasn’t related to their house, at least.

take care tbben he typed out in reply.

[hasaknightjob]

K was Marc's eloquent text back.

Then, after the time it took to drop off Liliana, he sent another text of, omw.

Then a nudge deep inside of him which wasn't even worth pretending wasn't Steven, made him add Heading home so Watts would know what that meant.

Once Marc got back outside of MHA he realized he had Liliana's blood on his shirt. Which, well, personal experience told him wasn't a great look for walking around in public regardless of how well you knew the guy who ran the Trooper Station. So he pulled his outer shirt off, left it at the thankfully unstained T-shirt underneath, and headed home.

When he got back into the private residence he called out, "I'm back." He left the bloody shirt hanging off the banister so he could toss it down the laundry chute later. he then popped in to the powder room to wash off any of the blood still on his skin, double checking in the mirror - just him at the moment - to be sure he hadn't missed any of it.

Then he headed over to the kitchen to find Watts.

[pocketpretzels]

Watts was still chopping apples, as it happened. Only now he'd moved on to painstakingly attempting to make nice, uniform slices to decorate the top of the cake with. It was going...

Well. It was entirely possible there would be an apple pie or two in this household's future, given how many pieces weren't quite making the cut, so to speak.

"Everything taken care of?" he asked, turning around to face Marc as he heard him enter the kitchen.

[hasaknightjob]

"Great question?" Marc asked. He took note of all the stuff Watts had gotten done and then helped himself to one of the apple pieces that clearly wasn't getting used. "Liliana fell out of the sky. No clue what that's about."

[pocketpretzels]

"She fell out of the- does she normally spend much time up there?" Watts couldn't help asking, though he then followed it up with a: "Sorry. You probably don't know the answer to that." Given that Marc had also just said he had 'no clue' what that was about.

[hasaknightjob]

"She was covered in blood so I'm guessing no," Marc said. "But I have no idea. I tried getting her to go to the Clinic but she wanted to go to Ignis's place instead."

[pocketpretzels]

"I was unaware that Mr. Scientia had medical training," Watts noted, biting back a frustrated sigh as yet another apple slice was unevenly cut.

[hasaknightjob]

"Maybe he's got a surgery room somewhere in that apartment," Marc said. Hell, maybe the whole night was a sex thing. Wouldn't have been the weirdest relationship dynamic on the island if that was the case. "But what are you gonna do? Far as I could tell she wasn't bleeding out or anything. Maybe Ignis can talk some sense into her."

[pocketpretzels]

"So- covered in blood but it wasn't her own?" Watts speculated. He didn't trust Liliana, but that didn't mean he wanted to see her gravely (heh) injured.

[hasaknightjob]

"Not sure?" Marc admitted. Yeah he could make theories based on what he observed but in the end that was still just him guessing. "She wasn't talking much. Maybe I'll find out what happened later when she's back on her feet."

Because if things were leaving injured people by his home, Marc wanted to know about them.

[pocketpretzels]

"I do hope this is an isolated incident," Watts said, his own train of thought going down a similar-ish track to Marc's.

[hasaknightjob]

"Same," Marc said. He helped himself to another spare piece of apple. "Because around this place who knows what the fuck that might be the first sign of."

More people falling from the sky, for instance. Marc wasn't ruling it out.

[pocketpretzels]

"At least it's someone who already lives h- damn it all," he grumbled, as the knife slipped yet again at the last moment, ruining what would have been a perfect apple slice.

[hasaknightjob]

Look, Marc wasn't gonna say he'd been watching Watts's... what would be generously called knife skills with an itch to grab the knife out of his hands and show him how to use it. But on the other hand if the opportunity to at least bring it up was going to be served up on a platter like that...

"Need a hand?"

[pocketpretzels]

For a moment, Watts's pride considered insisting that it was fine, he could manage. But then he considered how much work there still was left to do, and practicality won out.

"Yes, actually, that- would be appreciated."

[hasaknightjob]

"All right, give me the knife," Marc said, holding out his hand. "Handle first."

[pocketpretzels]

He wasn’t that bad, Marc, oh my god. Hence the slightly exasperated look as he handed over the knife. Handle first, yes.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc simply quirked his eyebrows up to show he wasn't assuming anything.

"First up, you want a sharp blade," Marc said. "A dull blade is a dangerous blade. Do you know how to test it?"

[pocketpretzels]

“Other than attempting to use it and hope it gets the job done?” Watts asked. “Not in the least.”

[hasaknightjob]

"Piece of paper works," Marc said. He rummaged through the drawers until he found a spare note pad. He tore a piece of paper off of it and held it up. "Okay, watch. See how I'm holding the knife? 45 degree angle? If it cuts the paper we're good. If it catches, it's dull."

[pocketpretzels]

“All right,” Watts said, watching curiously.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc made a slice in the paper, going slow enough that Watts could watch. "Okay. See? That's fairly smooth. Doesn't hurt to hone them every time you use them though. Let me worry about making sure all our blades are sharp."