kismet_loop_logs | because this guy has a GREAT track record with fire...

because this guy has a GREAT track record with fire...

Who: Sam and Hiro
Where: Their hip happening bachelor(ette) pad
When: post-April-Fool's-effects (April 20th-ish)
What: COOKIES also Hiro clarifying a few things
Warnings: Excessive amounts of cookies and sad attempts at baking

Years of watching sitcoms about people in wacky roommate situations had not adequately prepared Hiro for the reality of living with someone. All right, yes, granted, he'd never so much "watched" them as "begged Aunt Cass to stop watching them and let him change to channel to something with monsters or robots", but still -- this never happened to people on TV.

"This" being a sad, well-meant but poorly executed attempt at baking. The butter was a solid lump in the middle of the mixing bowl, the vanilla smelled amazing but tasted nasty, and most of the flour was spread over the counters and in Hiro's hair, and he was way too young to rock the grey-haired look. He may have been a certified genius, but when it came to baking, he was absolutely hopeless.

"Stupid space cookies," he muttered, glaring at the congealed mess in the mixing bowl. That was a good plan, blame Haven for his mishaps, rather than taking responsibility. That miiiight not work too well once Sam returned home, however, especially not when Hiro took into account what Dirge had said.

A witch. Sam was a witch. A witch who could apparently curse people (though Hiro wasn't too sure how much faith he should put into a conversation had between talking about robotic tongues) if she was mad enough. Would the total destruction of her (their?) kitchen be enough to make her that mad?

Hiro exhaled slowly, wiping baking soda off his face. Well, that was that. He was going to spend the rest of his life as a newt. At least until Sam needed his eyes for some secret deadly potion. A dismal end to a dismal day.

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Hiro's interest in asking what he had was enough to appreciate, but his attitude was to be appreciated, too. With so many aspects of body art overlooked when they oughtn't've been---it's all important, all interesting---to have someone's unwavering attention was... gratifying.

"You might also be interested to know you can wash one out, to an extent, if gets when when it hasn't healed." Trivia, tossed out, before Sam turned her attention to the matter than mattered, arms sliding to her sides as she settled against the counter, seeming speculative. "I sort of suspected."

Hiro's no artist, but he can appreciate something that's orderly and neat and makes sense but still looks awesome. That's what robotics is all about, after all -- science and math that fits together to make something that can punch in faces~

He'd ask more (tattoos washing out? For real??) but the metaphorical cat's out of the bag and Sam has a look on her face that's...not mad. It's thoughtful, it's a little pensive, but it's definitely not the reaction he'd expected. Shifting from one foot to the other, he ventures, "You...did?"

"Yeah." Hands now on her hips, Sam shrugged. "From your mention of magic---I mean, man, why else would you ask?---and the way you were trippin' over talking about the broom. Which is just a broom, and not a back-up if the stree'doo breaks down."

She looked to Hiro (to and at, appraising,) and offered him a small smile. "It's funny. Before coming here and having the whole thing slowly grow into one of the city's worst-kept secrets, I never really thought of myself as anything so specific, aside of 'me.' But I guess 'witch' is as good a word as any."

"I-I could've been asking something else! Like...like maybe you're a fairy or a...mer...maid." Hiro sort of trails off lamely, leaning back against the counter and looking sheepish. He gets a D- in lying.

The appraising look will get one very awkward, hesitantly smiling, unsure teenager who still isn't 100% sure that he isn't going to get in trouble. Add in a whole lot of confusion and that's basically where he is. "...so....you didn't call yourself a witch? Before?"

D-, accompanied by an observation: 'Endearingly awful.'

"Nah." Content to hang out at the counter and talk while the oven was warming, Sam stepped away long enough to collect the remaining raisins before settling back where she'd been. "It didn't really come up in many conversations. It's the sort of thing a person tries to keep on the down-low, you know?"

Alternatively: awfully endearing?

Hiro's going to hop up on the counter (and likely get flour all over his rear) and fold his hands on the top of the broom before resting his chin on them. Now they're sort-of eye-to-eye. He's been relaxing steadily throughout this conversation, so he really doesn't think before asking: "So you wouldn't get burned?"

...tact is not one of his strengths.

"Basically." The word was out from a full mouth; Sam swallowed and continued to talk, unphased. "Under normal circumstances, if word was out, I'd be caught in a catch-22. People don't believe? They consider me some kind of crazy person, or at least for-some-reason, the subject of slander. People believe? I have all kinds of complications on my hands. Can you do this, can you do that, how the hell and 'oh but you must, accompanied by all kinds of elbow-twisting. I don't need that scene."

She shook her head, snorting once.

"No-one needs that scene."

Hiro had been trying to figure out how best to back-track that weird rude comment, but then Sam is agreeing with him, and wow, that actually sounds even worse than what he was imagining. If there's one thing Hiro understands, it's being able to do something extraordinary and having everyone you meet focus on that and only that, like it's the only thing about you.

