(Untitled)

[15_words]

Jaye could just tell something was off when she woke up that morning. She couldn't tell WHAT, but it was SOMETHING. The animals weren't speaking, which was both a good and a bad sign, so no matter how many sour glares she threw their way, they remained impassive and quiet. Even the wax lion refused to budge. Her right eye felt twitchy from the

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[piemakerprince]

For all that the pie maker found himself in a strange situation on a strange island under strange circustances, he couldn't find it within himself to be all that upset. He had Chuck, and though the kitchen was certainly no Pie Hole, he had his pies.

In fact, today Ned had a simple apple pie made, and was pulling it out of the oven when a familiar face entered as he moved it to a cooling rack.

Now, Ned was never the sort of man to stick around and face confrontation, especially when the last time he saw someone was after they'd squeezed, prodded and yelled at him in anger. But he wasn't the sort of man to just run away, either.

Not with a just-made pie sitting there.

"Hello," he said cautiously, and took off his gloves.

[15_words]

She didn't stop because of him. She stopped because the smell of the pie was so strong and so delicious that her body refused to move any further than the doorway until it'd had a good sniff. And for her stomach to growl, apparently.

"Hello, Guy Who's Not My Brother," she replied dryly, then wasted no more time in heading for the coffee. "That smells really, really good," she remarked. Not sure WHY she did that, but she did it, and she quickly filled her mouth with hot coffee in hopes that it would make her feel more normal.

[piemakerprince]

Ned was still very sorry he wasn't her brother, but that word seemed to just make her more upset and angry, and he didn't want that happening again.

"Hello, Girl Who Thinks I'm Her Brother," he replied, because as far as he remembered, he didn't actually know her name. Just that she was much, much stronger than she looked.

Crossing his arms tightly, the pie maker regarded her attack on the coffee. "You can have some pie when it cools off," he offered.

[15_words]

"I don't think you're my brother," she snapped, ill-tempered. "I did, but I don't anymore."

She took another gulp of coffee, taking a little secret pleasure in the way it burned on the way down. "...Thanks," she muttered, awkwardly.

[piemakerprince]

The more the pie maker thought about it, the more she reminded him of Emerson. Ill-tempered, but with a soft spot for pie. (He had yet to expand this theory, but he was unsure how to bring up knitting or pop-up books in conversation. Or money.)

"It'll take a little while," he said awkwardly. Small talk had never been one of Ned's strengths. "And I don't...I don't think I ever got your name that day. I'm Ned."

[15_words]

"I've got no where else to be," she said, then winced and wrinkled her nose at her own words. He didn't have to know that.

Jaye slid into a seat at a table, holding onto the coffee mug like it was something important. "Jaye," she returned. "Tyler. And you look like Aaron, in case you were curious."

[piemakerprince]

"I wasn't," said Ned. He hadn't been hit with the so called truth bug going around; the pie maker just didn't believe in telling lies when lies weren't actually needed.

(When the lie was, say, not telling your childhood sweetheart that you killed her father, then it could be considered needed more than most.)

But he was not curious about Jaye's brother, and he was not curious about much more of Jaye's life. Curiosity in such matters always led to small talk, which inevitably translated into tell me a little bit about yourself so I can tell you about myself, and then we repeat the process all over again until you feel like shoving a pie into my face and walking away.

Well, close to it.

[15_words]

Jaye frowned. Not that the response put her off all that much. She'd heard worse. But she wasn't used to being on the receiving end of that particular phrase.

"That's my line," she said. "Well, usually," she amended. "So what's the point of asking my name and offering me pie if you're not curious about who you look like? ...Oh dear God, don't tell me this is your way of hitting on me or something because that's just sick."

[piemakerprince]

"What?" Ned whirled around from where he'd begun to clean up the small mess he'd made while baking, a wet paper towel in one hand and a bit of used flour swept off the counter in the other.

The expression on his face may have been horrified, if he weren't the sort of person who saw dead bodies come back to life on a regular basis.

"No," he said, then repeated, for good measure: "No, no, no. I'm not hitting on you, I was being as polite as I needed to be without crossing a line." The sort of line where things got too personal.

It was a very short line, in the pie maker's case.

[15_words]

"A line?" Jaye echoed, her eyebrows arching up. "What, like you're required to be polite to people but not so much that they actually like you? Oh, hey, wait, that makes sense."

Whatever hard time Jaye had been preparing to give Ned was quickly forgotten as she thought about this technique. "I mean, that's what I did because I needed to at work. But doesn't being polite outside of a work environment encourage people to... you know... open up to you... over pie?"

[piemakerprince]

Ned wasn't sure what he'd said was actually supposed to be appreciated, but if Jaye did, then he wasn't about to stop her. In fact, she almost sounded like she understood.

Again, he was reminded of Emerson. Except the private detective didn't actually attempt to be polite with anyone.

"It's the pie," he said with a rueful nod, and headed over to the garbage can to empty his hands. "I have a pie shop, the smell compels me to be nice to people. Customers. You're a customer. Even if you can't really pay, and I made the pie for free."

It was the sort of logic that made perfect sense in Ned's head.

[15_words]

"You have got to change your tactic," Jaye informed him seriously.

"There's no money here. Everyone does things -- seriously -- out of the kindness of their hearts. If you go around making pies and being polite, everyone's going to think of you as that Pie Guy Who Needs A Hug." Jaye's eyes were wide with earnestness. As a fellow Anti-Social Bastard, or so she assumed him to be, Jaye had to offer her advice. ...And then laugh mercilessly if he didn't take it.

But he looked like Aaron. And Jaye didn't like seeing Aaron in pain. Unless Jaye put him there.

[piemakerprince]

"I don't need hugs," Ned said. It was obvious to just about anyone who looked at Ned for more than a few seconds that he wasn't the sort of man who accepted hugs. Or any kind of personal touch.

This sort of talk interested the pie maker, and he made his way over to the table, Jaye having earned his interest.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped as he regarded Jaye. "So you're saying I should just make pies, and not be polite to anyone at all."

[15_words]

"See," she said, waggling a finger at him, "That's just the sort of attitude that's gonna get you hugs around here."

She cradled her mug in her hands and took another sip. "I'm saying you shouldn't make the pies at all. Unless you're making them for yourself and not sharing. But that would be my tactic, and even I know that it's more than a little harsh. But if you really don't want people sharing with you, yeah, impolite is the way to be."

[piemakerprince]

"But I like making pies," said the pie maker. He'd spent his entire life since he was abandoned as a boy making pies and trying to reconnect with a past he never could quite keep a grip on. Not until the girl named Chuck re-entered his life, anyway.

And, despite it all, Ned wasn't the sort to make pies and refuse to share them. He was sure Jaye's idea had some merit, but that meant the freshly baked apple pie sitting on the counter had no place to go.

He brought said pie over to the table, and followed with a small plate, knife and fork for Jaye. "Take however much you want," he said, holding the knife out to her. While the apples weren't in fact dead apples brought back to life by Ned, old habits died hard. He never cut or served the pies he made.

[15_words]

"Then make the pies," she said, taking the offered knife without so much as a blink and cutting herself a slice. "Just be careful with how much love and care you put into it. There's nothing really to do here except... well, talk to one another, I guess."

The idea didn't sound too pleasing to Jaye. Not that she disliked chatting with certain people, but small talk was like trying to stab herself with a spoon. So she took a bite of the pie to get her mind off of it.

"That's really good," she praised, not overenthusiastic, but solid, like she wasn't expecting it to actually be that good. "...Aren't you going to have some?"