Who: Dante & Mallory What: Housemates meeting Where: The kitchen of the Lot household When: BACKDATED to sometime before January 19th Warnings: None
Normally a run to the kitchen would be at most a few minutes, but in Mallory's case, it was an adventure. She hadn't grown accustomed to the layout of the new house nor the size of it, so finding the kitchen where the snacks were stashed took longer than her growling stomach really cared for.
But, she had made it. She had made it and the cabinet bearing the cookies was thrown open without a seconds hesitation. Mm, chocolate chip.
Dante had a knack for finding his way in the large new house. It was so much smaller than his old palace that he would horrified if he became lost in such a place. However, he did not know why he did not keep snacks anywhere else in the house yet. Not his private "study", not in the basement, not in any of the other rooms he frequented. It was just inconvenient...
Alas, he had no choice but to venture there. He had grown hungry playing Phoenix Wright. But his wife was not home for now, and he had forgotten another person lived there as he wandered through the halls with his Nintendo DS and entered the kitchen, "Objection. Dahlia's dead. She can't still be causin' trouble..."
The words caused Mallory to turn her attention away from the box of cookies temporarily, and turned to watch who was obviously Dahlia's husband playing the video game. "Well, hi there," she said after a moment from her spot on the counter.
Dahlia was a ghost? ... Wait, someone was speaking to him.
Dante looked up from his game and to the only other living being in the house right now, holding back his surprise at seeing her as best he could as he closed the DS and slipped it into his back pocket. One of these days he would remember that his wife had an attendant, more or less, in the house. "Hello." He glanced to the cookies she was eating, "See you're eatin' cookies..." Gods, he was bad at small talk. Let the awkwardness begin.
"Yes I am," Mallory answered with a small smirk on her face. This was kind of amusing. Then, she held out the box as if to offer the man a few. "Want some? Chewy chocolatey goodness~"
Quickly, he motioned no with a hand before moving to the refrigerator. "Don't really care for chocolate that much... Thanks for the offer though..." There had to be something in this refrigerator to eat that didn't require preparation or cooking or... Ah ha, fresh Mozzarella ball. He pulled it out and grabbed a knife before sitting on the very edge of the bench of the kitchen nook only a few feet away from Mallory. Close enough to probably have to continue with conversation, "So, do you like it here?"
She nodded. "Yea. Better than living in a shoddy dorm room. Besides, it feels homey. Almost creepy, but comfortable nonetheless."
Almost creepy, but comfortable nonetheless was pretty much Dante's definition of homey. He had fought it for forty years, but watching one of the ghosts drift through the hallway, invisible from her vision but clear as day to his, he could deny it no longer it seemed.
He cut a sliver of the mozzarella and popped it into his mouth, completely comfortable eating off the edge of a knife as he finally sighed, "Okay, confession time. Have no idea what I should be sayin' to you."
Blink.
Mallory stared at him for a moment, before turning to the hallway where she saw nothing, then back to him. "...Say what?"
"In general. Mean..." Dante put down the knife and the mozzarella ball for a moment to consider his words, "You're Dahlia's assistant and I'm her husband, but we don't really have a connection outside of her..."
"Well," she chewed on another cookie for a second in thought, before responding. "That's true. But it doesn't mean we have to be strangers in the same house. I mean, you did let her have me tag along."
Dante nodded to this before returning to his food, "But as of now, we are strangers living in the same house..."
Mallory quirked an eyebrow at him. Why did she get that same familiar feeling from him than she did with Dahlia? "Would you rather it remained that way?"
"Not especially." He ate another sliver of cheese off his knife as he considered the situation in general. "Dahlia likes you and wanted to keep you near her. That makes you part of her life. Don't want parts of her life foreign to me."
Not quite the response she was expecting but, oh well. "Alright then. Ask me anything."
The fact that she was not expecting such a response proved that they were still strangers to each other. He lowered his eyes thinking of what he actually wanted to know, "How did you two meet?"
"I had to do portrait shots for my independant study assignment, apparently she owed my professor a favor and became my subject." Mallory replied with a small shrug and over the course of another cookie. At this rate, she was going to eat the whole box.
Dante allowed himself to be amused at the sight of how she was going through the cookies. Suddenly, he was glad he didn't like chocolate in most applications. He could easily see himself going through a box like that very quickly as well. Still there were more questions, "But how did you find yourself moved in with her?"
