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[piemakerprince]

One could say that if there were any one place on the island the pie maker belonged, it was the kitchen. And, if there were any one time he belonged there more than any other, it was the day before Thanksgiving

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[wishesandsmoke]

Regardless of the object of its aim, the question was heard by at least one of the room's other occupants. Eden McCain had come in to get a cup of tea, and was patiently awaiting the hot water she needed for it when the piemaker spoke. "Three pies for what?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at him. It took her a moment to realize the question had been directed at the dog under the table. "Oh, sorry."

[piemakerprince]

The pie maker could hardly hold the mistake against her; not everyone had the sort of kinship he and Digby did. Not everyone had the same dog for over twenty years, either.

"For Thanksgiving," he explained, leaning against the table. Baking always put Ned in a mood that would, in any other person, be amiable. "Not that it's enough for everyone, but I can't use up all the baking supplies."

If this were the Pie Hole, he would have been able to bake to his heart's content. Or not.

[wishesandsmoke]

"Three's a lot of pie," Eden said, turning to lean against the counter, the better to face him. It depended, of course, on how many people it was for, but she doubted any of the various gatherings on the island would be that big. It was just lucky that none of them were at all relying on her to provide any food. "I'm sure it'll be enough. More importantly, your dog seems to think so." She grinned, nodding to the dog lying under the table. "It smells amazing."

[piemakerprince]

"I've come to rely on Digby's opinion over the years," Ned admitted, and he smiled at the compliment. "Thank you." There was very rarely a time when a nice word about his pies failed to cheer Ned up even the slightest bit.

There was was a reason he'd opened the Pie Hole, after all - he could have stayed at home and become some crazed shut in, known to his neighbors only as That Crazy Guy Who Makes Pies.

It had never been a very nice alternative when he imagined the varying ways his life could have gone.

[fey_lawyer]

Mia was on her way past the man to the fridge when he spoke, and she stopped to blink at him.

"N-no, thank you, I really don't think I could- oh," she realized. "You're talking to your dog." (Now I feel stupid.) "Those...do look like lovely pies, however," she added.

[piemakerprince]

Ned gave the woman a smile that was half apology, half 'no, I'm not crazy and I do have other human friends. Really.' It was just that Digby could, possibly, be at the very top of Ned's list of closest friends.

"Thank you," he managed, then went on to explain, even if it wasn't warranted, "I was just wondering if three pies was enough to make. Digby agreed."

[fey_lawyer]

"One can always do with more pies," Mia agreed solemnly. She glanced at the dog - Digby, apparently - and wondered if it might be a good idea to get Phoenix a puppy. She wouldn't know where to get one, though there were bound to be litters, what with the amount of them on the island.

[piemakerprince]

"It's better to have a surplus than a shortage," Ned agreed. There was, surprisingly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Pie shortage is a scary thing to witness. People get extremely cranky, it isn't pleasant."

[polly_okeefe]

I'm used to seeing people cooking in the kitchen. Other than the organized mayhem for breakfast and dinner, there seems to be an anarchic system of people cook when they can find space. Which is fine, as long as no fights break out and people keep the place relatively clean. Which they do. Relatively. I'm used to slipping in and out, cleaning up the dishes, helping when asked, checking out people's creations.

But the smell of pies this time stops me in my tracks. I stand, close my eyes, and breathe deep. "Mmm! Apple pie!" I opened my eyes and looked at the young chef by the counter, who was busy making another. "That smells wonderful!"

[piemakerprince]

Now that was the sort of compliment that, no matter what sort of mood the pie maker was in, could bolster his spirits when they needed bolstering. This wasn't one of those times, but it was a good thing to hear, nonetheless.

He turned slightly from where he was beginning to clean up the counter, and gave the girl a slightly pleased look. There may have almost been a smile. "Thank you."

[polly_okeefe]

I came forward to see the artist at work, for clearly he was. "Are these for anybody special?" I asked.

