Oh my god you two are dating.

River
She doesn't like inviting herself over. For all she knows, Grace has something important to do. Grace could have any number of things that she wanted to do with day, could be in and out, could keep an absurd schedukle and she could be sleeping for all River knows.

So, she calls.
Doesn't send a text message, actually calls and asks if she can come over. Promises lamb of some variety. And something with samosas.

"So I found an Ethiopian cookbook," she starts. The young woman came in the door, needed a hand getting things out of her car to actually get them into the warehouse because she wasn't sure what they had in terms of spices and she spent all of her black jack winnings on groceries and restocking her closet.

When River comes in, she smells like a casino- it has a very distinct sort of smell. A little like desperation and boredom and the slow loss of vitality of everyone within a fifty foot radius of a slot machine. She covered it up with something by Victoria's Secret. (Pink- Ready to Party. It's one of three perfumes she has in her purse and she wears it because she likes it, thank you very much.)  Attire is comfortable. Tights and boots and probably a dress under her coat.

Who knows, she might not be wearing clothes under her coat. Maybe she expected to seduce Grace with her cooking and exotic dancing wiles.

No, realistically it was just a dress that was short enough that her gigantic winter coat hid most of it.


Grace
Kalen's getting ready to go to Hawaii. As much as she is sure he is there for super serious business, what with all the scuba diving for lost treasure and all? His 'work' sounds so much more fun than what she's been up to lately. And he had a vacation -- a proper vacation -- in Chile.

It has all prompted a bit of jealous scheming on Grace's part. And said scheming has brought her plane tickets and a packed bag for tomorrow's trip to Los Angeles.

Not everybody knows just yet. Hell, some of her best friends don't even know what she could possibly find appealing in LA. She's that kind of quiet about it. And, she's fairly certain nobody will miss her for the whole weekend she'll be gone. Some might opt more for a week spent with their latest loved one, but Grace is a pragmatist at heart, and she knows that the universe likes to throw her curveballs. A week might be too long.

There's not much evidence of her looming departure at the Office. She's not in a tizzy of packing and trip-prep. Packing took her all of thirty minutes, because that's the kind of efficiency dressing in all jeans and t-shirts will get you. Instead, there is a lot of evidence of Kalen and Grace going on a crazed spree of pinata-hanging. It's a tradition. It might not be one anybody else holds dear, but it is a tradition that Grace loves for its irreverence and randomness more than anything. That, and candy.

Subsisting on all candy though? Not cool. That's why when River calls, says she wants to make Ethiopian food, Grace is all for this. If River ever wanted to seduce her with cooking and exotic dancing wiles, the cooking would be far more successful.

"Holy shit, River, did you buy every ingredient in the cookbook or something?" Grace asks, with a surprised smile as she lugs a grocery bag out of the car to help.

River
"I bought some things pre-made," she says, sounds absolutely woeful when she says this, too, like buying something that was pre-made instead of buckling down and actually doing it yourself was a freaking tragedy.

River can't stand most store-bought bread. To say that something is the greatest thing since sliced bread is to tell River Vasquez that, very obviously, you do not like what is going on but you are enduring its mediocrity because of convenience. She doesn't chase the mother loaf like some people do, but she does have opinions on baked goods. She doesn't eat a lot of junk food. Is one of those people that, disgustingly, can eat one Pringle and call it good.

Nobody likes those people, River.

"I didn't know what you had? So I assumed nothing and now we have a good starting point."

She smiles, chipper, and traipses off to the kitchen, two bags of groceries in hand. She stops, realizes her back door is open. Scampers back and plants a foot on the back driver's side door. Pushes and the door shuts with a thud. Then, it's off to the inside.

"... wow, pinatas." Like their presence actually does surprise her.

Grace
Yes, River. Pinatas. There's one over in a corner that looks like a treasure chest. Some more down the hall in the shape of stars with streamers. There is also one in the shape of a vampire bat, because fake vampires are entirely too fun to hit with sticks, and nobody really cares about holidays getting their wires crossed here.

There is also one which Grace has already busted open with much glee, and probably a couple of very concerned cats.

"Pinatas! Of course! It's Christmas. I mean, what were we going to do? Hang stockings?" she says, laughs a fake laugh. "But seriously though, you have a stocking at the Chantry, because yes -- that too."

Up, up the stairs, and here, there is a smiling yellow T-Rex and a cupcake hanging from the ceiling. This makes sense, because you see, cupcakes are the favorite food of carnivorous dinosaurs.