"Mmm, tuition." She shrugged. "I was spending so much time running around between classes and Dahlia that I was only at my dorm to sleep, and even that was a lucky shot. She figured it would just be cheaper for me and easier."
"She was always kind..." He said absently as he tried to imagine the event. The girl being run haggard and his wife taking her in, not allowing her to destroy herself with exhaustion. It was something he could clearly see.
He turned his attention back to Mallory, and only briefly passed her to now two ghosts in the hallway talking to each other. Perhaps it was an event for the spirits to see him and her actually speaking to each other for more than a few words at a time. No matter. He wouldn't concern himself with them right now, "This house isn't too far from your commute is it?"
"Not at all. Even if it was, I wouldn't mind. I'd prefer a place a little out of the way to directly downtown anyway." Which wasn't suprising coming from a country girl.
That actually did manage to get him to smile. "Seems we do have things in common besides just Dahlia. Know I would rather have some place I can retreat to and relax than always bein' in a hustle and bustle. Hence this place. Not too far away but out of the way enough." Though the fact that is was completely haunted was the main selling point for him.
"A place to retreat to is always a good thing. When I had the dorm I would often hide in the darkroom to get away, or sneak into the basement." Considering pretty forests with plants and flowers were fairly... slim... around most of Miami.
Hmm, this Mallory had certainly found herself the right couple to
become attached to then. Dante pushed aside his food and blade and
gave the girl his full attention. He rarely liked people but this one
he liked. After all, they shared enough similar interests snacking,
the desire to have a retreat, comfort in dark places, Dahlia... That
was more than most people would ever have really. “Used to try to
avoid dark, underground places for many years myself, but lately I
realized that was a foolish thing to do. They're too good to hide in
when the world is becoming too insane. Luckily this house has tons of
little corners to do so in.”
"People always think to look in dark, underground places." Mallory replied with an almost-too-certain nod. "I've always liked disappearing into the woods."
"Not when I go to the dark, underground places they don't." Dante shrugged slightly and shoved away the melancholy of the statement. It was eternal autumn and he would not brood. "The woods are nice to if they are old woods with tall trees that have an interlocking canopy. Like a wood with old growth popular or cypress trees." The fact that those were his sacred trees was not the fact he liked forests like that. Nope, nope.
She shrugged, and started in on another cookie. "Oak trees are my favourite, but I like pretty much any kind of forest. So long as it's not an area with a snake infestation. Won't step foot in that one."
He considered it, "If they are big enough, they give the same effect of shade and security. Just don't bring a horse with you. You'll get it addicted to poison oak leaves and that will not be pretty." Dante paused his words briefly as a shiver went down his spine and when he looked down he could see Pooky, the little Sharpei ghost-pup sitting at his feet under the table Hopefully Mallory would not look down in the next ten seconds since the little pup would be visible having touched him by running through his shin just then. "Snakes aren't too bad as long as they aren't poisonous. Its the poisonous ones that you have to watch out for."
Luckily, she didn't. She was too busy visibly cringing at Dante's statement about snakes. "I don't like them at all. Never did. Probably never will."
"They have their uses." Like having them bind people to chairs forever. Dante smiled at that particular memory before shoving it aside as well. He had noticed the cringe, "But don't worry, no snakes here. The house is a snake free zone."
Not to her, no way, no how. "I would certainly hope so. Don't want to end up having to walk around brandishing a stick in paranoia." Mallory muttered and eyes the rest of the box of cookies. To finish it, or not to...
"Trust me, would be doin' the same thing." Snakes could mean Zeus in snake form and he would not abide his brother lurking and snooping. No matter how unlikely that scenario was. Then Dante caught sight of her eyes going to the cookie box. There was only a few left so he nudged it closer to her.
Mallory briefly glanced from the box to Dante and back. "You know, if I at all cared about my figure, you'd be a horrible influence." She snickered and scooped up the box. Might as well at this point.
"Dahlia's a super model. If you ever did care and wanted to shed the pounds," Dante shifted a little and put his DS on the table, it was getting uncomfortable with it in his back pocket, "positive she has heard of some crazy diet that would get rid of them in some short period of time."
"That's doubtful," Mallory said with a small shrug before looking back to Dante. "Any other get-to-know-the-stranger-in-your-house questions?"
"Hmm," Dante tried to think. He was usually so good at questions, but his normal questions determining if Mallory was a good person or not were answered by Dahlia liking her. She only rarely showed lapses of judgment. "Not that I can think of right now. Not like you don't live here if I have more. Got any for me? Just as much of a stranger to you."
