(no subject)
Who: Kilroy Benson (MAD HATTER) and Delilah Rousseau (LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD)
Where: Kilroy's house
When: Backdated to a week before the wedding
Summary: Kilroy calls Delilah for some soup, etc.
Rating: PG
Kilroy: The house was clean. Cleaner than it had ever been. Everything was completely dust free, all his hats were placed perfectly in their places. All the dishes washed. It was almost as if he thought that if he kept the house clean she'd come back. Or if she just came to get her things, she'd see how well he took care of the place and reconsider.
It was just too bad he didn't take care of himself. He hadn't been able to really sleep or eat. Just shave and change clothes. Tea wasn't even that appetizing at this point. It was really quite pathetic. Like he was a balloon someone pulled the air out of. He could have asked anyone to bring him things for his cold, but Delilah seemed to always be the best suited for such things. And, simply put, she always had a knack for cheering him up. Which is what he needed.
When there was a knock on the door he put on his slippers and walked down the old wooden steps in PJ pants and an Adam Ant shirt (a get up very, very, very few got to see) and opened the door with a smile, then a covered cough. "I'd give you a hug or something, but it's better if you keep your distance. I don't want to get you sick."
Delilah: Delilah knew it was very trendy for teenagers to be sad and jaded these days, to despair at the state of the world and not have it in their little hearts to hope for the future. But fuck that, she had a reason to be emo, or at least thought she did, so she was going to do it even if it meant she wasn't a unique and beautiful snowflake after all. She was going to be depressed by the state of humanity and feel the hole where the hope of romance and even just happiness had been, and nobody was going to stop her.
Speaking of things nobody was going to stop her from doing - she looks a little disheveled, herself, when Kilroy opens the door, though she did manage to get appropriately dressed for the outside world, even if brushing her hair and matching her socks was a bit much to ask. And though she's no contest for Kilroy, she doesn't seem particularly fresh-faced, either, her eyes a little red, the skin under them a little dark. She holds up the white paper drugstore bag, and gives it a little shake, by way of greeting. That, and a smile, however slight. "It's cool. I'm wearing my invisible hazmat suit, aka the Immune System of Youth. But you've gotta take a shower before you think about hugs." She squints slightly. "And also eat something. Or drink a nice chicken broth. You can't take these super awesome meds without something in your stomach anyway, so c'mon, kitchen ahoy."
Kilroy: He was glad to see that she wasn't well groomed or fresh faced. It meant they could wallow together in emo. "I took a shower." Kilroy looked down at his shirt like a kid who was checking for dirt and then followed her into the kitchen. "I'm not really that hungry. Really. Or thirsty." He wagged his finger, even though her back was facing him at that point. "Definitely not thirsty." The more Kilroy rambled the more it was obvious he needed all of those things he said he didn't. Especially the thirsty part.
His kitchen was covered with teacups. Covered. From one end to the other there had to be thousands of teacups. They were all perfectly sorted, like any good collector would. The best teacups put up high on a shelf. The everyday ones hanging right above the counter. It was a wonder that he had room for anything else besides teacups. But, he did. Reaching under the counter he pulled out a metal pot and then took down a blue kettle from one of the hooks above the stove. "You're going to have to eat with me. Or I'm not doing it." Kilroy gave her a warning look like he meant it. And he did.
Delilah: "Hey, you want to be legally doped out on cold meds or not? You've got to put something in your stomach." Delilah wipes her feet at the door and follows Kilroy in, and to the kitchen. She has to stop in the door a moment to survey the teacup extravaganza - but all things said it's not really surprising. Just something she's never seen before, so she has to take it in. But then it's back to business, and she puts the drugstore bag on the nearest table, and shrugging off her own backpack, sets it on the floor, out of the way.
"Uh, like I came all this way not to mooch your food?" To that warning look, Delilah replies with a typical teenager 'duh' sort of expression. "Yeah right. Come on, I'll make you something healthy - but also digestible. I've been practicing. What've you got in the fridge?" She half-lifts both her hands, and sort of wiggles her fingers, as if only a moment away from seizing the utensils and foodstuffs for her own nefarious purposes. But also she's a kid and she's wiggling her fingers so it's just sort of ridiculous, and intentionally so.
Kilroy: He watched her reaction to the room with a sort of satisfaction. No, it's never out of surprise. Just wonder. That was the point, after all. It was like the Chinese lanterns that swung low over the tea party table in his tale. They were their to distract the eye from who was there. At least, for a moment. "I'm allowed to be a little frightened right? Because, it sounds like you just snuck into a culinary class at the community center...." Kilroy trailed off with a small smile when she asked what was in the fridge.
"Uhm. Some ca-carrots. Chicken." Kilroy furrowed his brow. He tried to think about what else could be in there, but right now all he could imagine were those carrots.
Delilah: Truly it is a sad world when carrots remind one of the lost love of one's life. Or any basic food item, really, or household object, or - there's a flicker of another expression across Delilah's face, and for that moment she seems so much more tired than any seventeen-year-old has the right to be. But it goes, and she moves on, quickly. "You're allowed to be a lot frightened. Internet. But I haven't made myself sick yet! Well I was a little at first but I think that was MSG withdrawal. The Anser Abode was big on takeout." Her hands lowered now, she punctuates with a nod.
"Have a seat. I'll see what I can do." Holding out her hand for the pot, she takes it before beginning an unceremoneous examination of the kitchen's contents. Between the fridge and the pantry she's satisfied, not that it really took a lot of doing - she comes back to the counter and stovetop with the chicken, a few cans of vegetable broth, and a box of dry angel hair pasta. No carrots. She'll throw those away if Kilroy goes to lie down or something. Rolling up her sleeves, she washes her hands and sets to work.
"You've been sleeping, right? Normal people hours?"
