one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]
[ It's been almost a week since ex-mafia!Philip had a very unfortunate event run-in with still-mafia!Dean. The result? His previous Wonderland lives are still intact, but he's down one eye and his arm isn't doing so well either. And that's the understatement of the day
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What he did think about was how to face Dean again.
He was hoping he could be the one to make the first move, but he was also hoping for a point further ahead in time that would give him a chance at recovering sufficiently to smile out of conviction rather than the fact that he's practically chugged a whole pharmacy of painkillers.
As for his reaction, he--
He immediately scolds himself for flinching at Dean's voice. ]
{ Hurry, monkey, get outta here! He's gonna finish the job! }
[Well. That's one week worth of nightmares for you.
As for his reaction, if necessary he is determined and ready to show Dean the same amount of obnoxiously persistent forgiveness his friend once offered him. ]
Don't worry, I- I've got this.
[ Scooping up the glass precariously Philip stands and turns to face Dean. That expression, full-blown guilt with matching bags under his eyes included? Really not something he was looking forward to seeing.
Time to pull himself together and put on his finest fake morphine smile. ]
...I was just trying to make scrambled eggs. I know the scrambling is working, but if I actually manage to get them into the frying pan first, do you want some?
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What was the family business, again? Saving people? Hunting things? When was the last time he did either of those? So far he's managed to make new friends, mutilate said friends, and refrain from getting any monster-hunting done outside of one pathetic attempt against the slender fiend out in the woods.
Better off dead? Maybe. Better off going home. At least he knows what he's up against there.
Dean clears his throat awkwardly and shifts. Philip is wearing sunglasses - good job there, too, because it's probably awful and Dean would almost rather have him looking like Elwood Blues than like he went ten rounds with a meat tenderizer.
His arm is in a sling. His good arm in a sling, because Dean shot him. The writhing feeling in his stomach threatening to make him throw up what little he ate for breakfast (i.e, nothing), Dean takes a careful, shuddering breath and barely nods.]
...yeah, sure. You, uh...you need any help?
[The word "guilty" doesn't even begin to cover it. He wants to go back to his room, break all the lamps, and sit on the floor against the bed.
And never come out again.]
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[ Sadly Philip does indeed know that look. It's a look that says Dean's direct speech to angsty inner monologue ratio is currently somewhere around 1:30. So much for filing a patent for that one day. ]
I'd let you cut the onions, but you already look like you're about to cry.
[ Thing is, after everything the hunter said to Philip, after the things he told him to get him back on his feet, after all that Dean is simply not allowed to feel miserable about this. ]
Hand me the butter?
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Yet even with the surplus of angst that's threatening to shut down his entire body, there are some things out there (aside from cutting your friend's eye out) that are simply criminal.]
Dude, onions in scrambled eggs?
[He slides a paper-wrapped stick of butter across the counter and gives Philip an "Are you serious?" look.]
Why dontcha add some bell peppers while you're at it and throw off the whole eggy flavor?
[Well done, Philip. No, seriously. No sarcasm here. Well done. You weirdo Brits and your weirdo food.]
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You mean those bell peppers?
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Get those crimes against humanity out of my face and out of my eggs.
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You- you're right, I'm... I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, let me just--
[ Cue deliberate cup flip. Bell peppers, meet frying pan! ]
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[ Happily stirring peppers, lalala~ ]
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Dean twitches, and for a moment he is this close to doing one of those "Bro you're pushing your luck" whacks on the back of Philip's head.
He refrains, but the smell of sautéing peppers is just...too damn nasty.]
I'm not eating that.
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[ Which Philip swifty produces from the cupboard and places on a hot plate far away from those evil bell peppers. ]
...You do use a pan and butter, right? Or would that compromise the eggy flavour? Because if you'd rather just lick raw yolk off a plate...
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Eggs are serious business. Now should I make some damn bacon, or would you rather eat beans on toast?
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[ If his eyes weren't obscured by the sunglasses Dean would be privy to a beautifully condescending look directed at the grated cheese. Fortunately his tone should convey most of the sentiment.
Up next are chopped onions for his pan and the one-handed cracking of several eggs. ]
How many for you?
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[While the tone is affronted, the grin says that he's anything but. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Discounting Clarence's methods of cardiac surgery, of course.
Dean pulls some bacon out of a convenient magical pantry and moves to a stove with actual flames, thank you very much. It cooks meat better, okay?]
I want, uh- [He thinks. How long has it been since he last ate? Couple days.] ...four.
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[ Four eggs for Dean, another bowl with two for Philip. The less said about his limited faith regarding how long he will actually be able to keep that food down the better. ]
You probably won't even taste that and it'll only mess up the texture, but suit yourself.
[ He puts one whisk into each bowl and slides one over to Dean before setting to work. ]
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[Dean says matter-of-factly, whisking his eggs like a pro boss and putting a little butter in his pan. It starts melting slowly. For a bit, it's quiet. It feels sort of normal. Then-]
So, uh...
[The bacon sizzles as he sets several pieces in the other pan, and Dean attempts to work around anything pertaining to the Dick Tracy event.]
...anything exciting happen recently?
[Besides you-know-what.]
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...Philip might have to paraphrase that a little. ]
Not... not really, no.
[ Add salt and a few herbs and the eggs wander into the frying pan.
As he watches them Philip tries to think back to before the event to anything that might count as exciting or at least make for a little conversation, but recalling information in his current state of mind is not exactly-- Ohh!
Hey, um... did you-- Did you ever hunt, um... a mummy? I mean, do- do they exist?
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