Conversations Had While Baking
“What smells so good?” Devon asked, wandering lazily into the kitchen. Beatrix glanced up at him for only a second before turning her gaze back to a magazine on the rickety old table.
“Pie,” she answered shortly, licking her finger and turning the page of the magazine.
“Since when did you get all domestic?” Devon asked, bending over to peer into the oven.
“You said Percy was depressed,” she explained. “I’m making comfort food.”
“Yeah, but he’s not here,” Devon replied.
“He might be soon,” she said. “He said that he’d be home yesterday or today.”
“You honestly think he meant that?” he asked, taking a seat across from her at the table. “I’m guessing he won’t be back for at least another week. He had that look when he left.”
“What look?” Beatrix asked, finally figuring that the conversation had enough worth for her to take her eyes off the magazine.
“You wouldn’t notice it. I can just tell when he’s fed up,” he said.
“Maybe he’s just fed up with you,” she suggested. “That’s why you notice it.” He gave her a dirty look.
“He’s not fed up with me. I’m his best friend.”
“You also never shut up around him. No wonder he leaves you behind.”
“He leaves you behind too!” Devon exclaimed. Beatrix sighed and rolled her eyes.
“He leaves me behind because I’m the only one responsible enough to handle things while he’s gone,” she told him, as if it were the obvious explanation. “I’m the only one coolheaded enough to handle your nonsense.”
“That’s a load of crap,” he replied. “He leaves you behind because you serve no real purpose. If anything, I’m left behind because I’m supposed to handle things. I am, after all, second in command.”
“I wasn’t aware we had a chain of command.”
“Well, we do. I am second in command. First mate, if you will.”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “I’m sure that’s why he doesn’t take you places.” He glared at her obviously sarcastic attitude.
“Whatever, girl,” he said with a frustrated exhale. “I’m not going to sit here and argue with you.”
“I’m not asking you to stay, jackass,” Beatrix muttered, turning back to her magazine.
“Fine, bitch,” Devon answered, standing up abruptly.
“Get a move on, closet case,” she said, raising her eyes to glare at him.
“Whore,” he spat.
“Twink,” she returned venomously.
“Floozy.”
“Jerk off.”
“Slut.”
Beatrix opened her mouth to reply again when a noise at the front door caused both of their heads to turn, completely distracted from their argument. Without words, they quickly dashed into the living room to greet their guest.
“Percy, you’re back!” Devon cried cheerfully, practically jumping on the young man as he entered the house. Beatrix was equally euphoric as she latched onto Percival’s arm with affection.
“Shouldn’t you two be asleep or something?” he asked tiredly, kicking off his muddy old tennis shoes next to the door.
“We were waiting for the pie to finish baking,” Beatrix explained. “It’ll be done soon; do you want some?”
“Sure,” Percival replied. He awkwardly removed his arms from each of their grips. “What’s with you guys? You’d think I’ve been gone for a month.”
“It’s really boring here without you,” Devon answered.