Kilroy: "Defffiiinnne, normal people." Kilroy took a seat on one of his wooden chairs and watched her move around the kitchen. "I- when my cat is around I can sleep. But you know she only comes around when there's people food and there hasn't been a lot of that lately." He looked to the door expectingly. As if Kettle was to show up at any moment. And, after a few seconds of waiting, she did.
If May wasn't the love of Kilroy's life, Kettle was. She was the largest, fluffiest black cat New York had to offer and she acted like she owned the world, no, the universe. And, if she never left Kilroy's home, she could probably keep on believing that. "There she is. God damn it I usually have the imperial march play when she comes in. Next time, next time I promise." Kettle ignored Kilroy's ramblings and went right up to Delilah, circled her feet and promptly gave a very loud meow for food.
Delilah: "Seven consecutive hours, usually beginning when the sun is down and ending when it's already come up." There's some chicken-cutting, some water-and-broth boiling, and other busywork. When there's nothing left to do but wait for the water to boil, Delilah half-turns to look back at Kilroy. "You should sleep with some crackers on your nightstand, then." And lo, there comes the cat in question. She looks down at her with a bit of an eyebrow quirk. Delilah is allergic to cat spit - but that doesn't tend to be a problem, with limited exposure. "Sorry kitty, nothing safely salmonella free yet. I'll give you some chicken once it's cooked." The water is boiling. She turns back to the stove to dump the pasta in.
"Haha, for real? That's pretty awesome. She looks like the sort of cat who could pull it off." Once the pasta is back to a boil, she tosses in the cut-up chicken, then covers the whole thing and turns the heat down. Then, because there was some raw meat cutting involved, she washes her hands. "But back on track with normal people sleeping - seriously, you'll get better faster. And naps are totally allowed unless they stop you from doing the seven consecutive hours thing. I'm not gonna be your mom, Kilroy, but - ...actually I have no convincing follow-up to that, what with the soup, and me telling you what to do so you feel better. But you are on your fucking own with the laundry."
Kilroy: He looked up at her as if he needed a mom. Just for that day, for a couple hours, he needed someone to be the grownup besides him. But, he was nearly forty and the look vanished just as soon as it appeared. All men wanted nothing more than to be babied. Even if they fought against it. Even if they insisted it wasn't true. They did. They needed it. "It's alright. I did my laundry. I cleaned- everything. I just forgot how to eat and sleep alone, that's all." Kilroy smiled, really smiled and then put his hands down as Kettle walked by, scooping her up in his arms. She gave a defiant meow but eventually settled and purred.
"If naps are allowed then I'll start with those. Maybe a nap, then a couple episodes of Family Guy then another nap. Maybe I'll trick myself into getting some actual sleep." He turned his head and coughed so that no one would catch wind of it and then gave a miserable look to the floor. "I need to get better by next week. That's my mission."
Delilah: "Well, as long as everything hasn't-" Who's she kidding? Of course everything's fallen apart. He was going to marry the woman. "As long as it's just those two. Total small fries. You'll get back on track no prob." With an eye on the pot, she watches Kettle and Kilroy for a moment, and cat spit or no is glad he isn't alone. Because if Wolf is any indication, animals most certainly do count as company. It's just a matter of making sure there isn't some sort of explosion of the cat population in the house, leading Kilroy down the dangerous path most stereotypically followed by old women. Crazy cat guy doesn't have the same ring to it, either.
"Good. Excellent. Two thumbs up." She makes the aformentioned hand motion. "I am all about missions so you just tell me what you need. They wouldn't let me buy Sudafed in bulk, so like if you run out, or-" Here again there's that break, and the fleeting glimpse of her selfishly, utterly destroyed heart. There's some empathy there, too, there has to be or she wouldn't be there. But then she finds her words again. "-seriously. Anything you need."
Kilroy: He was lost in thought for a moment, just a moment, but the last thing she said captured his attention. May and Kilroy just didn't let each other down, apparently. "Yeah?" Kilroy asked and tried to keep smiling, but failed a little miserably. "Thank you." He said clearly. It was the most crystal clear thing he said all day, and probably the clearest thing she had ever heard him say in person. "It's going to be okay, though. It's going to be okay."
It wasn't clear what Kilroy was talking about. Maybe his cold. Maybe his relationship with May. Maybe life in general. But, he seemed somewhat sure about himself. At least, he had to pretend to be. He waved his hand dismissively. "Let's not talk about my future needs. Let's talk tea." The Hatter grinned. "Tell me my dear. What are your two favorite flavors? And don't be a smart ass about it. They have to be flavors that might go together and could be feasibly be found in tea. Don't give me a look. I know this sounds stupid, but god damn it I need you to play along."
Delilah: Delilah remains profoundly skeptical. But she also remains completely unwilling to play therapist, to "talk about feelings" when one sad face from Kilroy could be all it takes to make her cry. Cry. In front of another person. Unacceptable. Not going to happen. So she nods, and says, "Right, tea."
There's another peek at the simmering soup, and she takes the lid off long enough to stir things about with a spoon and see how they're doing. 'Done' is the verdict, it seems, because she turns off the burner, and sets the lid to the side. "Um - so confession. I don't... actually drink tea. Or I haven't. Please don't hurt me, I'm young and misguided and it's not my fault!" She does not give Kilroy a look in the least, busy excusing her sorry lack of a tea education. "But... I don't know, I know there's orange tea, is there chocolate tea?" Delilah holds up her hands somewhat defensively, just in case.
Kilroy: "Oh, I know you don't drink tea. Here's a confession, I didn't drink tea when I was your age either. Then, probably around the time I was eighteen, I started doing it to be different. Or so I thought anyway." He gives her a look of true understanding. Like he had been there, done that. Plus, he reasoned, it was lunacy to expect even the Hatter to come out of an American home (WASP as they might be) drinking tea without some crazed reason behind it.
