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

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

[ 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. ]

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[ Philip received the notice, thank you very much. Hence the carefully chosen "branching out" rather than a plain "make a move on". Sadly neither seems to help much in ending that line of questioning, not when Dean's look says that he's not just letting go of that one.

No longer holding his breath to prepare for an Important Question^TM Philip first makes a point of sampling his scrambled eggs in all their bell peppered deliciousness. ]

Her name's Evelyn, er... Carnahan.

[ Just dropping that piece of information so Dean doesn't do around calling her Egypt lady. Which he probably will anyway, but at least now Philip can say that he tried. ]

She's...

[ Chewing... chewing... chewing... ]

...nice. She works in Cairo, translating and... cataloguing. Really-

[ Sip of coffee. ]

-interesting to talk to.

[Helping himself to his own breakfast, Dean watches Philip curiously.

He isn't promoting his new friend very well. Either he's worried that Dean is going to make a move on her - yeah, right, Cas would kill him - or the subject is just awkward.

Since when did Dean care about awkward?]

Wow, Phil, you could sell ice to an Eskimo. Nice? I ask you a critical question and all you give me is nice? What are you, scared of cooties?

[Seriously dude, ninety percent of the chicks here are eighteen and under, this is important.]

[ All of the following isn't so much said as rattled off at conspicuously accelerated speed. ]

So what, you need to know if she's attractive? She's attractive. Are you happy now or do you want a rating from one to ten?

[ The subject isn't awkward. He isn't worried that Dean is going to make a move on her. So why did the question make him feel uncomfortable?

More chewing. Philip would really like an answer to that himself. ]

[Dean loves it when Philip loses his cool. It's hilarious because it doesn't happen very often.]

Whoa, slow down, tiger - no need to get your panties in a wad. S'just an innocent question.

[A question dripping with innocence. Smothered in it, even. You can tell because of the harmless, well-meaning smile. That, my good man, is the face of an angel.]

[ As is this, but that doesn't mean there is anything harmless or well-meaning about it. ]

I'm sure it was.

[ Philip's gentle STAB into the scrambled eggs hits a piece of bell pepper. He points the fork at Dean's plate. ]

If you're bored with that yet you can try some of mine.

[~~Luci~~ Philip, you got some 'splaining to dooooo.]

I think I'll stick with my pepper-free cheesy eggs, thanks.

[The eggs he has almost finished inhaling, as a matter of fact. Dean pushes the plate of bacon he cooked across the counter and grins wider. His mood is almost always improved by Philip's impeccable bitching, and having new people in the mansion is kind of nice.

Unless they're crazy scientists bent on world-domination, but hey. You can't have everything.]

So Egypt lady talked about mummies?

[Dean is pretty sure that the only thing he knows about Egypt is that the King Tut dude had a whole lot of gold and all the important people involved in the dig died mysteriously.]

I didn't know those were still big. Egypt ain't exactly a safe place, the last time I checked. She's not from now, is she?

[He's gotten used to asking about time periods. There's just no telling anymore.]

1926. [ A beat. ]

And it wasn't mummies per se, just a- [ Let him see if he remembers that correctly. ] a legend about a high priest and a book that supposedly has the ability to raise the dead, the sort of thing that--

[ His fork taps the plate, expression just a little darker. ]

Just the sort of thing you see in films, the can't possibly be true kind, except that it always is.

Edited 2011-07-26 18:21 (UTC)

[Dean listens carefully, expression dubious. He would make some kind of clever remark about how the Roaring Twenties were a pretty swingin' time, and how all the women were loose, but everything that Philip says afterwards strikes a really funny chord in him.

Dean isn't the pop culture film buff for nothing.]

Dude, that's like...exactly the same as the Boris Karloff movie.

[The more he thinks about it, the weirder it all seems. Dean starts listing.]

Crazy Egyptian priest tries to resurrect his girlfriend with a fancy spellbook, gets mummified alive, comes back from the dead and finds another chick in the modern day - the thirties, or something - to take her place.

[If he could remember what the Hell the priest's name was, this might be even easier. He really ought to sit down and watch that film again. Boris Karloff is awesome.]

[ Philip was twelve when he saw that movie for the first and (so far) only time. So when Dean mentioned it earlier he didn't give it much thought beyond something something Karloff something something mummy.

