[By his room, Tom can only imagine. Which prompts him to consider putting things back to normal a little bit. Kick his dirty pants under the bed. As a reaction to what happened over Halloween Tom has pulled up his carpet and rolled it against the wall. He bled all over it and it was pretty ruined, but Wonderland probably could have fixed that. Tom really just wanted to get at the floorboards. Hes taken this Devil's Trap thing pretty seriously (and really, can you blame him?) He never wants to be in the same position he was a few weeks ago ever again. Ever. And so hes gotten down to the bones and taken to carving a giant trap directly into the floor. It's mostly done, but he's injured and these things take time. Especially if you're being as obsessive about perfection as he.]
[See, Blake can appreciate some obsessions. He's particularly neat about his life and the world around him. Anything within his control is placed in line and that's just the way of John Blake. So, when he knocks on Tom's door and lets himself in, arms full of food containers, he's only a bit surprised.
The half-finished Devil's Trap is what catches his attention, but he refrains from joking that he'd come to the wrong room.]
Hey, hey, how 'bout a hand before I go droppin' our food all over your nicely carved floor?
[It wouldn't be an inappropriate observation all things considered.
Tom's attention snaps to the door the second it opens and he jumps up to help.]
Hey [He takes some of the load from Blake's arms and nods at a small dining table tucked in the corner.]
Smells good, what's cookin'?
[His room is surprisingly big. Enough for two people. Which makes sense seeing as Jo has practically moved in. Tonight, though, they're on their own. Men left to their own devices. Danger.]
[Not just pork chops, but the kind that come with the mustard sauce and are perfectly broiled to perfection. Along with that, Blake's brought some freshly cooked green beans and some parsley potatoes.
He unloads a few of the containers on Tom and then procures the table to set it all out.]
[Tom pulls plates and the required cutlery from the closet, placing it on the table before doubling back for something to drink. Magic closets. Fuck yes.]
No, she's, uh. [He fishes around and pulls back a case of beer. Something in green he's not familiar with but he sometimes leaves the brand up to the closet. It usually results in some random import he might of seen once in a grocery store but never actually bought. A little gamble. Tonight's beer is Tuborg, a pale Danish lager. Light, crisp and cold. Perfect.
Tom picks it up and comes back to the table, setting the case to the side and breaking it open before producing a bottle opener.
As for John's question Tom can only give a vague gesture before cracking open the bottles and placing them on the table.]
[John wastes no time in serving out generous portions, his goal to get them eating up all the leftovers. To be fair, he could throw it out and no one would starve for it, but Blake's never been one to waste (plus, it was a new recipe and he'd thought it'd turned out pretty well, all things considered).]
Yeah, totally okay. [He's not sure why it wouldn't be, but maybe it had to do with that whole fiasco not all that long ago.] Sounds like a good time.
[As everything's dished onto the plate, he takes up one of the beers and takes a seat at the table, casual as he may.]
[Tom considers the question for a moment and digs in, giving Blake the universal This is damn good nod and grunt. Ugh, he's hungry. Tom even takes his arm out of his sling so he can use his knife better. Get. This. Food. Into. His. Mouth.
They should hang out more often. Tom can't cook for shit and room service? Blake is welcome any time.]
Not on this end. Calm before the storm, I think.
[Come to think of it, this is really the first time they've hung out. Any other time hes seen John it was in passing or during an event while everyone is concerned with safety. Or. You know. Blake saving his ass from Dean.]
{Well, to be fair, saving his ass from Dean and room service are both things Blake is happy to provide. Oddly enough, feeding people is probably the most outward sign of affection he has, so if you're getting a care package, the odds are pretty favorable that he's got your back.
He waits to chew his food before replying, waving his fork around like it's some kind of baton directing a symphony.]
Everythin' but the beer. Had rolls, too, but somehow managed to burn them. Figure that one out.
[He shrugs and goes back to eating. In the meantime, his attention focuses on Tom. Now, with his nearly daily interaction with Dean's Mirror, there are far too many of this face to keep straight. Thankfully, they're all pretty distinctive.]
You like the green beans? Put a little mustard powder on 'em. Think it sorta ties everythin' together.
[He shrugs, merrily munching on a bite of food. When his mouth's clear again, he sips at his beer and then answers.]
Don't feel bad, most people don't. Never quite got why. Somethin' 'bout my look, maybe. Or my upbringin'. Nice to still be able to surprise people, though.
Never got the chance to learn. My dad and I lived on tv dinners.
[Tv dinners, school lunches, a girlfriend with a functional family followed by state funded meal plans. He'd never needed to. A little here and there when he's been on his own but most of the places he'd stayed were either by the kindness of strangers or were lucky to have a microwave.]
Jo is tryin' to teach me but I think I cause more harm than good.
[There's something endearing about trying to imagine Tom bustling around Jo, undoing more than he's doing. It's an odd picture, but an endearing one, and he imagines that Tom and Jo appreciate every moment of it now that they're freely together.]
Just gotta be bold. Even screwin' up the pie's gonna make her smile if you're smart 'bout it. [He grins a little.] Think you are, too. But if you're lookin' for advice, try practicin' on the side so you can impress her later.