"My dear. I have orange-chocolate tea. Truly. And it doesn't suck." Kettle started to wiggle in his arms so he let her down. "But, its more of a dessert tea, so we'll have it after." Kilroy seemed dead set on the idea. He hadn't actually had any tea since the debacle with May and really it was just a sad thing to drink tea alone. Whether Delilah liked it or not, he was going to have tea with her. It at least made him feel better. Tea was like the Hatter's true drug. He was never without it if he could help it. He got to his feet and took out two porcelain bowls and then two spoons and placed them on the little kitchen table before he sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. He was still pretty weak, but the smell of food was enough to energize him just a little bit.
Delilah: "My age?" Delilah repeats, with a faint hint of mock incredulity in her voice. "I'm almost eighteen." Which is true - even if Anser, forgetting that children have birthdays, believes she's still fourteen. But she's glad she hasn't been thrown from the house and barred from ever returning for her lack of tea knowledge, so she won't push the point. Eyeing the pot on the stove, then the bowsl, she decides to take the less dangerous of two paths, and takes the bowls to the stovetop. Ladeling Kilroy's first, she picks out as many tasteless boiled chicken bites as she can from the pot, along with an average amount of noodles and broth. Then hers, the level lower - given the lack of seasoning and the fact that everything is boiled, this is not exactly a tasty soup, though it doesn't tend to matter when one's sick - and she returns to the table with both bowls. Kilroy's is slid across to him.
"It does exist! How do they, like... put the chocolate flavor in? Because I'm assuming for the orange there's some orange bits in the teabag, and then the flavor gets into the water, but. I don't know man, I'm failing chemistry anyway. And what's the deal with non-dessert teas? I mean the normal flavors, like whatever Picard is always ordering - Earl Grey? - and that stuff. Is there some special tea plant all that stuff comes from, or is it from totally everyday plants you see all the time, only people cut it and dried it up and stuck it in hot water?" There is a pause, and as an afterthought, she adds, pointing to Kilroy's bowl, "Eat." Just in case.
Kilroy: He opened his mouth to answer her questions, but when she ordered him to eat he did as he was told. Warily taking a test taste, he considered it and then nodded in approval. "I don't know if it's just my shot taste buds or what, but this isn't bad." Kilroy waved her spoon at her, punctuating his words. "Not. Bad. At. All." He went back to eating and then after a moment he returned the conversation back to tea.
"Okay okay. So, here's the thing about chocolate. Not as magical as you think. It actually comes from a tree, like in nut form I think? So they just crush it up and mix it with a little sweetener and bing, bong, bow you have chocolate tea. Also, there's something to be said about putting tea into boiling water. Earl Grey, which is an acquired taste, doesn't taste right unless you put it in boiling water. Some chemistry thing I'm not sure about, but I know it's for real..." he trailed off thoughtfully, tapping his spoon on his lips. "And yes, classically there has to be a certain plant in it to officially make it tea. A tea plant. If you will. Though sometimes people put weird things like flowers in it. Like rosehips or hibiscus."
Delilah: "Shot taste buds," she reassures him. "It pretty much tastes like nothing. Not even chicken. So your tongue is like 'hey, I don't have to do anything!' and calls it a day." Still, she smiles a little, and sits down across from him with her own bowl. She promised, so she'll eat. She manages a few uneventful spoonfuls while he explains. "Don't you always make tea with boiling water? Or no?" She purses her lips a bit at the mention of just throwing any old plant in tea. "Do those actually taste like anything? Except... herby? And wait, so it's just one plant, and then whatever else you toss in with it makes the different flavors?" What about green tea? What about - but she holds back the long list of questions that by and large serve only to demonstrate what uncharted territory this is for her. Now if they'd just make tea simple - but it's a little late for that.
Kilroy: "Well sometimes you don't have to boil the water. Like when you make ice tea you leave a pitcher of it in the sun and it cooks itself slowly. That works too. I'm not sure why, but it does." Even though she was picking at the soup he was nearly downing it. His body glad for the nourishment he had deprived it of. "It tastes mostly herby. Like if you ever have straight green tea? With no sweetener? Just the green tea? It's like you're biting into a bitter plant. Delicious. But, an acquired taste to be sure." He paused again, thoughtfully and then continued.
"But, never drink tea that has anything in the ingredients that sounds artificial. The true magic of it is that tea is something where a bunch of random things are gathered together, cooked in a little bag and served as a beverage. And most teas have some sort of psychological effect."
Delilah: "You want some more?" Delilah asks, noting the rapidly depleting level of Kilroy's bowl. She waits for the request before actually sweeping off with it for a refill, however - being a friend performing vaguely motherly duties is one thing, being overbearing and coddling is another. "Is that what bitters are? The stuff you mix with drinks? Like the undistilled liquid form?" The repeated question intonation would suggest she has no idea what she's talking about, but since bitters are bitter and herby, and tea is like biting into a bitter plant, all her evidence on hand suggests their could be a relation! And, well, this is Kilroy. She can count on him not to judge.
"'Acquired taste' is one way to put it. Why do people acquire tastes, anywa-" The pure hypothetical trails off, and for the umpteenth time she gives the man a look. A little skeptical, but not so much that she doesn't ask, "Psychological? Dude, I may get most of my info from the internet but nobody trips on tea. Unless you just mean it chills you out." She pauses, spoon raised thoughtfully. "I can see that I guess."
Kilroy: Kilroy nodded at her offer for more food and sat back in his chair. She was asking more questions than he could keep track of, but he didn't mind. Though he could only manage to really answer her last set while the first just received a few nondescript noises. "Clearly you've never had tea from India. It's not always LSD sort of shit. But, it's like higher power influence. I don't know how to describe it. But, stay away from that shit. Alright? If someone offers you weird sounding tea from India tell them Kilroy Benson warned you about that and you are having none of it."
