There is a certain bright-winged young woman who could probably smell a pan of such yummy brownies from a mile away. She's been craving good brownies, really (mixes aren't the same as the really good stuff), ever since she made some from a boxed mix for Ruvin.
"Oh my god are those real proper brownies from scratch?" she asks in an awe-struck voice after appearing rather suddenly in the doorway. She looks about as much like a sleepy angel as is possible, amusingly enough, having woken up from a nap to this lovely smell. Her hair's mussed and she's wearing yoga pants and a tank top that bares her back, and her wings are tucked neatly against her back. She is, in other words, the epitome of adorable.
Alfred looks over at the young woman and smiles warmly. She is adorable, indeed. He is reminded of another young lady who is quite fond of home-made brownies, and the bright-winged young woman will find it quite easy to get as many brownies as she would like. Alfred's nostalgic, soft heart is not a secret to those who know him, and it will not stay one to those just meeting him.
"They certainly are." Fetching a plate for her, Alfred nods politely, pleased that he is meeting someone who appreciates a properly-made brownie. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I would be pleased to plate a few for you, if you would like."
Dusty squees (just a little) and bounces a little before trotting in to get up in the pantry for a glass. Milk with her brownies and all. "I'd like, I'd like!" she proclaims, and then stops with her empty glass clutched to her chest, smiling wide and innocent. "I'm Dusty Baker." She's apparently remembered her manners.
"I haven't had real proper brownies in ages," she adds as she turns to open the fridge and get the milk. "Box mixes are so lacking."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Baker." It truly is. It is lovely to meet someone who seems to be so happy. Even back home, there seemed to be quite a lack of genuinely happy people in his life.
At the mention of box mixes, Alfred nods sympathetically as he cuts, then lifts, several neat chocolaty squares onto a plate. "From what I understand, there is truly no comparison." He is not saying this from personal knowledge, mind you, or pride. Alfred has never fixed boxed brownies. He simply believes that anything made with love is a very good thing.
With a gentlemanly bow, Alfred offers her the plate.
It seems, Alfred Pennyworth, today you get all the tinehgirls.
Phoebe's ward lives at the Conrad. This means Phoebe spends a lot of time there. She's quick to skip her merry way into the kitchen at the smell of brownies. She makes cookies and even though they're really good she has yet to learn how to make a good brownie.
"ZOMG. Want!"
Phoebe should be a little more eloquent than this, really.
Alfred's eyes do widen a bit, but he is not one to deny anyone a brownie. Torn between amusement and confusion, he fetches another plate for the young lady and smiles pleasantly at her.
"I would be very happy to get you a few brownies." And, he will! He is hoping to get, perhaps, a name. Alfred is willing to wait until after a few bites until he gets a full and coherent sentence, however. He knows the power of freshly baked brownies. It can fell even a superhero. Oh yes.
As he neatly cuts the brownies into even squares, he tilts his head at her. "I am Alfred Pennyworth."
"Ooh!" Phoebe waits until Alfred has cut all of the brownies into neat squares before snatching one up. "That's right. I didn't even introduce myself. GOD I swear I'm not always so spazzy."
Only she is, Alfred. She really is.
"I'm Phoebe Donovan and hee you have an accent. That is so cool. I love accents. I went around with a French accent for like a whole year until my friend Amanda was all, duh Phoebe, people can totally tell you're not French and then I was all SHUT UP YOU WHORE."
Alfred smiles and gets Phoebe several more brownies. He is glad to see that she is enjoying them. He listens carefully to her, giving her his full attention. He hopes he does not miss anything she is saying, as she seems to have quite a bit to say.
He is a bit taken back at some of her more...colorful terminology, but she seems to have a very exuberant personality and it is refreshing. "I do have an accent, and thank you very much. I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Donovan, and I believe that the voice you have now is quite lovely. It suits you well."
How can anyone resist the smell of freshly-baked brownies? Harvey definitely can't, it's been far too long since he's smelled anything that delicious. Especially now that he's able to, uh, smell properly and everything.
"I smell something good," he says, poking his head into the kitchen curiously. He pauses when he sees who it is, unsure of how Alfred's going to greet him -- well, unsure if Alfred even knows who he is, too.
"Uh, hi," he adds, giving Alfred a slightly sheepish grin. "--Alfred, right?"
Alfred turns curiously and recognizes the man instantly. He is very glad he has already spoken to Rachel, and was prepared for such a meeting.