[piemakerprince]

"The one in the oven is for a friend's dinner tomorrow," Ned replied. He nodded over at two other pies on a cooling rack as he walked back to the sink to rinse out the small dishtowel he was currently using. "Those are for...well, anyone."

Ned had spent so many years with the Pie Hole that making a single pie and not sharing (even if there would be no payment for them here) felt wrong.

[misformutant]

"Do you often talk to yourself?" Monet asked dryly walking through the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge. The smell of pies had been originally what had drawn her from her room and after trying to ignore it for the better part of an hour she'd finally given in.

Monet saw movement from the corner of her eye and glanced beneath the table as she reached for the juice. "Nevermind. So is it just dogs you talk to or do you talk to the whole animal kingdom?"

[piemakerprince]

"Just my dog," Ned replied evenly. There was nothing wrong with talking to your lifelong companion, especially when said companion literally had been there most of your life.

[misformutant]

"Just your dog, I see. Does he ever talk back?" Monet asked with a hint of a smile on her lips. It was a real question, she'd already met one insane cook in the kitchen who had repeatedly told her that her dog talked. Monet might have believed the girl if she hadn't been reading upside down at the time.

Pouring herself a drink, she sat up on an available counter space and sipped at her drink. Glancing at the pies, she raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the deal with the pies? Stress baking or holiday baking?"

[piemakerprince]

"No," Ned replied, and the look he gave the woman was matched by Digby, who'd roused from his way into a comfortable slumber to see who was asking questions about him.

Of course Digby couldn't talk. He and Ned had an understanding.

He frowned slightly at her next question. If the pie maker had been stress baking, there wouldn't have been room for anyone else, let alone space to make more pies. "Holiday baking, for tomorrow."

[un_gloved]

Rogue was effectively rocking out the oversized white-plastic movie star sunglasses the clothes box had coughed up along with her new pair of yoga pants. At least the glasses didn't have a day-glo dolphin on the butt. She grinned a bit when she spotted the only person that tall and lanky in creation, and with her usual thoughtless athleticism sauntered just past him to push herself up to sit on the counter, with zero regard for his personal space, which she then exacerbated by sneaking her toes along the outside of his knee.

"Now just what in the heck are you up to?"

[piemakerprince]

Now, Ned was never the sort of person who understood why women did what they did, or why anyone did what they did. He was a creature of habit who kept mostly to himself, and preferred that others keep to themselves as well.

Having a woman he didn't recognize come up to him, sit on the counter and do - do things to his leg he was only ever comfortable having Chuck do was way past any boundaries he may or may not have set.

Ned twitched away from the woman, moving to put a full foot (no pun intended) of space between them. He gave her a confused look. "I'm...baking a pie, what was-" he gestured vaguely at her legs, "do you normally do that to people you don't know?"

[un_gloved]

She stopped. In general. Her expression twitched toward the dangerously unamused side of wary.

"Say what," she said flatly, pushing her sunglasses up- and then giving a startled jolt, herself. His hair was definitely not green.

"Oh!" she yelped. "Oh- Mah gosh, Ah'm sorry, Ah thought- Oh," she said again, staring now. They were identical, nearly. Height, build, features, but their posture was totally different, and the.... coloring was off.

For starters, this guy's eyes were the same shade.

"...Oh my word, you look- I'm sorry you look exactly like-" and her mouth ran ahead of her brain partly to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible and partly to make her not look like a slut, "-my boyfriend."

Then her brain caught up and caused her to pull a sort of doubletake at herself. Oops.

[piemakerprince]

Ned's eyebrows rose when she realized what she'd been doing. And he thought he got flustered.

When he understood just who she was talking about, his look became a little less shocked and a lot more unimpressed. Not that it was either of their fault for looking alike, but generally, Ned liked to think not having giant green hair was a dead giveaway.

Then, his mouth dropped, and he spoke before he realized what he was saying. "He has a girlfriend?"

His mouth clamped shut when he remembered he was talking to said girlfriend.