He clearly had some sort of experience. But, if there was anyone who was allowed to experiment with tea it was the Mad Hatter. Nevermind that he had once taken that whole experimenting thing to a whole different level.
Delilah: "No," Delilah confirms, taking Kilroy's bowl back to the stove for a refill. "No, I have not. So - wait, stay away from India tea? Higher power influence? You mean like a religious experience? I gotta say man, I don't think I'm at risk for one of those. After a mom who was big into the Bible but just sort of cherry picked and didn't even read closely enough to remember my namesake was not a cool chick... uh, long story short kind of turned me off the whole thing, you know?" She returns with the bowl to the table. "But sure. Sounds like a plan. There's nothing that kicks peer pressure in the balls like 'Kilroy Benson warned me about that'."
Her soup's lukewarm, now, but she stirs it purposefully, and obliges Kilroy by sipping it now and then. "So," Delilah ventures, after a moment of silence. "You going to tell me about how you got high on tea or what?"
Kilroy: He looked at her, as if he were considering his options and then looked up to the side of the room as if he saw something up on the ceiling. "Well I reaaallly shouldn't be encouraging this but-" Kilroy smiled. A sort of smile that was mischievous and perhaps a little childish. "It only works with a certain kind of tea. Don't get me wrong, if you try and smoke the leaves in a tea bag you can get high, but that. My dear. Is what we call cheating."
Kilroy got out of his chair and went to one of the cupboards, pulling out a little, almost rusty tin box that was covered in Chinese writing. Out of all the Wonderlanders, Kilroy felt like he was the closest to Carrol himself. Sure, that may not have been saying much since Carrol was a strange man himself, but there were certain traits. Certain hobbies that they both were prone to. Kilroy set the tin down on the middle of his little kitchen table and carefully opened it. "Do you know what the state flower of California is, Delilah? It's the Golden Poppy. Now, I lived there for a couple years after graduating film school and at the time I didn't know what the big fuss was about. I mean, they were pretty flowers and everything, but what's the big deal right?" Inside of the tin was about six carefully wrapped teabags. "Well, I met this actor who grew up on an Indian reservation and he taught me how to make Golden Poppy tea. We smoked the poppies, too, but the idea of getting something out of tea was what caught my interest. With any other poppy you'd trip so hard you wouldn't know your hands from your feet. But Golden Poppies are like poppy light. You can get a nice, happy high off them without worrying about tripping too hard."
Kilroy handed her one of the teabags. "Hold it up to the light for a second. See, okay, that right there are the poppy seeds. That's orange, lemon leaves, ginger and then a little hibiscus." He clasped his hands together. "It's the most legal and healthy way to get high and all you have to do is have a cup of tea."
Delilah: Delilah makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. "You're totally fine man. I'd get in to delinquency with or without you - this just makes the whole thing way less dangerous - and okay, more efficient - for me, so really you're doing a good deed." Not that Kilroy needed that encouragement, apparently, and she smirks back when he so kindly launches into his explanation. But, smirk or no, she's paying close attention.
"Stay classy, California," is the idle response to the state flower business. But then she is from Louisiana - New Orleans, even, though careful practice has destroyed her accent - so she can hardly judge. "So the flowers were just all over the place? Weren't they worried about - uh, yeah, people smoking them? You're not old, this isn't the sixties we're talking about. Or did the Man have trouble coming down on people 'cause they were like 'oh no officer, this is just my flower garden'?"
She takes the teabag, almost delicately, and holds it up. She spies a seed or two, and after poking at the suspended bag brings another to the front. "But I mean - there's lemon poppyseed muffins, right? How come you don't get high off of those?" She lowers her hand, and passes the bag back. "That's pretty cool though. And it sounds like it tastes really good - you know, poppy seeds or not."
Kilroy: "Well, it doesn't do much. And, you have to be really immature to smoke flowers, you know." Kilroy winked, put the teabag back in the tin then leaned back on the legs of his chair to put it on the counter. "I think it has something to do with smoking or boiling the seeds. I'm not sure. Chemistry shit. I nearly failed that in high school. I actually wasn't very good in anything except drama class..."
Kilroy's eyes glazed over for a moment as he dusted off those memories, then he snapped back to reality. "Listen, things are pretty weird right now, but can you promise me you'll show up to the wedding? I know the likelihood of May actually being there is pretty low right now, but I need a mess of help to stand alone. To quote a Beach Boy's song."
Delilah: "Duly noted," says Delilah. The whole high school business gets a dismissive wave of her hand. "Obviously you never needed it. The whole thing is just some elaborate hazing ritual, to see if you can stand a bunch of useless bullshit before you get a certificate that says you can go out into the real world. It seems like college is the same thing, only more drinking and you pay for it. And then - what? You're smarter because you shelled out thousands of dollars and four years of your life to get a piece of paper? Whatever." Clearly, she is too close to any part of school to be nostalgic about it, and perhaps doesn't even find that one point of enjoyment that Kilroy had.
Her miniature monologue is cut short, however, when he speaks again. She looks surprised, and for a second, doesn't have anything to say back. Then, "Dude, of course. You don't even need to ask. But I mean since you did - yeah, I'll be there. Whatever you need."
Kilroy: He smiled lightly at her and raised his eyebrows appreciatively. "I knew I could count on you, kid. I can tell these things." Kilroy tapped the side of his head as if he were psychic or the like. He nodded to himself as if he had just confirmed some silent thought, then kept working on eating his soup. There wasn't much left, actually. And, he was so hungry it was gone in a matter of moments. With food in him his body suddenly wanted the second thing he had been depriving it (besides a decent shower).
"Alright. Uncle Kilroy needs to take a nap. I'm going to tell myself that it's just going to be a small one. That way I'll be tricked into taking advantage of the nap and over sleeping. Thus getting the exact amount of sleep I needed in the first place." For a second Kilroy didn't really sound like Kilroy, but more like a mash up of every single movie rendition of the Mad Hatter.