Somehow, they make it all the way to the kitchen with all that stuff, and Grace unloads her burden on a countertop, starts rummaging around inside wondering how it's all going to fit together.

"You're going to have to trust me when I tell you I can burn water? So that's about my cooking skill level. If you want anything chopped, I can help?"

On a table in the kitchen sits a vase. The vase is a nice heavy crystal glass thing, and it has water in it, for all that the flowers don't really need it. They may as well be made of plastic, but they aren't. And they hum with a certain someone's steadily unraveling windstorm.

River
It's up the stairs, though she slows- because there were pinatas. There was a vampire, yes, and a treasure chest and stars and-

wait.

She stops and looks at the vampire for a minute, cocks her head to the side and looks as though she can't... quite... put two and two together. Like there is something that she is clearly missing in American culture and this is something that has translated out to pinatas at Christmas. With bats.

Wait.

No?

River was born int he United States. Sure, her parents didn't pick up some of the traditional American things, but she kind of figured that she had Christmas right and then there is this moment of dawn that comes across her face when she realizes that she wasn't actually missing a cultural norm, she was just coming across someone who celebrated the changing of the seasons with a breakable candy container.

The vase gets a second look, though.

"Who brought the flowers?"

Doesn't need to ask. She knows who brought the flowers.

Grace
[Manipulation + subterfuge = trying hard not to blush and otherwise act weird over that 'who brought the flowers']



Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

River
[Per+empathy: I get people!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

River
again!

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )

Grace
[Tie break!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )

Grace
Who brought the flowers? Oh, well, the resonance will probably tip River off, right? They knew each other pretty well, student and teacher and all. And besides, there's nothing to be ashamed of.

"Oh. Mike did. After the whole..." Grace waves her arms in the air, as if they will express the concept of 'crazy mixed-up-ness' better than her words would. "Thing with The Artist."

Nope, not going to break out with bright red cheeks over the memory. Well, when he first gave her those blue hyacinths, she was red in the face for another reason entirely.

"They were apology flowers. He, uh, wanted to say he was sorry for not letting me know what happened."

There is a bag of lentils in her hand, she realizes. Mmm yes. Lentils. Let's focus on putting those in a cupboard and not on anything else.

River
"Oh," she says, like this answers all of her questions and doesn't raise a whole bunch of new ones.

Cookbook gets pulled out and she turns to a page that she doesn't even have to look up in the index. Like this is all alchemy and she's already discovered the secret of eternal life so why not fuck around with creating gold? Lamb gets pulled out and she awkwardly looks around for a mixing bowl-

"Bowl?" she is holding the package of meat, that looks like it came from a butcher and it's Colorado so there is a good chance this lamb has a name and ate dandelions its entire short life. In truth, River kind of felt bad about eating meat but enjoyed the convenience of it (along with not being able to explain to her restaurant-owning parents that she was a vegetarian.)

"I can understand that," she says offhand, looking back at the flowers again, "he's usually pretty good about communication but I understand the reasoning behind not telling you. Or I could understand what my reasoning would be."

A beat.

"I really, genuinely don't mean that in a bad way."

River has no idea that disclosing the incorrect amount of information to someone she cared bout has gotten her killed before.

"He got the right flower for apologizing, though."

Grace
Oh, hey -- getting a bowl. Another thing to do. Grace quickly pulls open one of the lower cabinets and retrieves a bowl, and frowns at it. This is a small eating bowl. No, that's probably not what River meant. In another cabinet, she finds a large glass one. It probably goes with one of the mixers. But Grace hands it over anyway.

River says she can understand Mike's reasoning, and Grace squints. Really, Mike? You've infected your students with this tripe too?

"Really? There wasn't a whole lot of reason to it," she says, tries to remember that she's decided to be forgiving. There's a rant there, which she isn't going to start just yet. Something about her having prepared to kill him because of that lack of information -- that she expected a rather one-sided siege.

But no. She didn't get besieged. Well, not physically anyway. Emotionally, maybe. Her eyes catch the hyacinths and hang on them for a few seconds.

"I know why he did it. He wanted to keep me safe," she says. "Didn't think about keeping his own damn self safe from me when I found out, though." She smiles an awkward half-smile and pounds a fist into her hand.

River
"Everyone shall fear the wrath of Grace-erm-whateveryourlastnameis!" lamb gets hoisted in the air for a second, as though she was cheering on some victory with paper-wrapped meat. River started to peel the tape back and ends up dumping the meat into the bowl.