Now he thinks back deliberately and cringes as he suddenly realises just why he couldn't help but think that despite his complete lack of Egyptian expertise he'd heard the name Imhotep before.

But then he thinks back to something else, something he does remember very clearly. It doesn't exactly reach into the cold pit of his stomach, but superficially it's more than enough to put his mind at ease. ]

Lucky for her she's not Zita Johann then.

Yeah, that'd suck. Hate to see a pretty girl get mummified.

[Dean contributes sagely, reaching across the counter for another piece of bacon. Taking a bite and using the piece of pork for gestural emphasis, he barrels on.]

Maybe it was a popular story back then. "Love for the ages" and all that.

[Because Hell, no one really cares about Egypt now unless it involves finding more gold in the Valley of the Whatever.

He mulls over the familiar tale, wondering how much could be non-fiction. Curses are legitimate, and supernatural stuff has been going on for a long, long time.]

Maybe the Egyptians were onto somethin' with all that afterlife mumbo-jumbo. [A shrug.] Pagan gods are real, so zombie high priests could be, right?

...But that's not how the film ends, is it?

[ It's not actually a question. Philip is fairly sure that Zita Evelyn Johann gets a lead female free pass to safety. ]

In any case, I'd rather they weren't.

[ He pokes his last piece of egg with little intention of ingesting it anytime soon. ]

I miss talking to people who lead normal, zombie-free lives.

[Zita ~~Evelyn~~ Johann is saved at the last minute by remembering that she's a reincarnation of an Egyptian princess, and she prays to the goddess Isis, whose statue explodes and destroys the text that brought the mummy to life in the first place.

Classic deus ex machina.

Literally.]

Glad someone can scratch that itch for you.

[Dean pushes his empty plate to the side, raising an eyebrow at Philip. In all honesty, he actually is happy that the guy has been talking to a civvie. The more people who don't have to live their lives, the better.]

She take the Wonderland news well?

[ Honest and actual happiness or not, Philip realises (too late, of course) that he made the wrong comment in front of the wrongest person. Foot, meet mouth. ]

I- I didn't mean-- I mean, you- it's just that I, what I was trying to-- Because you know--

[ Aaaaand mouth shut. ]

She... she did, she was-- Fine. All things considered.

[ ...guilty smoke-free physicist puppy look? ]

Edited 2011-07-26 20:26 (UTC)

[It doesn't bother Dean. It really, really doesn't. He used to that kind of thing, so he looks on in quiet amusement as Ray Charles over there tries to get his bearings and think of something less offensive to say.]

Dude, chill.

[The crooked smile is forgiving, and he takes another sip of coffee.]

You're preachin' to the choir, now. I used to, uh... [Dean laughs.] Used to try and get one normal conversation a week, with a random stranger. Didn't matter who, it was just nice, y'know?

[Looking down into his mug, he purses his lips. It feels great to be a regular person sometimes. Keeps you grounded. Keeps you sane. Maybe even hopeful. People are resilient as Hell.]

Seriously, it's good. I mean, I get it. God knows there are people out there who don't see half the stuff we do but need the talking just the same.

[He grins into his drink.]

And it helps if they're cute.

[Snicker.]

[ Relief... relief... EYEROLL. Sip of coffee. ]

If you say so.

[ While Philip stares into his cup pensively the narration will gladly take a moment to explain what he himself hasn't figured out and probably won't grasp anytime soon either:

Philip currently has no intention of making a move on Evelyn or anyone else in Wonderland. Not only that, but he has forced himself into a mindest that doesn't even allow romance as a potential option. The scenario has been locked in a crate and tossed into the dark basement of his mind.

Only Dean's question, the perfectly innocent way he asked, shone a light on it, a sign saying HEY, REMEMBER RELATIONSHIPS? THEY ARE STILL A THING. THEY DID NOT STOP EXISTING.

And that is a sign Philip can't possibly allow himself to follow. Because it means imagining to care- to really care about somebody. And in the same breath it means remembering what Clarence does to people Philip cares about and finally it ends in a gruesome and bloody theory titled 'Things Clarence does to People Philip Really Cares About'.

And nobody deserves that fate.

Meanwhile the narration is glad that its morose explanation will do nothing to dampen the mood of Philip who has at least found a good topic of conversation instead of the answers to his discomfort. ]

...Did you meet anyone new lately? Sometimes I think I don't check the network nearly as often as I should.