Where: Kilroy's house
When: Backdated to a week before the wedding
Summary: Kilroy calls Delilah for some soup, etc.
Rating: PG
Kilroy: The house was clean. Cleaner than it had ever been. Everything was completely dust free, all his hats were placed perfectly in their places. All the dishes washed. It was almost as if he thought that if he kept the house clean she'd come back. Or if she just came to get her things, she'd see how well he took care of the place and reconsider.
It was just too bad he didn't take care of himself. He hadn't been able to really sleep or eat. Just shave and change clothes. Tea wasn't even that appetizing at this point. It was really quite pathetic. Like he was a balloon someone pulled the air out of. He could have asked anyone to bring him things for his cold, but Delilah seemed to always be the best suited for such things. And, simply put, she always had a knack for cheering him up. Which is what he needed.
When there was a knock on the door he put on his slippers and walked down the old wooden steps in PJ pants and an Adam Ant shirt (a get up very, very, very few got to see) and opened the door with a smile, then a covered cough. "I'd give you a hug or something, but it's better if you keep your distance. I don't want to get you sick."
Delilah: Delilah knew it was very trendy for teenagers to be sad and jaded these days, to despair at the state of the world and not have it in their little hearts to hope for the future. But fuck that, she had a reason to be emo, or at least thought she did, so she was going to do it even if it meant she wasn't a unique and beautiful snowflake after all. She was going to be depressed by the state of humanity and feel the hole where the hope of romance and even just happiness had been, and nobody was going to stop her.
Speaking of things nobody was going to stop her from doing - she looks a little disheveled, herself, when Kilroy opens the door, though she did manage to get appropriately dressed for the outside world, even if brushing her hair and matching her socks was a bit much to ask. And though she's no contest for Kilroy, she doesn't seem particularly fresh-faced, either, her eyes a little red, the skin under them a little dark. She holds up the white paper drugstore bag, and gives it a little shake, by way of greeting. That, and a smile, however slight. "It's cool. I'm wearing my invisible hazmat suit, aka the Immune System of Youth. But you've gotta take a shower before you think about hugs." She squints slightly. "And also eat something. Or drink a nice chicken broth. You can't take these super awesome meds without something in your stomach anyway, so c'mon, kitchen ahoy."
Kilroy: He was glad to see that she wasn't well groomed or fresh faced. It meant they could wallow together in emo. "I took a shower." Kilroy looked down at his shirt like a kid who was checking for dirt and then followed her into the kitchen. "I'm not really that hungry. Really. Or thirsty." He wagged his finger, even though her back was facing him at that point. "Definitely not thirsty." The more Kilroy rambled the more it was obvious he needed all of those things he said he didn't. Especially the thirsty part.
His kitchen was covered with teacups. Covered. From one end to the other there had to be thousands of teacups. They were all perfectly sorted, like any good collector would. The best teacups put up high on a shelf. The everyday ones hanging right above the counter. It was a wonder that he had room for anything else besides teacups. But, he did. Reaching under the counter he pulled out a metal pot and then took down a blue kettle from one of the hooks above the stove. "You're going to have to eat with me. Or I'm not doing it." Kilroy gave her a warning look like he meant it. And he did.
Delilah: "Hey, you want to be legally doped out on cold meds or not? You've got to put something in your stomach." Delilah wipes her feet at the door and follows Kilroy in, and to the kitchen. She has to stop in the door a moment to survey the teacup extravaganza - but all things said it's not really surprising. Just something she's never seen before, so she has to take it in. But then it's back to business, and she puts the drugstore bag on the nearest table, and shrugging off her own backpack, sets it on the floor, out of the way.
"Uh, like I came all this way not to mooch your food?" To that warning look, Delilah replies with a typical teenager 'duh' sort of expression. "Yeah right. Come on, I'll make you something healthy - but also digestible. I've been practicing. What've you got in the fridge?" She half-lifts both her hands, and sort of wiggles her fingers, as if only a moment away from seizing the utensils and foodstuffs for her own nefarious purposes. But also she's a kid and she's wiggling her fingers so it's just sort of ridiculous, and intentionally so.
Kilroy: He watched her reaction to the room with a sort of satisfaction. No, it's never out of surprise. Just wonder. That was the point, after all. It was like the Chinese lanterns that swung low over the tea party table in his tale. They were their to distract the eye from who was there. At least, for a moment. "I'm allowed to be a little frightened right? Because, it sounds like you just snuck into a culinary class at the community center...." Kilroy trailed off with a small smile when she asked what was in the fridge.
"Uhm. Some ca-carrots. Chicken." Kilroy furrowed his brow. He tried to think about what else could be in there, but right now all he could imagine were those carrots.
Delilah: Truly it is a sad world when carrots remind one of the lost love of one's life. Or any basic food item, really, or household object, or - there's a flicker of another expression across Delilah's face, and for that moment she seems so much more tired than any seventeen-year-old has the right to be. But it goes, and she moves on, quickly. "You're allowed to be a lot frightened. Internet. But I haven't made myself sick yet! Well I was a little at first but I think that was MSG withdrawal. The Anser Abode was big on takeout." Her hands lowered now, she punctuates with a nod.
"Have a seat. I'll see what I can do." Holding out her hand for the pot, she takes it before beginning an unceremoneous examination of the kitchen's contents. Between the fridge and the pantry she's satisfied, not that it really took a lot of doing - she comes back to the counter and stovetop with the chicken, a few cans of vegetable broth, and a box of dry angel hair pasta. No carrots. She'll throw those away if Kilroy goes to lie down or something. Rolling up her sleeves, she washes her hands and sets to work.
"You've been sleeping, right? Normal people hours?"
