Otto Octavius (
sciencesquid) wrote2023-03-15 01:30 pm
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NORMAN....
"Well, just in case, I think you'd better sample some of these pancakes too."
WHAAAAAAT? 😇
"Only since you insist. If they're any good I might have to make more. ... But not too much, you need to save room for dinner later tonight."
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"Oh? Do we have any plans for dinner?"
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"As a matter of fact, we do. I didn't want to plan anything else in case you and Peter were going out, but I made us a reservation for eight."
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"Is that so? It's a good thing I didn't make any dinner plans of my own, then. I'll happily submit myself to whatever fine dining you believe to be most fitting for the occasion."
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"Good, I'm glad."
Norman settles back against the headboard, glancing around the room. In part, he's looking to see if Otto has changed anything now that he has the space to himself, but mostly he's avoiding staring at him while he eats.
"Do you want to know where we're going now, or should I keep it a surprise?"
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"A surprise, I should think. Curious as I am, the occasion only comes around once a year."
With that, he finally lowers the knife and brings the first slice of pancake up to his mouth. Did Norman do good?
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"A surprise it is, then," Norman agrees warmly, his gaze lingering on that box of scraps.
"What's all that?" He asks curiously. "You making something?"
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"Ah, no. It's a bit embarrassing, actually," he admits, smiling sheepishly. "When I was still a merperson, I kept pocketing things that caught my eye without really thinking about it. Rocks, coins, bits of metal... Nothing that belonged to someone else, of course. I didn't steal anything. It's all just junk. ... But now I don't want to part with it anymore."
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Inspiration strikes, and he tilts his head at Otto, waiting until he doesn't have his mouth full and can answer.
"You could make something out of it. Weld the metal, maybe melt down the coins ..."
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Somehow, the sentiment doesn't sit well with him. Maybe, if he were still a merperson, it might've alarmed him and some of those instincts are lingering. He didn't mind other people touching his 'things', but it'd be another story if something had ever been stolen or broken. He's not a merperson anymore, though. There's no reason to be odd about this.
"... I suppose so. Though, I don't know what I'd make with it. They aren't exactly the sorts of metal that go well together."
He is, of course, thinking purely of creating something practical with these supplies. Art? What is that?
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He shrugs it off for now, deciding to let it go until he's had some more time to process the thought. "How're the pancakes?"
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"They're wonderful," he says in all earnesty, before sticking his fork in one of the slices and holding it out towards Norman. "Here, try some."
Nor for the flavor, but because he wants Norman to eat something. If Otto has something to say about it, then by the time they're done, a good one third of those pancakes will have been diverted Norman's way.
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"When we're finished here, I have something in town I want to show you."
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"In town?" He's not sure what to make of that. If they're not going out to dinner 'till eight, what's happening in town before then? He knows Norman probably won't spoil it, but that just makes him even more curious.
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"I've been saving up to get some workspace in the city for a while now, and, ah ... well, it's ... not quite what I'd envisioned, but I'd still love for you to be the first one to see it."
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"I'm flattered, Norman. And I'd love to see it."
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"Here, I'll take care of this while you get ready to go. I'll meet you upstairs in the lobby, honey?"
The bon mot is out of his mouth before he can help it, and he blushes.
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He's not opposed to it, he thinks. In fact, he likes it. So he swallows down his apprehension and returns the gesture.
"... I'll see you there, honey."
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They're at nicknames now, he thinks, feeling a giddy sort of rush as he makes his way up to the kitchen. Things are going so much better than he'd even dared to hope for. He had thought they would crawl along awkwardly for months ... but maybe they both realized in some way that life was too short, even in a place where death didn't mean what it used to. That happiness was too important, a rare commodity when your existence depended on horrible things - both doing them and surviving them. He gives the dishes a quick rinse so the syrup won't solidify into impossible, resinous goop later, washes his hands, then grabs his sweatshirt from by the door, checking its pockets. Keys, coin purse: both there. He's still getting used to the latter - no credit cards or folding money has turned out to have an interesting learning curve.
Nevertheless, by the time Otto makes his way upstairs, Norman's ready to go, and waggles the keys - and his eyebrows - with a grin. "Wait until you see what I got Chiaki's friend to rig up for us - not for your birthday, just for -" He hesitates just long enough to realize he shouldn't be hesitating at all. "The family."
Outside is a cream and blue small bus, the two front seats modified so that they only have half-height backs. There's one less bench seat than normal in the back to allow more room for monstrous passengers, but it's still large enough that most of Hill House can pile in.