entranceway | o8 | what more am I owed than certain death

[Annie appears onscreen, looking anything but her chipper self. Seems that's more and more common, these days, especially after things like disgusting zombies. She'd kept her own and managed to make it to the farmhouse on the second day, and stayed there for the remainder of the event, helping people who managed to get there as well. It wasn't until the event was over that she realized that they were well into fall, and that Christmas must be coming up soon, and if Christmas is coming, that means Hanukkah's here, or...that it already passed.

And, okay, yeah, she doesn't have like, the best relationship with her parents anymore, but it's still a special holiday for her! And she could've had a sweet little ceremony each night and lit the candles and made matzoh ball soup in the kitchen and shared it!! But no, instead she was killing zombies and hiding in a farmhouse. Seriously.

So, she can be found in the diner, her crafting supplies spread out in front of her in a booth in the back. Currently, she's pouring glitter over a set of folded up pieces of paper-- Christmas cards. She missed one holiday, she's not going to miss another.]

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[Annie busies herself making more cards in his absence, and by the time he returns and plops the plate in front of her, she's nearly forgotten that she asked him to in the first place. She blinks and then smiles, looking up at John.

And yeah, it's super cute how eager he looks, but she can just keep that to herself.]

Guess I'll just have to see, [she says with a grin, moving her cards to the side to pick up a fork. It hovers over the plate for a moment before she dives in, cutting a piece off and bringing it up to her mouth.

She can admit it; she's a little nervous. It's been a long time since she's had really good latkes-- it's the one thing she can't seem to recreate in the kitchen or closets-- and she also doesn't want to let John down. Not when they're just starting to be less weird.

Thankfully, none of that will be a problem.]

Oh my god.

[She doesn't mean to talk with her mouth full, okay? She brings her hand to cover as she chews and swallows, looking up to John with wide eyes.]

Where did you even learn to cook like that?

[He's particularly pleased in a way Blake doesn't often show, but as he watches her, there's an undeniable joy at seeing the look on her face. He doesn't even bother to ask, just gestures in such a way to suggest he'd like to try some, too.]

Like that? Dunno, just time I guess. Practice. They're good, then?

[It's obvious they are, but every once in a while he doesn't mind his feathers stroked, especially about cooking (a somewhat guilty pleasure considering he lived alone for so long and often indulged himself for that fact alone).]

[She nods, handing the fork over-- and taking only a brief second to freak out over the fact that he wants to share her fork, oh my god-- and sighing.]

So good. Much better than I could ever make myself.

[She pauses, laughing.]

Maybe I'll just use up all of the coupons on plates of latkes.

[Yeah, oh yeah, they're sharing a fork. It's not a big deal, right? I mean, it's not like they're kissing or anything like that.

Blake's silent as he takes a bite. When he chews, it's politely, with that fork still hovering near his mouth. He nods slowly and his eyes slide closed at the mix of flavors.]

Mm. Yeah, wouldn't mind makin' these more often. Don't gotta even worry 'bout the coupons. Make 'em any time you want, just gotta say.

[If nothing else, Blake's always trying to feed a person, much like an ancient grandma. He offers the fork back to Edison and then wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. Classy.]

[She laughs, because it's a sweet offer, though she doesn't take it too seriously. In a place like this, you can't take much seriously, you know?]

I'll be sure to remember that.

[She grabs the booklet then and puts it in her craft box. Wouldn't want to lose something valuable like that, right?]

[How you've made his day, Annie. Blake smiles and props his chin on his hand briefly.]

So, we're good? Or one-nineteenth of the way there, at least?

[She smiles at him, soft, touched by how he seems so adamant to fix whatever's wrong. Except Annie didn't really know there was anything wrong specifically, but whatever. She can roll with it. She's not going to look a gift Blake in the mouth. (Or is she...)]

Definitely.

o8 | what more am I owed than certain death | open action/accidental video;

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