Kilroy: "Defffiiinnne, normal people." Kilroy took a seat on one of his wooden chairs and watched her move around the kitchen. "I- when my cat is around I can sleep. But you know she only comes around when there's people food and there hasn't been a lot of that lately." He looked to the door expectingly. As if Kettle was to show up at any moment. And, after a few seconds of waiting, she did.
If May wasn't the love of Kilroy's life, Kettle was. She was the largest, fluffiest black cat New York had to offer and she acted like she owned the world, no, the universe. And, if she never left Kilroy's home, she could probably keep on believing that. "There she is. God damn it I usually have the imperial march play when she comes in. Next time, next time I promise." Kettle ignored Kilroy's ramblings and went right up to Delilah, circled her feet and promptly gave a very loud meow for food.
Delilah: "Seven consecutive hours, usually beginning when the sun is down and ending when it's already come up." There's some chicken-cutting, some water-and-broth boiling, and other busywork. When there's nothing left to do but wait for the water to boil, Delilah half-turns to look back at Kilroy. "You should sleep with some crackers on your nightstand, then." And lo, there comes the cat in question. She looks down at her with a bit of an eyebrow quirk. Delilah is allergic to cat spit - but that doesn't tend to be a problem, with limited exposure. "Sorry kitty, nothing safely salmonella free yet. I'll give you some chicken once it's cooked." The water is boiling. She turns back to the stove to dump the pasta in.
"Haha, for real? That's pretty awesome. She looks like the sort of cat who could pull it off." Once the pasta is back to a boil, she tosses in the cut-up chicken, then covers the whole thing and turns the heat down. Then, because there was some raw meat cutting involved, she washes her hands. "But back on track with normal people sleeping - seriously, you'll get better faster. And naps are totally allowed unless they stop you from doing the seven consecutive hours thing. I'm not gonna be your mom, Kilroy, but - ...actually I have no convincing follow-up to that, what with the soup, and me telling you what to do so you feel better. But you are on your fucking own with the laundry."
Kilroy: He looked up at her as if he needed a mom. Just for that day, for a couple hours, he needed someone to be the grownup besides him. But, he was nearly forty and the look vanished just as soon as it appeared. All men wanted nothing more than to be babied. Even if they fought against it. Even if they insisted it wasn't true. They did. They needed it. "It's alright. I did my laundry. I cleaned- everything. I just forgot how to eat and sleep alone, that's all." Kilroy smiled, really smiled and then put his hands down as Kettle walked by, scooping her up in his arms. She gave a defiant meow but eventually settled and purred.
"If naps are allowed then I'll start with those. Maybe a nap, then a couple episodes of Family Guy then another nap. Maybe I'll trick myself into getting some actual sleep." He turned his head and coughed so that no one would catch wind of it and then gave a miserable look to the floor. "I need to get better by next week. That's my mission."
Delilah: "Well, as long as everything hasn't-" Who's she kidding? Of course everything's fallen apart. He was going to marry the woman. "As long as it's just those two. Total small fries. You'll get back on track no prob." With an eye on the pot, she watches Kettle and Kilroy for a moment, and cat spit or no is glad he isn't alone. Because if Wolf is any indication, animals most certainly do count as company. It's just a matter of making sure there isn't some sort of explosion of the cat population in the house, leading Kilroy down the dangerous path most stereotypically followed by old women. Crazy cat guy doesn't have the same ring to it, either.
"Good. Excellent. Two thumbs up." She makes the aformentioned hand motion. "I am all about missions so you just tell me what you need. They wouldn't let me buy Sudafed in bulk, so like if you run out, or-" Here again there's that break, and the fleeting glimpse of her selfishly, utterly destroyed heart. There's some empathy there, too, there has to be or she wouldn't be there. But then she finds her words again. "-seriously. Anything you need."
Kilroy: He was lost in thought for a moment, just a moment, but the last thing she said captured his attention. May and Kilroy just didn't let each other down, apparently. "Yeah?" Kilroy asked and tried to keep smiling, but failed a little miserably. "Thank you." He said clearly. It was the most crystal clear thing he said all day, and probably the clearest thing she had ever heard him say in person. "It's going to be okay, though. It's going to be okay."
It wasn't clear what Kilroy was talking about. Maybe his cold. Maybe his relationship with May. Maybe life in general. But, he seemed somewhat sure about himself. At least, he had to pretend to be. He waved his hand dismissively. "Let's not talk about my future needs. Let's talk tea." The Hatter grinned. "Tell me my dear. What are your two favorite flavors? And don't be a smart ass about it. They have to be flavors that might go together and could be feasibly be found in tea. Don't give me a look. I know this sounds stupid, but god damn it I need you to play along."
Delilah: Delilah remains profoundly skeptical. But she also remains completely unwilling to play therapist, to "talk about feelings" when one sad face from Kilroy could be all it takes to make her cry. Cry. In front of another person. Unacceptable. Not going to happen. So she nods, and says, "Right, tea."
There's another peek at the simmering soup, and she takes the lid off long enough to stir things about with a spoon and see how they're doing. 'Done' is the verdict, it seems, because she turns off the burner, and sets the lid to the side. "Um - so confession. I don't... actually drink tea. Or I haven't. Please don't hurt me, I'm young and misguided and it's not my fault!" She does not give Kilroy a look in the least, busy excusing her sorry lack of a tea education. "But... I don't know, I know there's orange tea, is there chocolate tea?" Delilah holds up her hands somewhat defensively, just in case.
Kilroy: "Oh, I know you don't drink tea. Here's a confession, I didn't drink tea when I was your age either. Then, probably around the time I was eighteen, I started doing it to be different. Or so I thought anyway." He gives her a look of true understanding. Like he had been there, done that. Plus, he reasoned, it was lunacy to expect even the Hatter to come out of an American home (WASP as they might be) drinking tea without some crazed reason behind it.
