Magdalene Grace Garcia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
talesuntold) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2018-04-17 04:07 pm
talesuntold) wrote in entranceway2018-04-17 04:07 pm
04 | Video
Good afternoon, my darlings.
That last event was a rough one for a lot of people, and I know some of us are also bracing for what comes next. I'll be in the kitchen for the next four hours, and I'll take requests the whole time I'm there. I think we could all use a little comfort food, or some distraction.
Requests don't necessarily have to be culinary in nature. I'd be delighted to improvise a poem or tell you a story. An off-the-cuff Scheherazade, with bonus cookies.
Come keep me company for awhile.
[Of course, certain people don't have a choice in the matter. She has conchas baking for Seth, cookies for Wirt, all her teammates' favorites, and so on. Friends and acquaintances who fail to show up may well find Maggie at their doors afterward with a plate in hand.
Even a few people who might not expect it, if she's ever had reason to worry about them.
Maggie is going to start climbing the walls if she doesn't find meaningful ways to fill up her days here. This takes care of one day.]
That last event was a rough one for a lot of people, and I know some of us are also bracing for what comes next. I'll be in the kitchen for the next four hours, and I'll take requests the whole time I'm there. I think we could all use a little comfort food, or some distraction.
Requests don't necessarily have to be culinary in nature. I'd be delighted to improvise a poem or tell you a story. An off-the-cuff Scheherazade, with bonus cookies.
Come keep me company for awhile.
[Of course, certain people don't have a choice in the matter. She has conchas baking for Seth, cookies for Wirt, all her teammates' favorites, and so on. Friends and acquaintances who fail to show up may well find Maggie at their doors afterward with a plate in hand.
Even a few people who might not expect it, if she's ever had reason to worry about them.
Maggie is going to start climbing the walls if she doesn't find meaningful ways to fill up her days here. This takes care of one day.]
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"Not like I got a lot of plans here," he admits, not looking the least bit upset as he moves and leans back against the counter. "Though I'm considering asking the closet for some safes. Richie was our cracker, so it might do me some good to practice."
He needs to do something to try and keep himself busy and content in this place. Something that he hasn't worked on that left him in the darkness that had taken control of him.
He watches her for a few minutes, falling silent though his gaze is intense. "Can I ask you a question? About the Kimberlee virus thing?"
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"The difference between knowing how to handle people in passing, and seeing the same ones day in and day out," Maggie agrees, nodding. "It's a significant adjustment, and no surprise if you've struggled with it."
Maggie isn't going to criticize his choice in activities. "Everyone needs a hobby." She's going crazy without enough of them, after all.
He does startle a soft laugh out of her with his take on the virus name. "Kellis Amberlee, and yes, of course. Ask away."
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"It's better than me blowing up the maze," he points out, figure that is truly the truth.
He smirks then, nodding. "Right. Kellis Amberlee. I've never asked, but is it like the guy I talked to about the world we were in a while back, with the zombies? I mean, does everyone have it? You're so careful about passing it here, and some people have different traits that you don't..." He's not asking directly about George, though it's part of what has him thinking about it. "Not where did it start and all, because I've heard some of that, but not everyone has it, do they?"
She seems to worry more than others, and he can't help but wonder. "You don't have to answer any of this either. I'm just a nosy bastard."
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"Don't worry about asking. I'm an open book, at least when it comes to you." Mostly open. She isn't telling him why she's flung herself so hard into cooking today, but she might, if the conversation circles that way or she finds herself desperately in need of a hug.
"The entire world is infected, yes. Georgia, Becks, and Shaun are just as likely to pass on the disease as I am, but I handle more people's food than they do. The virus spreads through fluid contact. Touching me is safe enough, but if I were to touch my mouth and then touch your bread... you won't turn into a zombie, but there's a small chance you'd gain the potential to." Which she'd like to avoid, thanks very much. Maggie dumps chocolate chips into the cookie dough she's in the middle of measuring out.
