[OTA] This Small World

[civilizedpoison]

Slim pickings at the market today, Briony thought as she wandered out of the stalls on the Green and in the general direction of her house in the Club section. Not a surprise, really; it had been that way since the borders locked up. There'd been an initial panicked run on foodstuffs when the news had spread, and since then, they were limited to

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[i_machiavellian]

Heaven knows what Michael was doing wandering around in the Clubs' territory with just-got-out-of-bed hair and morning stubble. Or how he seemed to know his way around. He was rather hoping not to have to explain any of these things when he ran into her.

Now he might be regretting not taking up the offer of staying longer.

He hasn't seen her or the Cleary boy since the diary incident. He hadn't exactly parted on a positive note with Isadore when he bumped into her, either. But she knew, so he assumed that one of them had told her. That at least meant that the diary wouldn't come in conversation.

Right?

"Miss... Williams. Morning."

[civilizedpoison]

Well, she wasn't going to look at him with an expression that was either skeptical or knowing. Her poker face was too good for those sorts of shenanigans.

Of course, neither would it let her betray her distinctly displeased reaction to the latest mini-scandal. It's the first time one's involved the Gaspars and Ardiccionis in some time, after all. She'd just prefer to pretend it didn't exist.

"Mr. Brennan," she said evenly, raising her brow just a tiny bit over the hesitation. Most people hadn't called her Briony Ardiccioni in a long time, so surely he hadn't been about to make that slip.

"You're up early. Getting air?"

[i_machiavellian]

"Yeah." Air. That was one way of putting it. Because there wasn't any air to be had in the Spades' courtyards and he had to come all this way.

He ran a hand through his hair. 'Windswept', he decided, was what he might call it. It was fairly believable on a winter's morning. Besides, he wasn't known for being the most well-groomed of Spades.

"What do you have there?" The contents of her bag which had some leaves sticking out the top was a much less awkward more neutral topic they could settle on.

"Preparing a feast?"

[civilizedpoison]

Take the excuse and run with it, Michael. Briony would only smirk a little bit about it, anyway.

"Carrots, mostly," she said, moving with the subject change mostly. "Some squash. I'm not sure what I'll be able to do with it yet. Winter isn't exactly the most bountiful season." She shrugged with a faint curl to her lips.

"It's more likely to just be soup for dinner than a feast, I'm afraid."

[cutslikeaspade]

Well, one disadvantage of not living in the Castles was that one had to prepare one's own food. But for Ethan, the quiet, the security and the absence of other insane individuals more than made up for having to cook a few times a week. In, haha, spades.

He grinned on the heels of that thought, turning back to the selection of produced offered at the vegetable stalls, his memory pinwheeling back to doing this same thing on the streets of Malta, Florence, Lisbon. Granted, those streets had been a helluva lot busier, but still, good days.

Ethan reached for a wrapped bunch of carrots the same time as a shorter, more female shopper, and he drew back in some surprise with belated recognition.

"--Briony."

[civilizedpoison]

The closest she'd ever come to experiencing greenmarkets in any of those places was fighting for purple asparagus in the cut-throat farmer's markets of Minneapolis, Minnesota. And if anyone doubted that Minneapolis could be cut-throat, they'd never almost come to blows over organic vegetables and locally produced apple cider with Midwestern housewives.

Ethan, one hoped, would be less likely to throw a honeycrisp apple at her head.

"...Ethan," she said, looking up. She'd known him better in Spade days, when his father - his biological one - had been one of her parents' devotees. These days they'd both gone different directions than either of their parents had expected. "Hello. How are you?"

She'd just use the social niceties to hide the fact that she was grabbing that handmade spinach tortellini before anyone else could grab it and make off with the key ingredient in her tortellini alla arrabbiata.

[cutslikeaspade]

And she probably still hated his guts; he got that a lot. But damn what they thought. There was no going back; the past was over and done. He knew his own worth and that was that.

"I'm...all right." Mostly true. "I almost didn't recognize you, it's...been a while."

[civilizedpoison]

Hating people took more energy than Briony liked to expend - except with Athena, but she was a special case. Ethan hadn't killed Medea, after all, nor turned to give Medea's fourteen year old daughter a level sort of look that had Briony packing and running before the week was out.

"I changed my hair," she said dryly, her lips quirking up a little bit. "I decided I was getting way too old and mature to put cherry-colored streaks in my hair. Also, it's a bitch to maintain."

[acethatmatters]

He wasn't there to shop. He left that to people whose job it was. In this case, he had simply been looking in on a couple of Spade vendors who'd thought the borders closing was a good time to raise prices to ridiculous levels, particularly if selling to Cards of other Suits. While, perhaps mentally, Julien could appreciate their sense of capitalism, it really wasn't the sort of thing that would end well in the small closed society of the Deck. So he'd just wandered by to let them know they were still being watched without actually coming out and saying so and picked himself up a coffee on the way.

Crossing paths with Briony was entirely accidental. "A lot for one person, isn't it?"

[civilizedpoison]

"One bag, with carrots, onions, greens and a butternut squash?" Her eyebrows climbed up. "Not really. Two meals, at best." Which she'd stretch out with pantry staples to make seven days, but she wasn't anywhere near buying out the market.

[acethatmatters]

Well, you can see how little he has to do with cooking his own food, Briony. Or, at least, procuring vegetables for his own food.

"Well, you would know, I'm certain."

Being how she presumably cooks for herself rather often. "Not planning on company, then?"

[civilizedpoison]

Shocking. She was so sure that he cooked every single one of his meals.

"Not in particular." She didn't generally have company, for dinner, at least, since Nicholas and his little girlfriend went off-Deck. Taking with them the very faint semblance of sitcom-like normalcy.

There was Pierre, of course, but not the kind of man you cooked dinner for before screwing.

"Are you angling for a dinner invitation, Julien?"

I'm not late. I'm on Joker time. :|

[hamelinic]

You know for whom the pickings are even more slim? Scavengers. Those who live off the kindness of others. Those who require other people to buy things so that they can prod at their shopping and acquire themselves tiny meals.

Cynrics, in so many words.

Which is why, as is only usual, there is exactly 1 (one) Cynric poking at her bag. "...kale? Really?"

Can't touch this. :|

[civilizedpoison]

"...It's January." Do you know what grows in January, Cynric? The answers are: not much, root vegetables, and kale. "I'm not exactly spoiled for choice here. But if all else fails, bacon makes everything better, even the dreaded dark greens of winter."

It was probably going to end up as soup with beans. But also with bacon, so that's something.

[hamelinic]

"Unassentable." So unacceptable, words possibly needed to be made up. That's pretty unacceptable. "I'm going to have to start stealing someone else's food now."

Why would you do this to him, Briony. Why would you make it winter and close the Outside and make kale.

[civilizedpoison]

"Good luck with that. Look at the bounty of kale we have around us." It's bountiful. Also depressing. "But if you must, you must. More for me."

The gauntlet. It has been thrown, Cynric. Will you pick it up and eat someone else's kale?