"My dear. I have orange-chocolate tea. Truly. And it doesn't suck." Kettle started to wiggle in his arms so he let her down. "But, its more of a dessert tea, so we'll have it after." Kilroy seemed dead set on the idea. He hadn't actually had any tea since the debacle with May and really it was just a sad thing to drink tea alone. Whether Delilah liked it or not, he was going to have tea with her. It at least made him feel better. Tea was like the Hatter's true drug. He was never without it if he could help it. He got to his feet and took out two porcelain bowls and then two spoons and placed them on the little kitchen table before he sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. He was still pretty weak, but the smell of food was enough to energize him just a little bit.
Delilah: "My age?" Delilah repeats, with a faint hint of mock incredulity in her voice. "I'm almost eighteen." Which is true - even if Anser, forgetting that children have birthdays, believes she's still fourteen. But she's glad she hasn't been thrown from the house and barred from ever returning for her lack of tea knowledge, so she won't push the point. Eyeing the pot on the stove, then the bowsl, she decides to take the less dangerous of two paths, and takes the bowls to the stovetop. Ladeling Kilroy's first, she picks out as many tasteless boiled chicken bites as she can from the pot, along with an average amount of noodles and broth. Then hers, the level lower - given the lack of seasoning and the fact that everything is boiled, this is not exactly a tasty soup, though it doesn't tend to matter when one's sick - and she returns to the table with both bowls. Kilroy's is slid across to him.
"It does exist! How do they, like... put the chocolate flavor in? Because I'm assuming for the orange there's some orange bits in the teabag, and then the flavor gets into the water, but. I don't know man, I'm failing chemistry anyway. And what's the deal with non-dessert teas? I mean the normal flavors, like whatever Picard is always ordering - Earl Grey? - and that stuff. Is there some special tea plant all that stuff comes from, or is it from totally everyday plants you see all the time, only people cut it and dried it up and stuck it in hot water?" There is a pause, and as an afterthought, she adds, pointing to Kilroy's bowl, "Eat." Just in case.
Kilroy: He opened his mouth to answer her questions, but when she ordered him to eat he did as he was told. Warily taking a test taste, he considered it and then nodded in approval. "I don't know if it's just my shot taste buds or what, but this isn't bad." Kilroy waved her spoon at her, punctuating his words. "Not. Bad. At. All." He went back to eating and then after a moment he returned the conversation back to tea.
"Okay okay. So, here's the thing about chocolate. Not as magical as you think. It actually comes from a tree, like in nut form I think? So they just crush it up and mix it with a little sweetener and bing, bong, bow you have chocolate tea. Also, there's something to be said about putting tea into boiling water. Earl Grey, which is an acquired taste, doesn't taste right unless you put it in boiling water. Some chemistry thing I'm not sure about, but I know it's for real..." he trailed off thoughtfully, tapping his spoon on his lips. "And yes, classically there has to be a certain plant in it to officially make it tea. A tea plant. If you will. Though sometimes people put weird things like flowers in it. Like rosehips or hibiscus."
Delilah: "Shot taste buds," she reassures him. "It pretty much tastes like nothing. Not even chicken. So your tongue is like 'hey, I don't have to do anything!' and calls it a day." Still, she smiles a little, and sits down across from him with her own bowl. She promised, so she'll eat. She manages a few uneventful spoonfuls while he explains. "Don't you always make tea with boiling water? Or no?" She purses her lips a bit at the mention of just throwing any old plant in tea. "Do those actually taste like anything? Except... herby? And wait, so it's just one plant, and then whatever else you toss in with it makes the different flavors?" What about green tea? What about - but she holds back the long list of questions that by and large serve only to demonstrate what uncharted territory this is for her. Now if they'd just make tea simple - but it's a little late for that.
Kilroy: "Well sometimes you don't have to boil the water. Like when you make ice tea you leave a pitcher of it in the sun and it cooks itself slowly. That works too. I'm not sure why, but it does." Even though she was picking at the soup he was nearly downing it. His body glad for the nourishment he had deprived it of. "It tastes mostly herby. Like if you ever have straight green tea? With no sweetener? Just the green tea? It's like you're biting into a bitter plant. Delicious. But, an acquired taste to be sure." He paused again, thoughtfully and then continued.
"But, never drink tea that has anything in the ingredients that sounds artificial. The true magic of it is that tea is something where a bunch of random things are gathered together, cooked in a little bag and served as a beverage. And most teas have some sort of psychological effect."
Delilah: "You want some more?" Delilah asks, noting the rapidly depleting level of Kilroy's bowl. She waits for the request before actually sweeping off with it for a refill, however - being a friend performing vaguely motherly duties is one thing, being overbearing and coddling is another. "Is that what bitters are? The stuff you mix with drinks? Like the undistilled liquid form?" The repeated question intonation would suggest she has no idea what she's talking about, but since bitters are bitter and herby, and tea is like biting into a bitter plant, all her evidence on hand suggests their could be a relation! And, well, this is Kilroy. She can count on him not to judge.
"'Acquired taste' is one way to put it. Why do people acquire tastes, anywa-" The pure hypothetical trails off, and for the umpteenth time she gives the man a look. A little skeptical, but not so much that she doesn't ask, "Psychological? Dude, I may get most of my info from the internet but nobody trips on tea. Unless you just mean it chills you out." She pauses, spoon raised thoughtfully. "I can see that I guess."
Kilroy: Kilroy nodded at her offer for more food and sat back in his chair. She was asking more questions than he could keep track of, but he didn't mind. Though he could only manage to really answer her last set while the first just received a few nondescript noises. "Clearly you've never had tea from India. It's not always LSD sort of shit. But, it's like higher power influence. I don't know how to describe it. But, stay away from that shit. Alright? If someone offers you weird sounding tea from India tell them Kilroy Benson warned you about that and you are having none of it."
He clearly had some sort of experience. But, if there was anyone who was allowed to experiment with tea it was the Mad Hatter. Nevermind that he had once taken that whole experimenting thing to a whole different level.