The brunette sat quietly for a moment, obviously thinking up something to ask. "Okay, generic question. How did you meet Dahlia?"
Funny, somehow how the royal couple of the Underworld had forgotten about making up a cover story. Well, using the truth but twisting it would just make it easier to remember if he ever had to say it again. "Met in Europe. She was in a park when I saw her. Was in love with her at first sight and she was captivated enough with me..."
"Ah, the ever-romantic story." She nodded. Hey, it was possible. "And what do you do, outside of the show business? Just hide in dark corners?"
"Besides dote on Dahlia?" His favorite of all hobbies. Now Dante had to think again. What did he do besides his job? Has to be something because he has the job so he could slack off. "Recently, mostly video games and martial arts mediation. Sometimes I like to give a substantial amount of money to a small deserving charity anonymously to see them freak out over it." He was a man of simple, yet also highly expensive, joys. "When I was younger I used to go to concerts a lot, but all the bands I would go to either burnt themselves out on drugs or things like that."
"Well, I noticed the DS." She said with a small nod. "The meditation thing is interesting. My brain is always too active to be able to relax enough to do that sort of thing."
"Yeah, so's mine." He motioned for her to sit at the table with him. Leaning up against the counter didn't seem right for a conversation. At least he was pretty sure it wasn't. It wasn't like Dante especially knew the rules to conversations within houses between non-family members. "That's why I need to be active to meditate. Get my brain to work on the activity so it can be free from the thoughts."
Taking the hint, Mallory hopped down from her spot on the countertop and abandoned the empty box of cookies. She'd throw it out later. "I still never did very well with it, probably never will." Oh well.
"Only people who even try are those who are reaching for the heavens or desperate to escape personal hells." It came out so casually, so matter-of-factly, in the same tone people spoke of the weather as he shrugged a little. But now he eyed her, "Which are you?"
There was a subconscious shift in her shoulders, a mark of slight discomfort at the question though she didn't notice she even did it. "Out of the two? The latter, though it was more the thought of what was most likely my personal hell." Mallory replied, and carefully turned to look into the man's face. She certainly escaped something in coming here.
"The thought of your personal hell?" He couldn't help but be curious in his questioning. And he had noticed the shift in her shoulders, the discomfort she now wore as an invisible mantle, but ignored it for now. After all, he was very accustomed to people being uncomfortable around him. It was almost comforting. almost.
"It was either striking out on my own or following my parents to a new area to god knows what." Probably more financial struggling, boredom, and other such non-pleasant imaginings.
Aw, Dante had been hoping it would be more interesting. He had thought he had escaped the land of small talk, but no. He had been wrong. Back to one of his own personal hells then. though the parent part was interesting. He liked hearing about people's parents. "Parents move around a lot?"
Though she was more than comfortable not talking about it, she shook her head. "No. Just were forced to move."
Forced to move? Internally, he frowned, but he fought the expression from actually reaching his face, remaining emotion-neutral. That could mean so many things. The mind that had thought up thousands upon thousands of ironically poetic punishments easily could come with dozens of horrible things that it could mean. But this was why he was bad at small talk, "Forced to move?"
She shrugged. "The state forced us out, lost our farm and all that." The girl talked as if it was nothing but a distant, unimportant story despite the fact it was not long ago that it happened. Months, maybe. "Nothing particularly intersting."
Don't just go out and buy that farm. Don't just go out and buy that farm. It was a mantra that repeated over and over again in Dante' s skull before it was replaced with a different one. Mostly, why hasn't Persephone bought this farm for her by now? Forcing the bizarre instinct back of wishing to buy away past miseries from people, he nodded trying to be sympathetic -- his time in Miami had made him much better at it than when he first came, "It sounds interesting. What happened to your folks?"
"They moved out to Colorado, since there were some other family members out that way. Not sure exactly what they're up to." Because, well, she was here. And she wasn't the good daughter that regularly called to check in.
"Why didn't you go with them? Don't like the cold like Dahlia?" That last sentence had came out a bit sadder than Dante had meant. Deep down he understood why she didn't like the cold. Even rationally he understood. She was a spring goddess, but then again. emotions did not need to be rational or even right. But he shook his head, that was not what this discussion was about.
Mallory's gaze turned away from Dante and she sighed. "Didn't think there was anything for me there. Still don't." As much as she loved being outdoors, she didn't want to end up some pathetic little farm girl her whole life.
