Preparedness

[sirrobinv]

 Who: Damien Wayne and open!
What: Settling in.
Where: Lovecraft Diner
When: July 20th, mid afternoon
Status: Open
Rating: PG/PG-13 because Damien can be a right jerk sometimes

Comments

[never_blink]

The unchildlike child handed Clarice a business card, and a challenge. She couldn't help feeling nervous. Should she be making promises for Bethanne? On the other hand, she really did believe that the woman who'd taken her in four years ago could bake anything. She had far more confidence in Bethanne's skill than her own.

But what if her employer also had never tried the pastry? Being 'old' and 'complex'... Following a recipe was easy, but how would they know whether the taste and texture were right if no one but Damien had any frame of reference?

And then there was Damien. Clarice had known children who were cruel - too many of them - and she didn't think Damien was cruel. Mean, yes, he had been, but... more than that, thoughtless. As if it didn't even occur to him that other people's feelings should matter. In someone who otherwise seemed so intelligent and so adult for his age, that wasn't right. It suggested more about his upbringing to Clarice than he probably realized.

And she thought his arrogance on this point was a cover. He really wanted this hard-to-find treat, and Clarice wanted to find it for him. She didn't even mind that it was rude to demand housewarming gifts.

Blanche Avenue - that was where Nokoru lived, too. She wondered if the bakery would be called upon to cater Damien's housewarming party as well. If he had one. There seemed to be a lot of similarity between the two boys - and a lot that was utterly different, too.

"If you send the recipe to the bakery, we'll do our very best," she promised, pulling out one of Sweet Lady Jane's business cards out and handing it to him in turn. She didn't often get to use those, since everyone in town already knew where the bakery was. "I, um, I don't know that Bethanne will be available to work for you, though. The shop keeps her very busy. She'd be happy to take a weekly order from you, though, I'm sure. If it's... up to snuff, like you said." Except he'd said you. But if anyone was going to make this treat to his satisfaction, it would be Bethanne, like Clarice had said.

[sirrobinv]

Damien took the card from Clarice with a cursory glance, slipping it into his wallet with a nod. For a moment he went back to his milkshake, listening closely as the girl muttered and stammered, becoming increasing aggravated by the quirk. It was like trying to hear to a mouse.

"Ugh, speak up, will you?" Damien growled lowly, almost low enough that she would have to strain to listen herself. "I can understand being cowed by your appearance but does it look like I care? Trust me, you are not the worst I've seen, compared to most you're a super-model." Amazing how he could make even the highest praise sound like an insult.

Speaking normally again, Damien straightened, wondering if the girl was at least partially deaf or just suffering from that crippling low self esteem. Or maybe both.

"I wouldn't bother offering someone who already owned what would appear to be a successful business another job." He said, looking slightly affronted. "You, on the other hand, look like you could use the supplemental income. This is a small town and I'm guessing you're just starting college?" She looked to be around Batgirl's age, at least, and Brown was only a sophomore...

The thought suddenly reminded him that on his visit to city hall several days ago, a rather aged secretary had foisted a mound of paperwork on him, and amongst it was enrollment for the local elementary school. The idea made him ill.

[never_blink]

Clarice started. She knew she spoke softly, but nobody had ever complained before. Besides which, and this was the really sad thing, she'd actually been speaking quite confidently - for Clarice, that is. His irritation was more in danger of cowing her more than encouraging her to be bolder.

But more than just his tone caught her attention. "You're not the worst I've seen," he'd said. And he'd guessed her age, once again looking at her more closely than most people ever did.

"Sorry, she said, pale eyes searching his. "You've... met mutants before." Amazingly, it didn't even sound like a question. Although... given this town, that was probably too much of an assumption to make. "Or - demons? Aliens?"

Once, 'demon' had been nothing more than an insult to her. Then she'd met Mr. Lorne.

It didn't do to make assumptions.

Not that he wasn't making his share. For instance, that she needed a greater income. She was living comfortably on what she made at the bakery - very comfortably, since Lulu wouldn't let her pay rent and considering what she'd grown up with. Then again, Damien probably didn't have the same idea of what a reasonable income was.

And, too, he had a point. The Aternaville community college wasn't terribly expensive compared to universities, but it was a fair chunk of change. Would it be wrong to take on baking jobs outside the bakery? She'd have to talk to Bethanne about it.

All assuming she was even capable of making these fancy treats of his, of course.

"How about... if I just try to make that recipe for you? Then you can see if you even would want me to take that job." She was sure he wouldn't hold back from telling her if he didn't.

[sirrobinv]

Damien couldn't deny that the sensation of seemingly blind eyes boring into his own was a strange one--he could feel their strength but not pinpoint it, like looking at one of 3D puzzle pictures; he had to battle the desire to squint awkwardly.

"Tch." Was the response to the soft apology. 'Don't apologize, just improve.' "Metahumans, aliens, and a demon if you want to take Grandfather's title literally. Not like he didn't earn it." The last part of that sentence was drawled out grudgingly. "It's hard to be different where I come from, especially when everyone else is too."

Reaching for his wallet once more, Damien retrieved several hundred dollar bills and tucked them discretely under Clarice's plate. "An advance on ingredients and for shipping. You'll need it if you want to do it right." He'd already spent several hundred thousand in the last week, acquiring the house, clothes and buying furniture sets that would be delivered soon.

Taking a chance on a pink, small town pastry chef was, Damien decided, as good a way to spend what remained of his pocket money as any.

'Beats wasting it on godawful soup.'