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Robin was quiet for a moment, pensive in her silence, only broken by the *ding!* of the oven. (Must be some spacer tech thing that bakes pies faster. The future is bright, huh?)

“Oh. I understand that well,” she said quietly as she busied herself with preparing the pie for consumption. “We all possess a certain strength that can sometimes hurt other people if we’re not careful.”

She stared at one of her hands for just a moment too long before springing back into passing Nel a slice of pie.

“Here you are, mister.”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

If she could kitty face, she probably would.

:3c

“I thought so~.” She beeped, self-indulgent in her own ability to read people.

“... Does anything worry you about your relationship?” she asked, good natured but undoubtedly curious. “... If you don’t mind my asking, of course. Something seems to be on your mind about him -- I’ve seen it a dozen times before, and it’s nice to be able to talk it out.”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

“A friend, hmm? Tell me about them,” Robin said, sitting across from Nel and resting her chin in the palm of a hand. She idly kicked her legs slightly, swinging them.

Though she didn’t respond to it, a certain glow in her eyes suggested that she did indeed pick up on that she was good company!

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

“Oh! Well! It wasn’t anything, really,” she replied bashfully, plainly unused to being complimented much.

“What are you, um... are you looking forward to anything in the next couple of days?” Yes. A perfect change of subject!

“Any big plans? I’m sure you’ve probably done it all by this point, but. You know.”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

The pie securely in the oven by the time the sweetness rolled over her, her hands were free enough that she could cover her face as if blushing. “Well aren’t you just the gentleman??” she beeped, bouncing in place a little.

“I’ll have you know that I buy the cherries, but I do make the filling myself. So, in a way, you are correct. They are sweet because of me. Aren’t you, um.”

Robin’s eyes fell on the kitchen knife she was using to cut the dough.

“Sharp!”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

Robin shuddered as well. “Cheese?! Yucky! As the angel of good taste, I have to put a pin on that one.”

She withdrew a big jar of pie-ready cherry filling from the near industrial sized fridge, labelled in swirly marker with “SWEET”.

“I’m glad Missus Crocker has been so kind as to help guide your hand! Truly, her spirit fills this kitchen.” She beeped again, clearly quite tickled.

The preheating oven beeped as she arranged the lattice on the pie, causing her to gently scold its impatience with a “tut tut” as she prepared to bake the desert. “Won’t be long now. Hopefully you don’t have anywhere to go -- though if you do, I could probably arrange for delivery.”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

“Pretty much. I figure it’s at least edible: most people just say “it’s good” when I ask them.”

Robin moves to and fro about the kitchen space as she prepares a homemade crust to line the pan, a perpetual motion machine.

“Cherry’s a good choice,” she comments idly as she works. “I always felt like it’s one of the more versatile pies - it can go with all sorts of things, you know? Apple is close. Not that any of them are bad, usually you just have to be more in the mood for them. But maybe I’m just channeling the spirit of Betty Crocker here.

Anyway, do you prefer tart or sweet cherries?”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

“I understand! I don’t eat, for, um, obvious reasons, so all my skill comes from cooking for others.”

She eyed the pie tin. “I think I have something in mind! Do you have a pie preference, perhaps?”

Robin paused for a moment, then chirped, mostly to herself, “Try saying that three times fast! Pie preference perhaps.”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

[[ subject(s): Nel, Robin; location: nebulous space ]]

“I’m glad I could help!” she exclaimed, beeping to express her joy in lieu of a physical smile. “Maybe it’ll be nicer for you to cook now that you won’t hurt yourself, too.”

Robin removed the pie tin from the rack and started getting everything back in order.

“While you’re here, do you want me to make you anything?”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

[[ subject(s): Nel, Robin; location: nebulous space ]]

“So most ovens allow you to pull the racks out from the actual oven space,” she explained while on the move.

“So when you’re going to get your food, you don’t even have to clear the top rack or the top of the oven -- which I’ve admittedly burned myself on too.” She demonstrated the maneuver on the oven, using an empty pie tin as a reference.