Smiling politely, Alfred inclines his head. "Alfred Pennyworth. Yes, Sir, Mr. Dent. It is a pleasure to see you once again." To be honest, it is. It is good to see a familiar face, and Mr. Dent had always been very polite and kind to Alfred...before everything went to pieces.
The older man has not, of course, forgotten everything that happened before, but this is a different place and a different time, of sorts. And, Alfred Pennyworth has never been a man to hold a grudge. In his heart, he does not believe his Bruce would ever want that to change. Also, he has a great deal of respect for what Mr. Dent attempted to do in Gotham, and for how dearly he loved Rachel Dawes.
So, it is with genuine friendliness that Alfred gestures toward the brownies. "Shall I fix you a plate, Mr. Dent?"
"Nice to see you again too," Harvey replies, heading all the way into the kitchen. He likes Alfred, too, from the few times he's met him -- he's definitely much easier to get along with than Bruce.
Harvey hasn't forgotten, either. But this is a new place, and he's trying to change, but it's slow going.
"Wonderful," Alfred replies and immediately fixes the man a plate of brownies. He brings the plate over and presents it to Mr. Dent with a smile and a slight bow. Some habits simply stick with people, and a lifetime of happily serving people is a part of who Alfred is. It gives him purpose and strength.
"I am grateful to find those here who remind me of home, Mr. Dent. It is, I believe, making the transition considerably less jarring." As adaptable as Alfred can be, finding himself in an, for all intents and purposes, entirely new world has been rather difficult.
"May I inquire as to how long you have been here, Sir?" Please, pardon his curiosity. At this moment, he is simply grateful for the conversation and familiar company.
The young man who's benefited from Alfred's care and sacrifices stands in the kitchen doorway, a faint smile turning his lips. He's wearing one of the suits Alfred has so carefully and lovingly stitched together, this one in charcoal gray in a lightweight but still sumptuous wool.
"Different worlds, different timelines, and I still recognize that smell from my childhood. It amazes me--there are so many differences between universes but some things are still the same no matter where you go, or where you're from."
The voice is recognized instantly, naturally, and as Alfred turns, he is already smiling warmly. Upon seeing young Master Bruce in the suit, Alfred feels very happy and proud.
He is already plating several brownies for Bruce, and he walks them over to him, inclining his head fondly and with a great deal of respect as he holds out the well-laden plate. "The recipe is still my mother's. I do not expect that would ever change." Alfred pauses for a moment, thinking back to memories of a very young Bruce sitting in the kitchen, waiting until the moment Alfred would tell him the brownies were finally cool enough to eat.
"I was hoping these would remain a favorite of yours, Master Bruce. How are you faring today, Sir?"
Bruce's answering smile is just as warm as he takes the plate. "Thank you, Alfred. I've been faring all right, I suppose. I put in a good morning's work at the junk shop."
He smiles, taking in the sight of Alfred in his element. One of his elements, anyway--Bruce always marveled, growing up, how it seemed Alfred could to most anything he set his mind to. "I see you've had a productive day, too."
Listening closely, Alfred nods slightly. He is very pleased that the young man has something he can do. An idle Bruce Wayne is something Alfred would be concerned about.
He smiles pleasantly as he moves about the kitchen, and he stops for a moment to ask if Master Bruce would like something to drink before answering him.
"I have, indeed, Sir. I find there is always something to do, if one only looks to see what is needed." He looks down, smiling, and wonders how many times this Bruce has heard that, or something similar.
Comments 42
"Oh my god are those real proper brownies from scratch?" she asks in an awe-struck voice after appearing rather suddenly in the doorway. She looks about as much like a sleepy angel as is possible, amusingly enough, having woken up from a nap to this lovely smell. Her hair's mussed and she's wearing yoga pants and a tank top that bares her back, and her wings are tucked neatly against her back. She is, in other words, the epitome of adorable.
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"They certainly are." Fetching a plate for her, Alfred nods politely, pleased that he is meeting someone who appreciates a properly-made brownie. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I would be pleased to plate a few for you, if you would like."
Reply
"I haven't had real proper brownies in ages," she adds as she turns to open the fridge and get the milk. "Box mixes are so lacking."
Reply
At the mention of box mixes, Alfred nods sympathetically as he cuts, then lifts, several neat chocolaty squares onto a plate. "From what I understand, there is truly no comparison." He is not saying this from personal knowledge, mind you, or pride. Alfred has never fixed boxed brownies. He simply believes that anything made with love is a very good thing.
