(no subject)

[tragic_mask]

Arriving at the Visitor's Center, Melpomene takes a look around.

"Well, this is it. In all its touristic glory. "

Comments

[tragic_mask]

"That's the best philosophy to have, I think."

[mechanicalswans]

"...I hope it's good enough."

[tragic_mask]

"We won't know until it fails us, I suppose."

... and then she walks along, in silence.

[mechanicalswans]

His hand seeks hers as he walks beside her.

Just focusing on his cigarette, and trying not to think.

[tragic_mask]

She: thinking too much, probably, but not saying any of it out loud.

Sometimes silence is the best kind of sound.

[mechanicalswans]

Silence doesn't bother him.

At least, as long as it's not an awkward silence, which this doesn't seem to be, to him.

He offers her a cigarette, though.

[tragic_mask]

She accepts it gratefully, and asks, "Got a light, mister?" because she knows he always does.

[mechanicalswans]

"Of course, dearest," he says, taking a lighter from his pocket and obliging.

"It's a shame it's banned in so many restaurants."

[tragic_mask]

"Mm," she says, taking a puff. "Why, so we could eat and smoke at the same time? I rarely go out to eat, anyway..."

[mechanicalswans]

"But you eat like a model, liebchen," he says with a chuckle. "I eat like a farmboy. And I like to have a smoke while I do."

[tragic_mask]

"Well, I'm sorry I don't need to eat," she says. "But I'll be happy to smoke like a rebel with you, in the restaurants."

[mechanicalswans]

"We can just as well get takeout," he says. "I don't like to spend longer in public, at least back home, than I have to. So I usually eat at home."

[tragic_mask]

She thinks back.

"Didn't you say you lived above some sort of restaurant, and got take-out there? That seems the ideal."

[mechanicalswans]

"I do," he says, "and that's why. My mechanical woman doesn't eat, though she does cook--I cook also, but I don't enjoy it."

[tragic_mask]

"You know, there are certainly similarities between cooking and smithing," she says. "Both generally require heat to create a finished product, both involve taking one thing and shaping it into another..." She pauses.

"Though I admit the two crafts are quite different, in other ways."

[mechanicalswans]

"I like desserts I can set on fire," he says, "and grilling, of course. I do like to grill. I don't get to very often, living in an apartment, but sometimes, in the forge..."

He smiles.

[tragic_mask]

"I'm sure it's a thrilling experience."

[mechanicalswans]

"Well, if you're sacrificing animals anyway," he says with a light shrug, "and it is tiring work. A man can work up quite an appetite."

[tragic_mask]

"No doubt..." she says, taking another drag on her dying cigarette.

[mechanicalswans]

"If you'd like me to cook for you, I'd be happy to do it," he says. "Or take care of it in private, for myself, so we can focus our time on things other than food."

[tragic_mask]

"I don't mind watching you eat," she says, smiling. "But you don't have to cook. Also, I should let you know that I'm an adventurous cook, if not a good one-- I like mixing different things, just to see what happens. If nothing else, my lack of need for food makes me create more... interesting... cuisine."

[mechanicalswans]

"...are you making curry cheesecake?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I'd try anything you might make; I prefer things that taste good and aren't poison, but those aren't absolute requirements."

[tragic_mask]

"Haven't tried that one yet," she says, perhaps a bit too thoughtfully. "Though I did manage a Thanksgiving smoothie, at one point. All the nutrients of Thanksgiving in one large gulp."

Probably best if she stops there. So, she does.

[mechanicalswans]

"...did it have both the turkey and the pie?" he asks. "As long as it had the dessert too, I'd give it a try."

It's not entirely clear whether he's joking.

[tragic_mask]

"Of course," she says gravely. "Pumpkin."