offthebeatenpath (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
offthebeatenpath) wrote2015-09-23 04:17 pm
offthebeatenpath) wrote2015-09-23 04:17 pm
dinner at john and bobby's
Em had been surprised when John first mentioned the possibility of her coming to dinner sometime, and when he called to actually invite her she was even less sure how she felt. But Jag had gone back to the circus for awhile - after assuring Jake, Ollie, and Em he'd be back sometime, who knew when - and that made it easier for her to say yes.
A bottle of wine would've been an obvious host gift, but she didn't know this John and Bobby well enough to know if they drank wine at all, or if they did, what they preferred. So she took a chance that neither of them were vegan... or diabetic, made up a batch of bourbon marshmallows and homemade graham crackers, and boxed them up with some chocolate bars for a s'mores kit. It was either that or some flambé-able ice cream topping, but those did better made immediately before lighting and serving, so she went with the s'mores.
As she headed up the walk, Em worked her way through the first few Askani meditation patterns to settle her nerves and put her feelings in some kind of order. It seemed to help, some, and after a slow breath, she pushed her hair behind her shoulders and out of her face, then rang the bell.
A bottle of wine would've been an obvious host gift, but she didn't know this John and Bobby well enough to know if they drank wine at all, or if they did, what they preferred. So she took a chance that neither of them were vegan... or diabetic, made up a batch of bourbon marshmallows and homemade graham crackers, and boxed them up with some chocolate bars for a s'mores kit. It was either that or some flambé-able ice cream topping, but those did better made immediately before lighting and serving, so she went with the s'mores.
As she headed up the walk, Em worked her way through the first few Askani meditation patterns to settle her nerves and put her feelings in some kind of order. It seemed to help, some, and after a slow breath, she pushed her hair behind her shoulders and out of her face, then rang the bell.
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"How do your powers work exactly?" He wondered, changing the subject with a raise of his eyebrow: "Like - it's related to tarot, right? Can you use other symbols, too, or just one deck...?" Sure, there was genuinely friendly curiosity there - and a little probing for weaknesses, too.
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Gaze flicking across to the sliding door, John frowned briefly. It shouldn't take too long to get the bacon out and rummage around for a beer: Bobby was probably lurking and deliberately avoiding the conversation, which, fine, John had explicitly given him a reason to stay out for longer by asking for a beer, but the trouble was John wasn't entirely sure what the boundaries were in terms of the 'grown-up conversations' his boyfriend wanted to ardently to not be a part of. Maybe asking Em about her powers was enough to make Bobby stay away, in a certain context.
"Thanks," John nodded: he'd never really met any precogs before so it was beyond interesting, interested in both how things worked and what she could do. "So....it's just a feeling, right? Even with the image? I mean, the stereotypical image of the tarot reader is the cryptic read, it's never enough information to be entirely clear." He spoke like an expert in the tales, mostly because he was part-way to being one. "Which is very useful, I didn't mean to disregard that."
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"The cards are vague and mysterious?" she quoted slyly. It was about the only thing she remembered about the Simpsons.
Then, without the sharpness some people would use, "The stereotypical tarot reader is adept at cold reading - beginning with the traditional tarot interpretations and vague or universal messages and developing from there based on the querent's microexpressions and other input. And I've known fortune tellers who are incredibly skilled at it. I'm a mutant." Who'd also been taught cold reading, and she wasn't sure how she felt about what she could see from John.
"I wonder if Bobby's fallen into the freezer," she said, thinking maybe it was time to change topics, and he had been gone longer than needed to get bacon and a beer.
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"Thanks."
Taking a breath, he forced a tired grin for Em, and went back to tending the BBQ. "This should be done soon." Nodding to Bobby, he continued: "Em was just explaining what she could do. It does sound pretty amazing," he acknowledged, realising he probably hadn't been properly effusive. He wasn't one for praise much, these days.
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Pausing, he checked the meat by pressing on it with the tongs: it was around medium-rare, which was how he liked it. "Maybe Frosty here would like to get our fortunes told," he said, leaving the decision up to Bobby, and reached for a dish to start piling the meat in, and then a separate one for the grilled vegetables. "I'd say yes, but I can't actually decide things for the both of us, can I sweetheart?" He passed one of the dishes to Bobby, a well-oiled cooking routine.
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"No, you can't," Bobby replied with a pleasant smile. He looked over at Em and shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe we should just focus on dinner, since it's ready." Because he hadn't heard her offer a reading, and he wasn't going to assume she was even willing. And if she was, he wasn't so sure he wanted to know what she would see.
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"Bobby here has kindly set the table for Chez Allerdrake," and there was a carafe of tap water on the table, and a bottle of wine in the refrigerator just in case. Shaking his head, he stepped through the door himself, to place his dish on a trivet on the table. "I really never thought I'd be one of those people," he muttered. Cutesy names were not really his thing. "But Bobby has brought out the 'annoyingly cutesy tool' side of me." He gestured at the spread on the table: not just what he'd been grilling, but a fresh garden salad, some bread rolls and butter just in case, and mustards and ketchup and sauces of all kinds.
"Help yourself, Em." John was busy pouring out glasses of water for each of them, and giving Bobby a quick peck on the cheek as he came inside.
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No. She could. It wasn't the first time this Bobby had done that for her, and even the Bobby she'd known might do it playfully with someone. Probably not Em, but maybe Sabine, who let him get away with a lot of the traditional or chivalric white boy stuff Dani would've punched him for trying. So not as strange as the things John was saying.
She grinned as she took her seat. "Shakespeare made puns," she said, using one of her world's Bobby's favorite arguments.
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"And you're right, Em: there are some things about Frosty here that will never change, thank God." That included the puns. Gesturing to the food on the table, he shook his head, keen to encourage some appreciation of his culinary talents. "But c'mon, eat already."
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