(Untitled)

[aj_crawley]

Crowley can't turn invisible, exactly. He doesn't have an invisibility cloak, nor any sort of trinket or talisman that'll do the job for him; neither is he possessed of the ability to make himself so through the quirks of - say - genetics, or radiation, or the bite of a super-powered insect

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[nitro_is_ace]

Ace just wants some soup after a day of biking. There's nothing more comforting than soup, right? Especially split pea soup. It's lovely.

But it needs a little salt, so Ace stops by a table on her way towards the couch with her mug of split pea soup and liberally salts her soup.

Three steps later she stops, spoon in her mouth.

...

Sweet split pea soup - the newest taste sensation?

[aj_crawley]

Someone to her left has... a sudden coughing fit. Yeah.

[nitro_is_ace]

Wait wait wait, she might be on to something here. Ace backtracks, and experimentally 'salts' her soup some more.

Really sweet soup.

...

This would be Ace, unscrewing the the top of the salt shaker and dumping the contents into her mug of soup. Don't tell Spoon.

[aj_crawley]

This time, Crowley isn't quite able to disguise the sound of disgust he makes. It sounds a lot like:

"Yeeuirghk."

[nitro_is_ace]

Ace is stirring. Stiiirring happily.

And maybe triangulating on the sounds she's been hearing.

She tastes an experimental spoon-ful. Hrm. Now she eyes the salt-shaker at the next table.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley watches, exclamations of disgust subsiding into a morbid, silent fascination. He's torn, you see. On the one hand, he should perhaps be proud of himself for having a hand in the creation of such an... abomination. On the other hand - well, Crowley is a demon who appreciates the finer things in life, and good food is one of them. And that is some perfectly good food.

He peers over the top of his sunglasses, on tenterhooks.

[nitro_is_ace]

Drat, her prey's gone silent. She'll have to go with best guess.

With the aim of a girl who grew up making grenades, she flings the mug and its contents in the general direction of the interested sounds.

Ace has a long, long history of dousing various people in food-type liquids.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley squawks, instincts - blunted by the fascination with which he'd been watching the desecrated soup - kicking in a second too late. The mug disappears in mid-air, just in time to avoid a mild concussion. The soup... does not.

[nitro_is_ace]

Now it is Ace's turn to snicker. It's almost better than the time she dumped milkshake on her git of a boss, a long time ago.

Also, Ace has no idea what that click was about. Surely no one took a picture. Nope.

[aj_crawley]

"That was unnecessary," Crowley scowls, removing pea-souped sunglasses to better glare at Ace - and leaving behind a rather comical pair of soup-free patches.

A drop of soup drips off the end of his nose, and into his wine.

[nitro_is_ace]

"Sugar in my soup was rather unnecessary too, if y'think about it." Ace points out, as sweet as the sugar that was in her soup.

[aj_crawley]

"You didn't seem to mind," Crowley counters, soupily. He looks down at his glasses, lip curling, and then waves a hand, the gesture short and irritated. Soup be gone!

[nitro_is_ace]

Ace can get more if he's short on soup.

"I've had a few decades t'learn how t'act, at need." Ace points out, being entirely soup free, and desperately wanting a glass of water.

[aj_crawley]

"And switching into super-spy mode and then trying to concuss me is a reasonable reaction to sugar in your soup?" he asks indignantly.