[Dean Winchester is of the firm opinion that a little lovin' ~~wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more~~ never hurt anybody - especially not here - but if he did stop to think about the implications of Philip getting close to people, he'd shy away from suggesting things so readily. After all, he's been on the receiving end of Clarence's tender demonstrations of affection.

But an alien headvoice can't hate everybody, right? It just seems a bit counterproductive.

Still. Relationships are important. Dean used to be the guy that shut himself away. Brilliant how he's transferred his freakish codependency problems to other people here.]

Couple weirdos. Another singing teenager. A talking horse.

[You know, the usual. He really ought to get on the communicator more, but Dean hates first impressions to be of him with one eye. Man, he misses being symmetrical.

Dean wishes he could encounter young women in distress, too, but they're in short supply around here.]

I swear, dude, I'm just waiting for this place to turn into a friggin' High School Musical.

Um, rewind that one for a second.

[ Weirdos and singing teenagers seem a part of Wonderland's natural ecosystem, but the ability to play Dr Dolittle has yet to fall into Philip's hands. ]

Talking horse? As in 'stomps its feet, reacts to your words' sort of talking, like that- [ He cringes a little ] -that crocodile from the tenth floor or... or like '"How do you do?", having an actual conversation' talking?

{ Sounds pretty far-fetched, right? Least now you know how I feel watchin' you monkeys jabbering about all day. }

No, I, uh...I had a conversation with a horse.

[This doesn't seem to bother him as much as it should, but he's been in Wonderland a pretty long time, now, and he's seen almost everything.]

It was...sorta yellow, talked with a country accent. It had an apple stamped on its ass. And it was wearing a cowboy hat.

[Oh, also-]

I wish I was joking, man, but it said it's name was "Applejack." Made me really want that cereal.

I really shouldn't find that so hard to believe, should I?

[ Philip forces a laugh and rubs his temple. Talking animals. He knows the sentiment is misplaced, but that revelation still feels a lot like the last straw of sanity burning down to a few grains of ash, despite everything that's happened here before. ]

...Did you ever wonder how-- Did you ever wonder why it's us? Why- why we showed up here and not... other people? Other horses? [ Snerk. ]

Edited 2011-07-29 21:12 (UTC)

[Dean stopped pretending he was sane a long, long time ago. Not that it ever bothered him when people told him he was crazy, but still.]

You mean in a cosmic "maybe God thought it would be hilarious" kind-of-way? [Dean shrugs.] I dunno. Interdimensional Hotel California seems more like limbo than anything else, 'cept I know I wasn't dead before I got here.

[Oh, well. The wheel in the sky keeps turning.]

Maybe it's just 'cause we're so awesome. You think it's because we're so awesome?

[Dean Winchester attempts lightening the mood, Take 1.]

I was hoping to find a more scientific reason, but I'll take it.

{ Can we please just go talk to the horse instead? }

[ Plate empty. Mug empty. Philip's work here is done. This would be the part where Philip retreats to knock back another dose of painkillers, subsequently spending the rest of the day in bed, lacking the focus to read, watch films or do anything else that could be considered entertainment.

He wants to ask if Dean felt quite as miserable after his involuntary enucleation. And if so he really wants to ask when it's going to stop, but no matter the context, Philip knows better than to bring up the injury voluntarily. ]

...Any plans for later today?

[Dean was worse than miserable after having his eye stabbed, ripped out, and eaten. He didn't want to do anything at all, not for the first few weeks. Forcing himself to hold that pirate party was as much excitement as he could muster, just to give people the appearance that he was okay. Physical recovery only took about six weeks. Psychological recovery might take forever.

This is an incredibly vain person we're talking about, though. Dean likes his pretty-boy looks: they get him what he wants, and not having one beautiful green eye makes it a little harder to charm people. Things have gotten better since then, certainly, but he's still not happy.

Then again, when was he ever completely happy?]

Nah, not really.

[He stretches and feels his shoulders pop.]

Might wander down to the beach since the weather's warm. I sorta hate the library, and it ain't just 'cause I can't play music there. Damn thing never gives a straight answer.

Why, what did you ask?

[ Philip has been fairly lucky with the research he did, not counting the complete lack of answers concerning his father's book. ]

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