Re: badinage | 7-31-2020 | 9am
Like a good daughter, Eva delivered unto her father a mimosa. Waffles were, as usual and one way or another, turning into an all-day affair. "He won't tell us all the ingredients. He said we each get told one on his death bed," she explained to Nate with a glance before returning her eyes to her dad. "Yes, sir," she nodded, "neaese." She was fine. Shaken, but fine. Communicating through her mutation to an extreme, but fine.
She then stole a pecan from atop his piled plate and closed her eyes as she chewed to steel herself for the approach of J'moy.
"Let's get retarded in here!" Troy hollered the since-cancelled lyric to one of his favorite now-vintage jams. He wove his way through the house, lingering briefly at each plant he passed to make sure it wasn't malnourished or lonely, then entered the kitchen to find that there was still plenty of yuppie chow. "Want waffles," he greeted. He proceeded to pour his own batter into the pre-heated waffler because he liked his shit crisp. Tongue pop.
"Hey brother..." Zap said creepily.
"Whaddup Momosa?" he replied without looking up.
"¡Ahí está el hermano guapo!" Jimmy had come in and she grinned at him, mostly at Troy's expense, but also because she loved him. "Non-Forge eggs, hash browns and extra bacon in the warmer drawer."
"He wishes he had these lips..." Troy muttered, quite-a-butt-hurt about the hashbrown report to Warpath.
Zap took the spare moment to glance at Nate, who had his phone in hand, and was asking about her closet spaces. Her eyebrow quirked and her stomach fluttered.