"Blood is the most dangerous thing, since that sometimes skips over the unamplified version of the virus and makes you the walking dead right off the bat. I need to be a lot more careful about food safety here than I did back home. There, no one was at risk unless I cut myself while I was preparing ingredients, because we were all infected already. The procedure, by the way, if I ever do cut myself while cooking, is to incinerate the food and bleach the cutting board."
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He just shakes his head after a moment.
"Naw. It's you. First thing I'm going to do is make sure you're okay. Then I'll worry about fires and bleach."
And he's not just talking in the kitchen. This is Wonderland, after all. A place that heard that everything in Australia is designed to kill you and said, 'Here, hold my beer and watch this.'
"And don't give me a look about that either. I don't give a shit about a lot of people but when I do, I do dumb ass stupid shit for them."
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"You turn yourself into a zombie making sure I'm okay, you could turn me too, even if I'm the one who gave you the virus in the first place." Maggie points out logically, even if she likes hearing a flat-out admission that he cares. "And if you get my blood on you, you clean up with bleach before you touch anybody besides me. Get yourself locked up or have someone ready with a bullet the second you feel any loss of coordination or cognitive function. "
Her voice goes from no-nonsense to something very small as she says, "Buffy didn't remember her own name by the time Georgia shot her."
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Which he knows is likely not helpful, not in the least, but that doesn't change how he feels about it. He wouldn't risk himself for many, but Maggie is one of the few exceptions.
"I'm always armed, Maggie. If I start to feel that way, I can take care of it myself."
He nods though at that, not realizing that had happened to Buffy. "I won't leave you to be hurt and alone, Maggie, but I can do what I have to. For you."
Which he is not one to die. Doesn't want to die. Doesn't want to become undead even. Yet he would right now. For two people in his life. At least two people who are in Wonderland.
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Maggie pauses in what she's doing, hands braced on the edge of the counter, her body set in tense lines.
"Could we have this conversation literally any other day, Seth?" There's a tiny hint of false cheer in her voice, of the variety that Maggie rarely puts on unless she's seriously angry or upset. But she isn't really angry at Seth, and he's important enough to her that she drops the front almost immediately.
Quietly, her voice tight, she adds, "Today is the anniversary of Buffy's death, and that's more than hard enough without spending it calmly discussing the prospect of somebody else I care about getting himself killed."
The second anniversary Maggie's lived through, but last year's fell so close on the heels of Dave's death, and in the middle of a messy conspiracy. She didn't have much time or energy for dwelling.
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Even as he asks, he moves closer, not caring about if she's contagious, or what could happen to him. Caring about her. He isn't good with showing emotions, but he's learning and it shows as he slides his hand along her shoulders, trying to urge her subtlety to turn away and towards him.
"Come here."
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Maggie doesn't need much urging. She's the least touch-averse person she knows, having grown up in circles where security was tight enough that even being touched by strangers was generally completely safe. Maggie gets lonely easily, and she craves physical contact as much as she does company.
She turns toward Seth, wrapping her arms around him and clinging, chin resting on his shoulder. Unless he pulls away, Maggie isn't letting go anytime soon.
"I didn't actually intend to spend the day grieving. I just couldn't stand the thought of sitting still or being alone." Hence the cooking spree.
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Normally he is the one looking for sexual and intimacy and moving on, but he'd changed enough in Wonderland that this is about Maggie. Not thinking about how she could hurt him. Not thinking about how, in the end, he's probably the worst person for her. Just wanting to offer her what comfort he could in that moment.
"Well, you're not. You've got food," he says with a chuckle, trying to make enough of a joke to make her smile. "And you've got me. Okay?"
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"Okay." She manages a very slight smile, although her breath is shaky in a way she'd try harder to hide around anyone else. Maggie's hold on Seth tightens a little, then she loosens her grip enough that he can decide when to move away. She keeps leaning on him in the meantime. Seth's instincts were exactly right. There aren't many things Maggie finds more comforting than somebody holding onto her.
"I don't suppose you're in the mood for a movie marathon tonight? I doubt I'll sleep much."
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"You know something, that is exactly what I need tonight. I'll even take viewing suggestions."