With a gentlemanly bow, Alfred offers her the plate.
Reply
Phoebe's ward lives at the Conrad. This means Phoebe spends a lot of time there. She's quick to skip her merry way into the kitchen at the smell of brownies. She makes cookies and even though they're really good she has yet to learn how to make a good brownie.
"ZOMG. Want!"
Phoebe should be a little more eloquent than this, really.
Reply
"I would be very happy to get you a few brownies." And, he will! He is hoping to get, perhaps, a name. Alfred is willing to wait until after a few bites until he gets a full and coherent sentence, however. He knows the power of freshly baked brownies. It can fell even a superhero. Oh yes.
As he neatly cuts the brownies into even squares, he tilts his head at her. "I am Alfred Pennyworth."
Reply
Only she is, Alfred. She really is.
"I'm Phoebe Donovan and hee you have an accent. That is so cool. I love accents. I went around with a French accent for like a whole year until my friend Amanda was all, duh Phoebe, people can totally tell you're not French and then I was all SHUT UP YOU WHORE."
Reply
He is a bit taken back at some of her more...colorful terminology, but she seems to have a very exuberant personality and it is refreshing. "I do have an accent, and thank you very much. I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Donovan, and I believe that the voice you have now is quite lovely. It suits you well."
Yes, dear Phoebe, that was a compliment.
Reply
"I smell something good," he says, poking his head into the kitchen curiously. He pauses when he sees who it is, unsure of how Alfred's going to greet him -- well, unsure if Alfred even knows who he is, too.
"Uh, hi," he adds, giving Alfred a slightly sheepish grin. "--Alfred, right?"
Reply
Smiling politely, Alfred inclines his head. "Alfred Pennyworth. Yes, Sir, Mr. Dent. It is a pleasure to see you once again." To be honest, it is. It is good to see a familiar face, and Mr. Dent had always been very polite and kind to Alfred...before everything went to pieces.
The older man has not, of course, forgotten everything that happened before, but this is a different place and a different time, of sorts. And, Alfred Pennyworth has never been a man to hold a grudge. In his heart, he does not believe his Bruce would ever want that to change. Also, he has a great deal of respect for what Mr. Dent attempted to do in Gotham, and for how dearly he loved Rachel Dawes.
So, it is with genuine friendliness that Alfred gestures toward the brownies. "Shall I fix you a plate, Mr. Dent?"
Reply
Harvey hasn't forgotten, either. But this is a new place, and he's trying to change, but it's slow going.
"Sure. Brownies sound great."
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"I am grateful to find those here who remind me of home, Mr. Dent. It is, I believe, making the transition considerably less jarring." As adaptable as Alfred can be, finding himself in an, for all intents and purposes, entirely new world has been rather difficult.
"May I inquire as to how long you have been here, Sir?" Please, pardon his curiosity. At this moment, he is simply grateful for the conversation and familiar company.
Reply
The young man who's benefited from Alfred's care and sacrifices stands in the kitchen doorway, a faint smile turning his lips. He's wearing one of the suits Alfred has so carefully and lovingly stitched together, this one in charcoal gray in a lightweight but still sumptuous wool.
"Different worlds, different timelines, and I still recognize that smell from my childhood. It amazes me--there are so many differences between universes but some things are still the same no matter where you go, or where you're from."
Reply
He is already plating several brownies for Bruce, and he walks them over to him, inclining his head fondly and with a great deal of respect as he holds out the well-laden plate. "The recipe is still my mother's. I do not expect that would ever change." Alfred pauses for a moment, thinking back to memories of a very young Bruce sitting in the kitchen, waiting until the moment Alfred would tell him the brownies were finally cool enough to eat.
"I was hoping these would remain a favorite of yours, Master Bruce. How are you faring today, Sir?"
Reply
He smiles, taking in the sight of Alfred in his element. One of his elements, anyway--Bruce always marveled, growing up, how it seemed Alfred could to most anything he set his mind to. "I see you've had a productive day, too."
Reply
He smiles pleasantly as he moves about the kitchen, and he stops for a moment to ask if Master Bruce would like something to drink before answering him.
"I have, indeed, Sir. I find there is always something to do, if one only looks to see what is needed." He looks down, smiling, and wonders how many times this Bruce has heard that, or something similar.
Reply
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