“Usually I’ll grab the bottom of the rack that the food is on and pull it out that way. I’d imagine, um, it might be good if you crouched some. I’m sort of small, especially compared to you.” She emitted an electronic chirp as way of a giggle. “I imagine the angle and stuff from being really tall and having to reach down probably gets you to burn your hand too.”

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

[[ subject(s): Nel, Robin; location: nebulous space ]]

“What part do you burn yourself on?” The somewhat diminutive android asked, tilting her head slightly in concern. “I find that it’s helpful to pull the rack first. Do you want me to show you?”

She gestured for the vampire to follow her to the kitchen area.

#{sad machine}:robin #nel #thenocturnalcourt

[[ subject(s): Calypso, Valkyrie; location: illegal zeppelin ]]

“Speak for yourself, burn ward,” she shot back with a huff, spinning the spray bottle on one finger.

“I’ll have ya know that I’m only part unholy and completely here to pay punks like you back for what you do to the Earths. Unfortunately your boss prevents me from blowing your sorry hide up on the spot, so mildly inconveniencing you for the rest of your existence here will have to do.”

Rapidly holstering her water bottle with one fluid motion, she grins toothily and places her hands on her hips.

“Any more questions?”

#{let's rock}:valkyrie #calypso #thenocturnalcourt

[[ subject(s): Calypso, Valkyrie; location: illegal zeppelin ]]

Immediately, Calypso was looking down the barrel of a spray bottle with a little flower on the side. Holding it was a red-skinned woman with curved horns, yellow eyes, and light body armor - some sort of vigilante half-demon who apparently has too much time on her hands.

Immediately, Calypso received several squirts of water to the face.

“Nothing personal. Just, you know. Los Angeles, among others. Stop that actually,” she said sternly, tutting.

#{let's rock}:valkyrie #calypso #thenocturnalcourt

[[ subject: @cosmicclownery. location: The Midnight Song ]]

“Deacon sounds like a troublemaker,” Willow stated matter of factly, making a pensive face. “But I guess it’s okay as long as nobody gets hurt.” A moment later, the android slid a pair of salads and lemonades in front of the two. “Anything else for you guys?” she chirped, notepad in hand.

Willow shook her head but looked to Corona inquisitively. “I’m buying if you want ice cream or anything.”

#{happy hour}:ic #cosmicclownery

[[ subject: @cosmicclownery. location: The Midnight Song ]]

The dryad nodded. “Jackal likes it like that - something about keeping it ‘rustic’ or something? The idea that it’s classy but not over the top, I think.”

They sat down with a cheek cupped in one hand and absently traced meaningless patterns on the surface of the table with the other. “It’s nice here, but I never felt like I really belonged. I’d rather be travelling and seeing all the wonders of the big wide universe. Like you.” They looked up and smiled with the innocence of naivety. “I bet you have a lot of stories.”

#{happy hour}:ic #cosmicclownery

[[ subject: @cosmicclownery. location: The Midnight Song ]]

In a blink of an eye (or two), the pair found themselves at the Midnight Song in a city of perpetual twilight.

It’s a fine little establishment bearing a color palette of reds, blacks, and golds, clean and well put together without being obnoxious. Gentle golden lights shine from beyond its windows and fill the street as the dryad holds the door open for their newfound friend.

The gentle ting of a bell above the door heralds their arrival, causing the bartenders, an android and an anubite.

“Afternoon, Willow. Who’s the, uh, performer?” Jackal asks.

“They’re my friend. Two salads and lemonades, please,” they respond simply, taking a seat at a cozy back booth with an overhead light. “- and whatever else they want.”

Jackal grunted as Robin busied herself with preparing the meals in the back.

#cosmicclownery #{happy hour}:IC #corona

[[ subject: @cosmicclownery. location: unknown circus ]]

“Awesome,” she beams. “I don’t know if you want to get ready or anything -- the, uh. What you’ve got on is fine!”

They fake a cough to hide their embarrassment at their own question despite being completely unable to have an upper respiratory infection, and shift from foot to foot.

“They serve pretty basic stuff: salads and sandwiches and stuff,” she says, changing subject and starting to walk. “I-- Are you vegetarian? There’s a garden salad that’s really good. Robin makes killer lemonade too.”

#cosmicclownery #{happy hour}:ic #corona

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