Delilah: "No," Delilah confirms, taking Kilroy's bowl back to the stove for a refill. "No, I have not. So - wait, stay away from India tea? Higher power influence? You mean like a religious experience? I gotta say man, I don't think I'm at risk for one of those. After a mom who was big into the Bible but just sort of cherry picked and didn't even read closely enough to remember my namesake was not a cool chick... uh, long story short kind of turned me off the whole thing, you know?" She returns with the bowl to the table. "But sure. Sounds like a plan. There's nothing that kicks peer pressure in the balls like 'Kilroy Benson warned me about that'."
Her soup's lukewarm, now, but she stirs it purposefully, and obliges Kilroy by sipping it now and then. "So," Delilah ventures, after a moment of silence. "You going to tell me about how you got high on tea or what?"
Kilroy: He looked at her, as if he were considering his options and then looked up to the side of the room as if he saw something up on the ceiling. "Well I reaaallly shouldn't be encouraging this but-" Kilroy smiled. A sort of smile that was mischievous and perhaps a little childish. "It only works with a certain kind of tea. Don't get me wrong, if you try and smoke the leaves in a tea bag you can get high, but that. My dear. Is what we call cheating."
Kilroy got out of his chair and went to one of the cupboards, pulling out a little, almost rusty tin box that was covered in Chinese writing. Out of all the Wonderlanders, Kilroy felt like he was the closest to Carrol himself. Sure, that may not have been saying much since Carrol was a strange man himself, but there were certain traits. Certain hobbies that they both were prone to. Kilroy set the tin down on the middle of his little kitchen table and carefully opened it. "Do you know what the state flower of California is, Delilah? It's the Golden Poppy. Now, I lived there for a couple years after graduating film school and at the time I didn't know what the big fuss was about. I mean, they were pretty flowers and everything, but what's the big deal right?" Inside of the tin was about six carefully wrapped teabags. "Well, I met this actor who grew up on an Indian reservation and he taught me how to make Golden Poppy tea. We smoked the poppies, too, but the idea of getting something out of tea was what caught my interest. With any other poppy you'd trip so hard you wouldn't know your hands from your feet. But Golden Poppies are like poppy light. You can get a nice, happy high off them without worrying about tripping too hard."
Kilroy handed her one of the teabags. "Hold it up to the light for a second. See, okay, that right there are the poppy seeds. That's orange, lemon leaves, ginger and then a little hibiscus." He clasped his hands together. "It's the most legal and healthy way to get high and all you have to do is have a cup of tea."
Delilah: Delilah makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. "You're totally fine man. I'd get in to delinquency with or without you - this just makes the whole thing way less dangerous - and okay, more efficient - for me, so really you're doing a good deed." Not that Kilroy needed that encouragement, apparently, and she smirks back when he so kindly launches into his explanation. But, smirk or no, she's paying close attention.
"Stay classy, California," is the idle response to the state flower business. But then she is from Louisiana - New Orleans, even, though careful practice has destroyed her accent - so she can hardly judge. "So the flowers were just all over the place? Weren't they worried about - uh, yeah, people smoking them? You're not old, this isn't the sixties we're talking about. Or did the Man have trouble coming down on people 'cause they were like 'oh no officer, this is just my flower garden'?"
She takes the teabag, almost delicately, and holds it up. She spies a seed or two, and after poking at the suspended bag brings another to the front. "But I mean - there's lemon poppyseed muffins, right? How come you don't get high off of those?" She lowers her hand, and passes the bag back. "That's pretty cool though. And it sounds like it tastes really good - you know, poppy seeds or not."
Kilroy: "Well, it doesn't do much. And, you have to be really immature to smoke flowers, you know." Kilroy winked, put the teabag back in the tin then leaned back on the legs of his chair to put it on the counter. "I think it has something to do with smoking or boiling the seeds. I'm not sure. Chemistry shit. I nearly failed that in high school. I actually wasn't very good in anything except drama class..."
Kilroy's eyes glazed over for a moment as he dusted off those memories, then he snapped back to reality. "Listen, things are pretty weird right now, but can you promise me you'll show up to the wedding? I know the likelihood of May actually being there is pretty low right now, but I need a mess of help to stand alone. To quote a Beach Boy's song."
Delilah: "Duly noted," says Delilah. The whole high school business gets a dismissive wave of her hand. "Obviously you never needed it. The whole thing is just some elaborate hazing ritual, to see if you can stand a bunch of useless bullshit before you get a certificate that says you can go out into the real world. It seems like college is the same thing, only more drinking and you pay for it. And then - what? You're smarter because you shelled out thousands of dollars and four years of your life to get a piece of paper? Whatever." Clearly, she is too close to any part of school to be nostalgic about it, and perhaps doesn't even find that one point of enjoyment that Kilroy had.
Her miniature monologue is cut short, however, when he speaks again. She looks surprised, and for a second, doesn't have anything to say back. Then, "Dude, of course. You don't even need to ask. But I mean since you did - yeah, I'll be there. Whatever you need."
Kilroy: He smiled lightly at her and raised his eyebrows appreciatively. "I knew I could count on you, kid. I can tell these things." Kilroy tapped the side of his head as if he were psychic or the like. He nodded to himself as if he had just confirmed some silent thought, then kept working on eating his soup. There wasn't much left, actually. And, he was so hungry it was gone in a matter of moments. With food in him his body suddenly wanted the second thing he had been depriving it (besides a decent shower).
"Alright. Uncle Kilroy needs to take a nap. I'm going to tell myself that it's just going to be a small one. That way I'll be tricked into taking advantage of the nap and over sleeping. Thus getting the exact amount of sleep I needed in the first place." For a second Kilroy didn't really sound like Kilroy, but more like a mash up of every single movie rendition of the Mad Hatter.