So he manages a smile, a very knowing smile. "I get that. ...it's not something everyone in your world can do, then?"

That smile got him a smile in return---larger than the last---and, as Sam crossed her arms again, an affectionate elbowing. "Only a few, and although I know a handful, I don't know of anyone who can do what I can. People have different... domains? Or, a different area of effect. Felix and his family are essentially kitchen-witches; they do all their work with edibles, for the influencing of health-and-home. There's a guy in Edmonton who talks to the city, like, the city itself, more than any individual, and gets answers out of it, and there are others like him at least in the sister cities of Hull and Harbin." She let that hang for a few moments, wondering how strange it sounded.

"My sphere's skin-deep stuff."

Hiro scrunches his nose at Sam, in relief and mock irritation at the elbowing, leaning over (and nearly losing his perch) to nudge her back. The explanation sounds strange, but...not bad-strange. Weird and unusual, for sure, but distinctly not sinister.

Still, just to make sure, he'll venture, "So, you don't...use it to hurt people." It's a statement, not a question, and it's accompanied by a preventative wince of apology. He just had to know for sure, considering his own experiences with overly flexible moral codes.

As Hiro teetered, Sam braced herself to offer a steadying shoulder so that he could catch himself without the indignity of being caught.

"Normally, no." The answer came with a level look over. "I'll admit that I have, and a couple of times, but each time it was warranted with the situation I was in. I don't start shit, and I don't want a beef with anybody... but I'll push back. Best example? I put a hurt on the guy with the knife in the Cup riot. If it wasn't for my magic, I'd have a scar to show."

Edited 2015-04-27 06:25 (UTC)

Hiro only hesitates a moment before taking advantage of that, one awkward, hesitant hand going out to brace on Sam's shoulder. He's still very unsure of himself, but it's a step up from hiding behind the fridge, right?

The explanation gets a frown and an immediate headshake. "That's different. That's...self-defense. Protecting yourself isn't the same as hurting people for no reason."

"Well, yeah, but you didn't say anything about motive to specify. And I wouldn't blame you if you were a bit weirded out, but..." Once Hiro was stable again, Sam set her hands against the countertop, boosting herself back and up onto it so as to sit beside him. She paused to wipe her palms against her pants, leaving pale streaks of flour, and offered another shrug. "I want you to know that I'll be honest about this. Just be honest with me, okay? Was it because you made a big mess or heard about the whole witch thing you seemed sorta skittish when I got in?"

To avoid her steady gaze, Hiro's going to look down at his own flour-covered knees and absently brush at the marks, an unconscious, slightly nervous gesture. Honesty. Not so easy for someone who's gotten really good at evasion in the past few months.

But after a moment, he'll reply, quietly, eyes still lowered, "Sort of both?" It's embarrassing to admit that he still feels unsure to the point of genuine fear, but it's worse to feel that in the first place.

"Again, I'm going to be honest. As long as the mess gets cleaned up, I really don't care." Sam shook her head in emphasis, a crooked little smile creeping across her face. "Really. I'm assuming it'll be within a reasonable amount of time, but I acknowledge that that is an assumption, and even so? I still mean it. And about the witch thing..."

What about the witch thing? Her segue had stalled; with all of the things she could say, their conversational path did not fork but fan.

"About the witch thing, I don't know what to tell you. This is the first time I've had this kind of conversation, so I'm... searching for what I should say. I've never hurt anyone without a really good reason. My magic is more than that. My toast still lands butter-side-down if I drop it? And I mean well."

Hiro frowns, waving a hand vaguely at the still-somewhat-messy kitchen. "It's clean! I mean, it's making significant steps in that direction, at least." Then, with a sage nod, speaking as if the cleanliness of the Danger Zone is entirely out of his hands "I think we shouldn't push it too hard, to best show our support."

The fact that this part of the conversation is giving her pause is actually pretty comforting. If Hiro feels awkward, and Sam feels awkward, they're on the same page. Plus, her answer makes sense, and Hiro almost feels like he should let her off the hook -- "Well, I sort of guessed Dirge was exaggerating. But I get it. Sort of. You're not all fairy-tale-villain, you're more comic-book-superhero, yeah?"

"It was making significant steps in that direction, and you're right in that we should show our support... but the best way to do that is by pushing it to be the 'better' you and I both know it can be. The potential is there! Under assorted ingredients, but there." The banter was a welcome break, even if only for a few sentences; enough to get grounded, and so Sam heaved her most melodramatic sigh without a second thought. "Friggin' Dirge."

Her tone said 'that fucker,' quite clearly, overflowing with weary exasperation.

"I should've known---and that's a story. Before crackin' that can of worms, though..." She held up her hands, tone lightening---she'd've liked to laugh. "I'd sure like to think so. But, more than anything, I'm just me."

