one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]

[sadfreezingbrit_archive]

[ It's been almost a week since ex-mafia!Philip had a very unfortunate event run-in with still-mafia!Dean. The result? His previous Wonderland lives are still intact, but he's down one eye and his arm isn't doing so well either. And that's the understatement of the day.

So. It's been almost a week. Hardly enough time to heal all wounds (or any of them for that matter), but time enough for Philip to get over the worst and out of his room. Or try to, in any case.

Right now (now being 11 in the morning) he's standing in the kitchen, arduously slaving over his attempt at late breakfast. The injury to his right shoulder is difficult to hide, what with his arm in a sling. But at least his left eye (or lack thereof) is cleverly concealed behind a pair of sunglasses.

To reiterate: Kitchen. Breakfast. 11 o'clock. Right arm in sling. Ridiculous Fashionable sunglasses. Shattered glass.

...Shattered glass? ]

Jesus, not again.

[ Stepping aside Philip looks at the mess. After six days improvements are coming along at last, but missteps (or misgrabs, as it were) still happen all too often. Oh depth perception, he never knew how much he loved you until you were gone.

And yet the milk keeps dripping on the floor; cold, cruel and undeterred by his struggles and frustrations.

To continue: Paper towels. Broom. Scoop. New try. Deep sigh. ]

Comments

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Well, Santana is half right about both, so... good job! ]

Four fingers. It's a headache.

[ Deep breath. ]

Just... a bad headache.

[ Philip adjusts his sunglasses and turns away, suddenly remarkably fascinated by his cup of coffee (which he now managed to grab successfully). ]

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

Sure, whatever.

[She seems content to believe that, and quietly drinks her coffee. La la la, nice, friendly silence.]

I hear coffee's good for hangover headaches.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

What do you want, a breath test?

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

Since the last time you were drunk, you tried to attack me, I think I'm allowed to worry a little.

[See her concerned face? See how worried she looks? See her smile?? Wait.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Oh great, dive into his guilt supply, why don't you? ]

...As you can see I can barely make beakfast, let alone attack anybody. [ Beat. ] Not that I'd want to. Look, I...

[ Let's try this again, shall we? Surely a calm and rational explanation will be able to settle things. ]

I had an accident during the last event. I dislocated my shoulder and I hit my head. Badly. That's all.

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

[She knows her strengths.]

Hmm. [Sip sip sip. She looks at him with great scrutiny.] Okay, that sounds plausible. It also sounds a little battered-wife to me, but sure, we can go with that.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

A little what?

[ Siiiiip. ]

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

Battered-wife. You know, like someone's been beating you up and you're lying about it because you're embarrassed or ashamed or too scared to leave your husband.

[...She is clearly the most PC and stuff.]

1/4

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ SPITTAKE. ]

2/4

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ VIOLENT COUGH. ]

3/4

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ COUGH. ]

4/4

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ COUGH... COUGH... Ahem. ]

Oh. That. Right.

5/4

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

But...

[ Cleaning coffee spill. ]

Anyway, um... I was- was going to ask what--

[ Clearing throat. ]

What do you do, I-- I mean, at home, do-- Did you still go to school, or...?

{ Flawless recovery, Mrs Winchester. }

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

[...Well that wasn't a suspicious reaction at all. Not obvious that he didn't even bother to fake an answer. Santana will just keep this in mind, won't she. Yes. Yes she will.]

Uh-huh...

Yeah, I'm still in school. I'm a cheerleader. [No matter what Puck says about being demoted or whatever. She's still the best, dammit.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Cheerleading, really? That's--

[ Err. Something. Apart from having seen it in films he actually has no idea how to describe it. The girls who die first in most horror movies is probably what he'd go with. ]

I don't think I've ever met anyone who does that.

[ ...Sip. ]

And the music- the singing, I mean? Is that just a hobby?

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

I believe the word you're looking for is awesome. Because we are.

[Sip sip CRUNCH. That's the last bit of celery, in case the narration is confused.]

...I guess? I mean, I'm in freakin' glee club and I totally have one of the best voices if not the best, so.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Awesome. Okay. I'll keep that in mind.

[ Most sincerely too. His cheerleading data package has been expanded to include the word awesome.

Other expanded perceptions include a look at Santana's just-vanished celery, prompting the following question: ]

Hey, I was just making scrambled eggs, um... would you like some?

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

They aren't poisoned, right?

[Come on, that's totally the first thing you ask when someone offers you anything.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ @#$!**@#$!! ]

Not by me.

[ brb cracking eggs ]

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

[Why, narration, that is slightly suspicious! Santana will just...watch carefully as he cooks or whatever.]

Why do some people even bother cooking here? You can get whatever you want from the cupboards.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ I hate to say this, other narration, but your delusions regarding the nature of our cartoon cursing are a telltale sign of early stage paranoid schizophrenia.

What Philip meant was of course nothing but "@#$!**@#$!!, WHY can't she just let it go? I'm not having the best week as it is and I could stand her dropping the constant reminder".

One-eyeing her from under his sunglasses Philip takes her lack of actual response to the breakfast question to mean 'maybe' and adds two more eggs for her, just in case. ]

Why not?

[ Lalala, beating eggs in a weird one-armed fashion... ]

It's more fun that way.

[ La dee daa, mixing peppers and onions, heating butter, knocking over salt shaker before grabbing it again and using it... ]

Besides, it's not like we're short on time.

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

Fun? If you say so.

[Clearly, cooking and Santana do not go together. She watches every move he makes, though.]

Wow. Anything else you wanna throw in there? Carrots? Potatoes? A pot roast?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

...If you're about to tell me that I should preserve the eggy flavour I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

[ EGGS. ARE. SERIOUS. BUSINESS. And Philip will not have this debate again. ]

[itsahotone.livejournal.com]

[Staaaare.]

Uh, okay. Don't have a British hissy fit or anything; I was just saying. I've never seen anyone add that much to eggs before.

[Why no, she's not snickering at all. How dare you.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ If his eyes weren't obscured then his look would feel so sorry for Santana right now. ]

Peppers. And onions. That's two extra ingredients. Two. No mushrooms, sausages, bacon, cheese, tomatoes...

[ He'll just keep cooking while rattling off a large and partially horrifying list of things that can allegedly be added to scrambled eggs. Short of pot roast Santana wasn't even too far off. ]