Like Scotty on Star Trek, y'know? Say it's gonna take five hours, so you're a miracle worker when you're gettin' in done in two.
Ah, all this stuff? [Blake chuckles at that and shakes his head.]
Dunno 'bout all I know — might be steerin' you wrong. Had my share of girlfriends, though. Boyfriends, too. Trust me, progress I've made ain't comin' from that.
[Dating is a miserable thing and you can't convince him otherwise.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Text;
Text;
Text;
River's back, did you see?
Text;
Yeah, I heard. We talked a little. She seems good except for the memory thing. :(
Text;
Text;
Is River staying with you? How's things otherwise? Is Jo doing okay?
Text;
Jo's ok I think. Pretty shook up. Her Mirror is a nasty piece of work.
Text;
You guys need anything? I can bring by some dinner.
Text;
Sure. Let's do dinner.
Text;
Action;
Action;
The half-finished Devil's Trap is what catches his attention, but he refrains from joking that he'd come to the wrong room.]
Hey, hey, how 'bout a hand before I go droppin' our food all over your nicely carved floor?
Action;
Tom's attention snaps to the door the second it opens and he jumps up to help.]
Hey [He takes some of the load from Blake's arms and nods at a small dining table tucked in the corner.]
Smells good, what's cookin'?
[His room is surprisingly big. Enough for two people. Which makes sense seeing as Jo has practically moved in. Tonight, though, they're on their own. Men left to their own devices. Danger.]
Action;
[Not just pork chops, but the kind that come with the mustard sauce and are perfectly broiled to perfection. Along with that, Blake's brought some freshly cooked green beans and some parsley potatoes.
He unloads a few of the containers on Tom and then procures the table to set it all out.]
Jo's not havin' any? Brought enough for her, too.
Action;
No, she's, uh. [He fishes around and pulls back a case of beer. Something in green he's not familiar with but he sometimes leaves the brand up to the closet. It usually results in some random import he might of seen once in a grocery store but never actually bought. A little gamble. Tonight's beer is Tuborg, a pale Danish lager. Light, crisp and cold. Perfect.
Tom picks it up and comes back to the table, setting the case to the side and breaking it open before producing a bottle opener.
As for John's question Tom can only give a vague gesture before cracking open the bottles and placing them on the table.]
I think she's seeing her mom tonight.
[He thinks. He doesn't know.]
Guess it's just us if that's ok?
Action;
Yeah, totally okay. [He's not sure why it wouldn't be, but maybe it had to do with that whole fiasco not all that long ago.] Sounds like a good time.
[As everything's dished onto the plate, he takes up one of the beers and takes a seat at the table, casual as he may.]
Any news?
Action;
They should hang out more often. Tom can't cook for shit and room service? Blake is welcome any time.]
Not on this end. Calm before the storm, I think.
[Come to think of it, this is really the first time they've hung out. Any other time hes seen John it was in passing or during an event while everyone is concerned with safety. Or. You know. Blake saving his ass from Dean.]
D'you make this?
Action;
He waits to chew his food before replying, waving his fork around like it's some kind of baton directing a symphony.]
Everythin' but the beer. Had rolls, too, but somehow managed to burn them. Figure that one out.
[He shrugs and goes back to eating. In the meantime, his attention focuses on Tom. Now, with his nearly daily interaction with Dean's Mirror, there are far too many of this face to keep straight. Thankfully, they're all pretty distinctive.]
You like the green beans? Put a little mustard powder on 'em. Think it sorta ties everythin' together.
Action;
I didn't take you for the cookin' type, officer.
[Tom's idea of city cops is Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality. Shitty apartment, instant coffee, and a fridge full of microwave dinners.]
Action;
Don't feel bad, most people don't. Never quite got why. Somethin' 'bout my look, maybe. Or my upbringin'. Nice to still be able to surprise people, though.
You do much cookin'?
Action;
[Must be nice to be handy in the kitchen.
Tom takes another bite and shakes his head no.]
Never got the chance to learn. My dad and I lived on tv dinners.
[Tv dinners, school lunches, a girlfriend with a functional family followed by state funded meal plans. He'd never needed to. A little here and there when he's been on his own but most of the places he'd stayed were either by the kindness of strangers or were lucky to have a microwave.]
Jo is tryin' to teach me but I think I cause more harm than good.
Action;
Just gotta be bold. Even screwin' up the pie's gonna make her smile if you're smart 'bout it. [He grins a little.] Think you are, too. But if you're lookin' for advice, try practicin' on the side so you can impress her later.
Like Scotty on Star Trek, y'know? Say it's gonna take five hours, so you're a miracle worker when you're gettin' in done in two.
Action;
How is it you know all this stuff?
Had a lot of girlfriends?
Action;
Dunno 'bout all I know — might be steerin' you wrong. Had my share of girlfriends, though. Boyfriends, too. Trust me, progress I've made ain't comin' from that.
[Dating is a miserable thing and you can't convince him otherwise.]
Action;
Did he- What? Come again?
He puts the fork down and draws his brow, not exactly sure if what he heard was right and, if it was, how to deal with that.]
Boyfriends?
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action; sure got accidental homophobia up in hurr
Action; sure did!
Re: Action; sure did!
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;
Action;