"You just can't see my artistic vision that's trying to express itself via mess," Hiro huffs, leaning back on the counter and letting the broom drop towards the floor, only to catch it with his feet. Because he's fourteen and the idea of staying still for more than seven seconds is inconceivable.

Sam's reaction to the mention of Dirge gets a sheepish laugh, which is really more relief that he's getting most of the irritation, rather than Hiro himself. "I kiiiiinda figured he was full of it, or exaggerating or whatever. Wasn't sure if he was totally lying though..."

But then this gets a frown, and a slight headshake. "Maybe to yourself, but I'll bet to whoever you helped out during the riots you're much more."

"You're right, I don't see an artistic vision. What I do see is right through that excuse." Sam grinned, and again elbowed her housemate. "I was working in an art gallery, you know. Before all of this."

Her grin shrank to a smile as her own words hit home; what remained was a little rueful, but a reassurance; it was okay. 'Before' was a world away, which was... bearable, even if it still stung, (and even if it stung more than it might've at the mention,) not that that mattered much. Hiro's assertion mattered more---at least, in her here-and-now---and so Sam shrugged concession, considered, and agreed: "An incorrigible anglophone, yeah. Even if I swear in sacres." The wiseacre answer widened her smile once more, and she shifted to sit more comfortably.

"What exactly did Dirge tell you?"

Edited 2015-04-29 23:52 (UTC)

"--nuh-uh. Were you seriously?" Hiro's going to lean in and squint a little, trying to imagine Sam offering a cheese plate and trivia about landscapes to snobby art patrons. Full disclosure: he knows nothing about art galleries.

It's easier to talk about other people's hypothetical "before", especially since Hiro already tended to think of his life in terms of "before" and "after, with one particular cataclysmic event dividing them. But Sam is overflowing with snark and teasing and even in the serious moment, that feels right.

The question is shrugged off, answered oh-so-casually, "That you were a witch who cursed people."

"Yeah, seriously. It was a smaller place, one of the ones that only showcases stuff for sale, but while also offering custom treatments for pieces purchased elsewhere. Matting, framing, mounting, that sort of stuff. It was actually pretty good; I liked having the hands-on stuff to do." Hiro's incredulity had sent her eyebrows up, but they sank as Sam bobbed a shoulder. "Dressing up I didn't mind, but I could do without 'as often'."

Small surprise; the tee she wore (that day, and more often that any other) advised its audience ♔ FREAK OUT AND THROW THINGS rather than keep calm or carry on.

"I haven't cursed anybody yet, but if that changes, it will probably be Dirge. I did threaten him the once, and it's a threat that I mean to make good on, since I'd said if he ate or otherwise killed a person I would take his ability to taste away. It's not something I've ever tried to do before, but.... I think it might be manageable."

Edited 2015-04-30 06:20 (UTC)

"...was it like...weird sculptures or splattery stuff or real art?" Again, most of what Hiro knows about art is gleaned from when art studios get smashed in the course of a monster movie. Also, he naturally thinks Sam has impeccable fashion sense (which doesn't mean much coming from a kid who owns maybe two pairs of pants).

The explanation is surprisingly benign, and well within what Hiro would consider a logical and rational response. So much so that he blinks a couple times and asks, without thinking -- "Sooooo not a newt, then."

"Real art, the on-canvas kind." The witch considered, frowned, and corrected herself; "Mostly. Every so often we had something mixed-media, but all of it was stuff you could fit into a frame."

Any additional elaboration---on her history, on art, or on the practical invoking of plausible magic---was lost at 'not a newt,' which derailed Sam's train of thought as effectively as torn tracks. The corner of her mouth tilting towards a smile, she spent several seconds just looking at Hiro before turning her eyes to the floor, to the ceiling, and only eventually back to the boy.

"Not a newt." The straight face she'd approximated fell away the instant her admission was out, and the 'why' was two words: "Not yet."

"Was it of, like...disaffected youth? Or close-ups of fruit?" Hiro still isn't totally confident that Sam worked with real art and not weird alternative stuff, the kind his Aunt Cass was always trying to hang in the cafe.

The reaction to Hiro's clarification gets an attentive, completely unperturbed look, waiting to see if maybe there had been some newt threats in the past that Sam had forgotten. Apparently not (disappointing), but Hiro takes comfort in the fact that it's still a possibility. "Maaaaybe...someday a newt?"

"Some and some, though there were also a lot of landscapes and abstracts, too." Although of the opinion most art was real art, Sam could understand why someone would ask after specifics---there were some notable exceptions... especially among 'performance' pieces. "A lot of it was actually really nice, but a lot of it was also overpriced like whoa. Though, I guess that's how it usually is."

Leaning back to prop herself up, with both arms behind her, she considered Hiro and his question---but briefly. Her conclusion? "You sound strangely hopeful. ...but that's not why I'll say 'maybe someday' a newt. No, I'll say 'maybe someday a newt' because there's a chance---slim, sure, but still significant!---that someday that'll be something I'm able to do."

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