[Party post! The whole point of this thread is for all of the Kashtta residents (both new and old) to meet each other, so thread-hop to your heart's content!]
Starting at around 2:00 pm, Mio has been hard at work in the Kashtta kitchen, getting ready for the welcoming dinner that will be held later tonight. Sure, she could have just gone out and
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He steps into the kitchen not too terribly long after Mio has begun, and smiles at the progress she has already made. It seems that she has things quite in hand, truly.
He will still offer a hand, as it is not only polite to do so...but it is also something he genuinely enjoys doing. Bowing his head just slightly, he waits until she looks up so as not to interrupt any particular movement or thought. "Things seem to be coming along beautifully," he says sincerely. "Might I assist you in some way?"
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Mio finishes slicing the ends off of the green beans she'd bought from the farmers market and dumps them in a pot to cook. Now that she's done with that, she's got a few seconds to breathe. "I don't think we've met before," Mio says. "I'm Mio Hongo. I'm a member of Torchwood. Thank you again for your help."
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Immediately, Alfred goes over to the potatoes and begins to peel and quarter them. He does the work easily and swiftly, not wasting a movement, and he's moving through the potatoes rather efficiently.
At the introduction, Alfred nods, smiling warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hongo. I am Alfred Pennyworth." The potatoes are moving along quickly, nearly done now.
"I believe it is I who should thank you. I'm very grateful for everything you all have done, for all those who needed the help so badly."
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A timer dings. Mio takes note of which one it was. Second one from the left--that would be the pasta, then. Mio takes the pot off the stove and drains the pasta into a colander in the sink.
"I'm very bad at sitting around doing nothing," Mio explains. "So when the opportunity arose for me to join Torchwood, I accepted. It's a pleasure to help out the Wanderers of the city."
Mio glances over to check Alfred's progress. "When those are done, you can put them in a pot to cook. Pots and pans are in the cabinet on your lower left. Those are for mashed potatoes, so cook them until they're a little soft."
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No need to worry about leftovers, Mio. Dean's got it covered.
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Spotting him, she decides to stroll over. He's one of the few things about this place that's familiar. "Fancy seein' you here."
Her plate might...rival Dean's. Jo doesn't usually eat this much, honest. She blames the dog inside of her.
... That sounds totally wrong.
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"It's shocking, I know," Dean agrees with mock seriousness, after actually chewing and swallowing before talking.
He's doubly glad when he takes a look at Jo and notices she seems to have piled at least as much as Dean has on her plate. He grins. "Looks like you've got quite an appetite there, Jo."
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At least he knows, and if there is a shift (and she's knocking on wood that there won't be) he'll know what to do.
"There's a lot of food and it's only polite." Jo sits down at the nearest table, before eying the desserts. She gets back up and returns with a piece of blueberry pie.
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As of right now, Phoebe's dancing around in circles, placing flower center pieces on each and every table. She hopes Mio won't mind. Flowers just make things prettier!
Of course, she's dancing to the song she's singing. Nothing like I Can't Get No Satisfaction to put everyone in a good mood.
Or so Phoebe thinks.
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"You're certainly in a good mood," Mio comments.
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"I always try to be!" is the chipper answer. Phoebe turns around, offering Mio a yellow daisy and a bright smile. "Are you the one in charge of all of this?"
She motions to the food and the tables. "Because it's amazing."
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Mio is quite pleased when Phoebe calls her work amazing. She did put quite a bit of effort into it, so she's glad that people are appreciating it. "Well, I do try my best," she demurs.
"I'm Mio Hongo, and I work for Torchwood," Mio introduces herself. "Are you one of the new residents?"
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The four plates surrounded him, stacked with food?
All Wesley's.
Mio, there will definitely be no leftovers.
He's starting to think maybe living here won't be so bad. The people that live there alone would have made it worth it, but all this delicious food?
Yeah, he's sold.
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Rogue's here, too.
She's grinning and tilting her head to the side as she looks at the absurd amount of food surrounding the man. It doesn't surprise her in the least.
The gal is smart enough to grab her own plate before she sits down across from him, and then she's tilting her head to the other side. Any bit of tiredness she feels washes away and she smiles brightly at him.
"You look like you just found your own lil' slice of happiness, sugar." That smile lingers for a moment before she takes a bite of something-or-other, and then she's crossing her eyes a bit. It's very good, Mio.
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Particularly today, since he skipped lunch. Wes mostly spent the whole of the evening at the bike shop working on the engines.
It's soothing to him and lately, that's what he'd been needing.
"I reckon I did." He grins up at her. "I'm thinkin' they're making up for the spook factor with the real good food."
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She'd be interested to hear any and all things concerning the bike shop and/or engines, of course. Always. But, she's not gonna bring it up. At least, not right now.
There's a grin shot back at Wes and she nods. Turning slightly in her chair, she lifts it up with her and twists it around so she can sit sideways and still look at Wes.
Weird-ass woman.
"They have ice cream, too," she says in a hushed voice, like she's sharing a secret. "And pie." She holds up a hand, her eyes sliding closed, and it almost looks like she's reciting something important.
"I swear," she whispers, "if there is pecan?" One eye opens and the serious look on her face shifts into amusement and appreciation. "I will sing. A happy song. Of joy and wonder and everything that's great."
She likes her pecan pie, Wes.
And then, she's laughing and shaking her head. "Tell me somethin' that makes you smile?" Keep smiling, she means, but so long as the smile is there, she'll be pleased.
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She sits at one of the tables in the far back, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone familiar.
She did not serve herself a whole lot of food. She's actually kind of tired. Chasing squirrels is hard business.
Also, Rachel is making the narration state there is no cat fur in Bruce's room. Bruce is a liar that lies.
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Bruce is hoping to catch a glimpse of someone familiar, as well. As long as he's here, he wants to be sure he sees the people he cares to see.
Before he walks over to her, he stops and gets her something to drink and an additional glass of ice water.
When he stops at her table, he's grinning already, though it's quite possibly sneaky. He places her drinks down and sits down beside her, reaching out to snag something from her plate.
He has no idea what he's grabbed or if he'll like it. It's hers, however, and so he wants it. "You found me," he says thoughtfully. Obviously, Rachel, you (sitting at the table) found him (that was walking around looking for you).
Obviously.
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She sees Bruce approach, and her eyes narrow in alert because that grin? Never means a good thing. Bruce does not grin because he is amused. Bruce grins to either a) play an audience, or b) alert to the fact he's got something up his sleeve.
Considering how much ammunition he's acquired over the past few days, Rachel doesn't think she's being paranoid to wonder.
"No, you found me." She attempts to swat his hand away but he's always had quick reflexes.
"And my pasta. In my plate."
Yes, she's throwing his words back. From forever ago.
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Bruce --
Has something up his sleeve.
Not literally, of course, but there is indeed something he has stewing in his mind.
Surprisingly, it has nothing to do with any of the potential ammunition he's gathered.
He pops a piece of pasta in his mouth and chews. "Finders keepers," he says quietly, his eyebrows lifting in an utterly sweet and charming look.
Bruce already knows it won't work, but he puts himself into it because it's fun. It's fun and shockingly easy to be like this with her, and it's very much like time stands still... Or does it move back? Or forward? He's not entirely sure, but that's not really what matters right now.
What matters is the simpler things, and he can concentrate on them.
He snags another piece of pasta. "You should eat more," he says, gleefully oblivious to the fact that everything he eats, she obviously cannot. "Alfred would be happy ( ... )
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