fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [08/24].

It was becoming a part of the routine at this point, Wayne making a little extra time in his Monday mornings to head to the common room to prepare himself for whatever tom fuckery the island was going to throw at him, although the steps were sometimes a little different based on what had happened the week before. This week, he first went to check the fridge, and was pleased to find that there was not a single shrimp to be found. And the next step was to check the cabinets, where all the dry ingredients and the pots and pans and plates and utensils were all just as they should. The stove? Working fine. Coffee maker? Coffee as it should. Wayne cautiously whipped up a little test batter for a test pancake, and, sure enough, just a regular pancake came out in the end.

So everything was normal fer breakfast that day, which you'd have thought would make Wayne happy, but, oh contrar-ray, it was having just the opposite effect, causing him to grumble in dissatisfaction as he got to work.

'Cause a quiet, normal day today more'n likeleh meant it had something in store fer next week instead.

[[ and open breakfast is open! ]]

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"Good morning, Cowboy," Eleanor said cheerfully as she entered the common room. "I would like a shrimp omelette with extra shrimp and.... a side of shrimp."

Because naturally after last week there should be shrimp.

Then be ready to be sorely disappointed, Eleanor. Jus' 'cause Summer was more's willing to encourage this sort of monstrous behaviour on a weekly basis didn't mean Wayne was so keen!

In fact, the fact that Summer was so shamelessly enabling was only.going to make him all the more stubborn on the matter.

"Then you'd best pitter-patter on over to the shrimp store," he informed her, "because there's no shrimp here."

Followed, of course, by a nod. "Eleanor. How are ya now?"

He was going to go out on a limb and guess he wasn't gonna get a 'good'n'you' in response.

"No shrimp?"

The expression on her face was one of utter disappointment.

"So is this how it is? You sucker me in with one shrimp breakfast and now it's just... pancakes?"

She sighed. "Fine. I'll have pancakes. And I'm doing find now that there aren't any weird horses I have to think happy thoughts at. You?"

"Ohhhh," Wayne drawled it out a bit, squinting, because he was a little surprised that didn't go nearly as bad as he'd imagined it might, so this next part was mustered up with a bit of genuineness, "not so bad.

"And I told you last week," he reminded her, now that that was out of the way, and he put together a plate for Eleanor and handed it on over to her, "that we only did the shrimps 'cause they were there. Seems it's lettin' things be normal today."

Edited 2020-08-24 12:43 (UTC)

"Oh, sure. The 'Island'-"

And yes. There were finger quotes.

"-gives you all the food. Of course it does. Unfortunately I'm sure your pancakes are not as good as anything without shrimp," she said, taking a bite. And then frowning.

"Nope. The pancakes are fantastic."

Of course they are.

Was Sabine planning on just living in her warehouse this week? Yes she was! But she did stop in today, partly since there was limited time before there were new people who might be coming in here.

"Morning."

Might as well get a good free breakfast in her belly before she went and did that, anywhey!

Wayne met Sabine's greeting with the requisite nod. "Sabine," he said, "how are ya now?"

And to that, Wayne was just going to preen a little like the world's most serious flannel-clad peacock, because of course he knew it was true, but it was jus' good to hear it, especially considering the almost aggressive lack of shrimp.

"See what you've been missin' out on all this time?"

"Great," she lied. Because she was living in the warehouse this week. "How are you, Wayne?"

There was the faintest little tick for Sabine kind of getting it, but not really getting it, which you think he'd be used to by now, but no. Still, his answer came back just as it should be.

"Oh, not so bad." And it was true, too. Wayne honestly hadn't even noticed too much about the last weekend, mostly because he was distracted by makin' plans for heading home after breakfast for the week.

Plus, nothing untoward was happening with breakfast that morning, so that was pretty good, too.

"Fix you up a plate?"

"Sure, thanks," she said, nodding. "Got any plans for the break week?"

"Headin' home not too long after this," Wayne informed her as he started loading up a plate, perfectly times so that when he finished talking, he'd be handing it on over. "Check on the farm a bit, Katy, old Gus."

Especially that last one. Of the weekend affected him in any way, it was in desperately missing his dogs.

"Then back again, in time for the picnic. What've you for in store fer the week yerself?"

Eleanor let out a long groan of frustration having to admit she was wrong. "Yeeeees. Fine. They're forking great! Okay?" she grumbled. "Don't get a swelled head. They're just pancakes."

Of which she's already wolfed down a bunch.

Because they were really good. Damn it.

She shifted in her chair uncomfortably because there was one more thing she had to say that was probably going to make Wayne happy.

"Can I have more?

Shirt. That one hurt.

"Oh, you know. Art," she said, taking the plate. "I've got a mural to put up, and then it's probably due for an armor change."

Yeah, it was definitely not helping to decrease the smug satisfaction that was radiating off of Wayne at the moment, but, really, he was mostly just glad that Eleanor had finally come around to logic and common sense.

But he wasn't about to say nothin' about it (at that moment, anywhey). He'd just go ahead and fix Eleanor up another plate.

Eleanor would very much love to wipe that smug look off her face.

But then she wouldn't get pancakes. Which she was now eating.

"God forking damn it. Why do they have to taste good?" she grumbled.

"A mural, y'say?" asked Wayne, conversationally. "What kinda mural you have in mind?"

"Every time something stupid affects the whole island, I paint it in the warehouse district," she said. "I've been doing it the last couple years."

It was catharsis.

"Well," answered Wayne, "that right there would be Number A:," he started ticking them off with his fingers, "quality ingredients. Number B: a traditional recipe. And Number C: lots of practice!"

Before anyone asked, yes, he knew what a rhetorical question was. He was jus' chosin' that moment to ignore that .

"You know numbers and letters are- you know what? I'm letting you have this because I gave you a lot of crap and I want more pancakes when I'm done with this plate," she admitted.

Mostly it's because she knew if she were mean and bitchy she wouldn't get pancakes.

"Is that so?" Wayne's voice tended to go up a little in pitch when he made the effort for small talk; it wasn't something he found exactly Nature, but it was certainly polite. "I never bothered spending much time out there, that part'a the island. Mebbe I'll have to swing by, give 'er a look."

"It's good stuff," Sabine said, because it was, and she had no modesty about that.

Which was actually not at all true. Wayne wasn't in the habit of denying anyone the most important meal of the day, not even mean and bitchy people. Perhaps especially not mean and bitchy people, 'cause the way he saw it, they were probably the ones who could use it the most.

He was a bit distracted by a different point, though, anywhey.

"...that's a lot of pancakes," he noted.

Which was great, because that meant fewer leftovers and less waste, but...where did she even put it all?

"No doubt!" Wayne agreed, although he didn't really know much about art and, if he was honest, didn't really care fer much of it, though he s'posed some of it was interesting. "I'm lookin' forward to checkin' it out once I get back."

Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [08/24].

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