She heads off to go wash her hands before getting herself into too terribly much trouble with the meat and the seasoning. "Can you survive chipping an onion? I've got to make clarified butter. Or you can mince garlic. Your choice."

Because, clearly, butter wasn't clear enough. It had to be clarified.

"So, I'm going to guess you guys are friends? Ish? Giving people flowers to apologize to someone is very nineteenth century."

Or something people do in romantic comedies when they've messed up. River has seen a couple Meg Ryan movies, she knows how that could work.

Grace
"I might survive, but there may be tears," Grace says, with a fake sorrowful face. That just brings more things for her to go find -- like a cutting board and a knife. Truth be told, even though she's lived here for over a year now, she does not know where the cutting board is. With the keen, sharp edges to her resonance, one might thing she goes on a chopping spree every now and then, but really? The only hacking she does on a regular basis, she uses a computer for.

River asks if she and Mike are friends. Hmm. Yes, one could say that. But Grace knows that's not really what she meant. "Uhh, yeah. Friends. A little more than that, really. Or... a lot more, actually."

This time, she doesn't bother to hide the flustered reaction. The good news? She's busy with her back turned to the kitchen, looking for an elusive cutting board, so she's spared at least some of the shame. Eventually, in a drawer near the sink, she finds her target -- a very lightly used plastic board with a handle. But then, she actually has to turn around and grab an onion...

Oh, River. If ever there was someone hyper-focused on onions and cutting them before the embarrassment makes them do something ridiculous, it is Grace. She's clearly not used to talking about 'mushy stuff'.

River
River has her hands full of lamb meat when she turns around and givves Grace the flattest of looks that one can give a female friend. Grace may not be used to this, but River Vasquez has been extorting details of sordid personal affairs with girlfriends and coworkers for years.

"Mmmmn-hmmn?"

Grace
Onion, yes. Got one of those. And a board. And so, she reaches for a knife, which isn't too hard to find. The sharp ones are stuck in a wood block by the stove. The sight of Grace yanking a knife out and turning to River in order to laugh awkwardly? It seems more threatening than it has any right to.

"Mmm. Yes."

And, you know, maybe, since he was happy to have her over for a weekend, he still feels the same way?

She takes her onion (balanced precariously upon the cutting board) and knife over to the kitchen table, and sits, regarding the vegetable for a bit, before deciding to cut it in half such that it should make rings.

"He's um... Very understanding," she says. And cuts into the onion, wincing at the juice. There may be tears, she said...

River
(get the Hell out, me-with-a-last-name)

River
Grace turns around and has a knife and laughs awkwardly and River offers a disarming smile. Literally disarming, it is a smile that says please don't stab me. Not that it's ever stopped someone from stabbing her who really wanted to stab her, but that is a rare occurence in this lifetime.

"You realize that you're just naming personality traits and not actually clarifying the nature of your relationship," she says this, but can't keep the grin off of her face.

Luckily, Grace has her back turned and River has time to regroup and not fall into a ball of utter panic about this. Okay, so... Mike is just bringing Grace flowers as an apology and they're friends and Grace said they're a lot more and-

"Oh my god you two are dating."

Grace
"Yes, I... uh... That's not really a big deal right? I mean, people... date." Not her, but people, surely. It's not that rare of an event... Oh, who is she kidding? Neither of them are known for being the dating type. The onion crunches under her knife once more.

It's a big deal to Grace, obviously. She's tried doing the normal human thing before, back when being a normal human still held some importance. Mike is different. And not just because he can change the fabric of the universe.

Also obvious is how little Grace knows about chopping onions. She's got a couple slices, but the knife keeps getting stuck. So, she opts to forgo rings and slice the thing in quarters. It gives her something to think about other than the nature of this conversation. River, she isn't really paying any attention to your panic.

River
"It's as big of a deal as you are willing to make it," she said told Grace.

And there is the awkward moment. While she's preparing sauces and getting out saucepans and getting ready to do what can only be considered torture to butter, she has to think about this. She pauses, seems content to contemplate for a second. River doesn't think quickly. No, when it comes to thinking on her feet, River Vasquez is most assuredly average.

As such, it means that when she thinks about something, she actually takes her time to stop and think about it and consider the entire thing before deciding that she has an opinion on something. She isn't a terribly loud creature, doesn't go throwing her opinion around willy-nilly.