"Well," he glanced around the kitchen/dining area, "Looks like you probably made the right choice. Work for a super model, live in a mansion pretty much. Fate must have been tired of smackin' you around."
That caused a slight snicker. "Let's hope it stays that way then." The snicker did turn into a smile, though, the more she thought about it. He was right, and no lecturing voicemail could change that.
"Who knows? Maybe yer bein' rewarded finally because of some past life or somethin'. Just had to get through a much of trials." He knew he certainly didn't know, much to his chagrin. "Like having to pay a bunch of money before you get the year long pass to Disney World."
"Maybe." She said with a small laugh. "But I'm perfectly fine with it."
"Best not to look the gift horse in the mouth, I guess." But now Dante frowned. He couldn't help it and he brought his dark eyes to her, "Lived on a farm you said. Do you know why that phrase means what it means?"
She nodded. "You judge if a horse is a good horse by looking at its mouth. So yea, I get it."
Now the judge in him was confused. It didn't help that the only horses' teeth he was familiar with were his dreadmares with their razor sharp, pointed horror shows. He was pretty sure that was not normal. "Really? The teeth? Would've guessed checkin' their feet."
"Yea. You can determine the horse's age by counting his teeth, and you can determine the quality of a horse by certain markings within the mouth." She shrugged. "Not that I've ever done it, or can compare mouth and feet. I just rode them around."
"Kinda wish horses weren't so similar to trees." There it was. It was in his head now. Horse and Tree in the same sentence and now he had to block his thoughts from disgusting him. Must distract brain. Maybe speaking will work. "Would you believe I never rode one?"
"You haven't?" What sort of rich guy was this? "Well, we'll have to remedy that, then. I'll drag you with me when I find a good place to ride around here."
The kind that rode around in chariots? He had been very goods with those. But he had a sinking feeling the proficiency would not transfer over. "Rode an elephant a few times. Maybe they're similar. But I do know of a good ridin' club near here. A bit pricey, but then again, the networks are throwin' money at me so whatever.
"Whatever works. I haven't bothered to look around. Does Dahlia know how to ride?" She'd never really bothered to ask...
"I." Dante immediately stopped his sentence. Did she know how to ride a horse? She hadn't learned it from him. Did she learn it the other half of the time? After the Fall? He frowned again. He didn't care for this feeling of not knowing something about his precious wife. Honestly, it bothered the hell out of him. "Honestly, it hasn't come up in conversation, I guess."
Mallory smiled. "Then perhaps you should ask her sometime? I could teach both of you if she doesn't."
He nodded. "Without a doubt I will ask her. If she does know, she is gonna be very amused watchin' me try to learn."
"Then it'll make two of us." She said with a small wink and with a grunt of effort, pulled herself out of the chair. The sugar rush was starting to kick in, and she needed to do something other than sit. "I suppose I should let you get back to whatever it is you were doing, or wandering around playing."
"A little of both really." He almost smiled at it as his eyes followed from where she was sitting. Then he offered his hand. Were handshakes appropriate in times like this? Sometimes he didn't know how he was so socially inept. Really. It was bad. One of these days he was going to have to grab Dahlia, lock her in a room somewhere and have her teach him how to act. "This was a good talk and maybe I'll learn to ride a horse so thank you."
She looked at his hand for a moment, but took it. "No problems. It was good to meet you finally, as, well, we live in the same house."
He shook her hand but something was wrong. As soon as her hand touched his, he could feel it. Normally the warmth of someone's hand reached him after the physical sensation by a millisecond, but with her it was reversed. He felt the heat and then the touch. Like her living essence was slightly a skewed from her body. "Yes, it is finally good to meet you. Should do this again some time." Dante tried to make his words not sound distracted but they were. Something was seriously wrong.
The only sign of her noticing it was a small raise of her eyebrow, but she smiled and released his hand to exit the kitchen and return to her little corner of the house, grabbing the empty box to toss it away on her way out.
When she left, he continued to follow her with his eyes. The little ghost Sharpei launched out from beneath the table after her, its little rump shaking along with its tail as it laid chase. "Pooky, stay," he whispered and the ghost dog stopped and looked at him, before returning to rest on his feet. He was too lost in his own thoughts to notice or care. He rarely felt that sensation -- living heat then the touch -- but he had felt it in Miami before.
Summary: Mallory and Dante, two folks who live in the same house, finally meet during separate runs to the kitchen. They verbally prod each other for a while before parting, at which time Dante learns that there's a little bit more to his wife's assistant.