"In my experience, I wouldn't downplay it and I wouldn't build it up to being bigger than it is, just... decide how big you want it to be and own it."

Grace
"When did you get to be so full of wisdom, eh?" Grace says, with one eye held shut against the fresh onion spritz. Well, honestly, it's not that difficult to have more words of wisdom about relationships than Grace Evans. Pretty low bar, there. "I don't know how big a deal I want to make it. Neither of us did, when it... became a deal."

"I'm going out to see him this weekend," she adds, like she's getting that one out of the way, off of her chest.

The smell of meat has drawn some attention. Pomegranate pokes her head into the doorframe and yowls out a question. Why is that food not in the food bowl? That is where food belongs. In the bowl. Yowl.

River has seen the library cats in action before, likely.

River
"I've got lifetimes of bad relationship advice to call on at a whim," she says, though given River's tradition she could be completely literal in that regard. River might very well have lifetimes worth of information she's pulling from. Who knows if River actually dates people or does these sorts of things or does anything more than maybe watch a movie with someone.

She's nervous. She's got her stomach in knots and as uncomfortable as it is... seeing someone else being bashful and happy makes her want to be happy for them. If this is, in fact, what she is seeing.

"Are you excited to go to Cali?"

Grace
Another slice of onion, and she's almost got it down to manageable chopping size. The pieces aren't uniform. At all. But hopefully, that doesn't really matter. Pomegranate gets glared at, but the cat doesn't seem to mind. She just rubs up against River's leg in another plea for whatever smells so wonderful.

River asks if she's excited to go, and there's a smile to go with her squinted, red-rimmed eyes. "Yeah. We were, you know, working a lot when he was here. It would be nice to actually go on a date-date with the guy I'm... dating," she says, and that color in her cheeks probably isn't onion.

They might just go on a date. Or, they might just spend the whole time too wrapped up in each other to go out. Or, as it actually turns out, they could spend it working. Again. Because the universe just will not give Grace a break.

River
"It's kind of the nature of the job, you're never not working- no kitty," she tells Pomegranate, even gives the cat a little sympathetic look "-I don't know if you're on a raw diet and it would make you sick."

A comedic frown, a sigh of woe, "lo siento, kitty kitty."

Grace says that she is excited to go, smiles and has her cheeks all pink and River is off to spending time on what she's got on the stove, which... actually does require her attention. A pound of butter is only going to render a cup of clarified butter. This is an ordeal, to say the least.

"What was I saying?" something about working, River, "-oh, right... yeah. You're never not working."

Grace
"True. Nature of the world, I guess. Also, do not listen to Pomegranate. She is not actually starving, as much as she says she totally is."

Pomegranate knows when she's being talked about, and she can guess that the communication is not in her favor, because nobody is fawning over her and giving her her due as the goddess she truly is. Her due is usually food-based. She takes those kinds of sacrifices. Not burnt offerings, because bleh, carbon... She sits down at one of the kitchen table chairs (See? I am a person too) and sulks.

"Hopefully, we can work on something that isn't... quite so awful. I know that was hard for you. For all of us, really, but... You did good."

River
"It's..."

She lingers on that, has a moment of silence when she tries to determine, again, what it is that she is going to say and how she is going to say it. The room is starting to actually smell like something that could resemble the beginnings of food, and that is a feat unto itself. She turns down the heat on the range and goes to mince garlic cloves. Which, alas, requires another cutting board. And thus, investigation continues.

"It's really hard to... not be okay. The tendency is to want to lie about it and pretend that you're fine, but in doing so it makes a person deny a fundamental part of their experience. Can't really ignore suffering," she says.

"I talked to Sam about it. I'm making peace with the fact that I don't have to be okay all the time."

Grace
"No. You don't," Grace says, and glances down at the onions to make sure she isn't actually making onion paste with all that chopping. "I know it's not really the same? But I know what it's like going around, trying and failing to be normal after trauma.

"And then, other people can make it worse, because they're all like 'You should be okay, so I'll feel comfortable'," she says, and rolls her eyes hard. "If anybody does that to you, don't listen. But, I don't think you will," she says, smiling.

"It doesn't have to be all better. I think I'm done with the onions. Eh?"

River
She takes a second, peers over at the onions and smiles a bright and chipper smile. It's genuine, though- that smile. She has regarded the onions and deigned that, yes, they are acceptable.

"You did good, I'm not going to believe you when you say you'll burn water now," River tells Grace, "you  can be taught, you've got the bone structure of a natural born onion chopping genius."