fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [09/14].

There was a whole new step that had been developed, recently, in Wayne's process for gettin' up and makin' breakfast to start the day. It started with him actually waking up, gettin' ready (a process that didn't take too long at all), checking radio, checking his hawkey fights, and then heading to the common room, and (this was the new part) doing a swift but thorough look around the place to check fer anything...funny. Because if there was anything funny, he wanted to make sure he got wind of it before getting into his cooking, even if the funny didn't even directly relate to the cooking itself.

Like today, there was definitely a gremlin hanging out over behind the TV, which was generally good to know, because if he hadn't done that sweep, then he could have come right out and surprised someone at an inopportune moment, and now he could at least give people the warning.

Other'n that, though, everything seemed normal, the food was all as it should be, the equipment was all right...Well, it seemed all the usual plates had been replaced with small plastic kiddy plates with cartoon characters and dividers in 'em, but if that and the gremlin were the worst of what he was getting today, Wayne wasn't going to complain!

...not too much, anywhey!

[[ open breakfast is open! ]]

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Despite mounds of evidence to the contrary and his ability to go along with things much better these days, Wanye still didn't feel like he was used to it, and it had been well over a year now, fuck.

So he wasn't really sure how to answer a question like that.

"You just...do, I s'pose...."

He didn't feel like that was very good, though, so he reconsidered and asked, "What're you having trouble with in particular?"

"I don't know, man," Miles admitted. "This place just freaks me out. Science class made everyone fly last week. I'm in a class on how to be a super-hero when I got nothing to be a super-hero with. And then there's that."

Miles pointed his fork at the gremlin.

"I just don't feel like I belong yet. You know?"

Wayne turned his head to follow the fork, despite knowing exactly what Miles was pointing at. And then looked back.

"That might not be a bad thing, there, super chief."

Granted, he felt his own ability to have somehow managed to fit in here was a bit...conflicting.

“Maybe,” Miles replied. He sighed. “I guess I’ll figure it out sooner or later. Or maybe I’ll just start making lunch for anyone who is new here just to feel normal.”

He’s just kidding, Wayne.

Like Wayne could be expected to just know that! He squinted a bit suspiciously at Miles now, wondering if he'd have to start worrying about defending his breakfast territory again...

"Well," he said, attending importantly to another pancake with his shoulders a little bit more squared, "lunch isn't exactly the most important meal of the day, but it's still pretty important, I think people might appreciate that 'round here..."

There were even six whole other days of the week one could do it in!

"Yeah, but breakfast is your thing," Miles pointed out. "I'd feel weird making breakfast especially since yours is much better."

"I do what I can," said Wayne, with a bit of modesty, although, realleh, that was pretty true, and there was just no point in arguing the truth. "You do much cookin' back at home, there, Miles?"

Partly out of the conversations, partly to see if he did have to worry about a threat...and maybe partly to find out if he should be a bit suspect about that sandwich waiting for him fer lunch, jus' in case Miles had any sort of...alternative cooking methods like Nina's that it wouldn't hurt to be aware of.

"Well I make a mean empanadilla," Miles said leaning back in his chair. "And while my mom's arroz con habichuelas is the best, mine is a close second."

Wayne would eventually find out that his sandwich is just bread from J'GOB and roast beef from the local grocery. Nothing fancy.

And Wayne considered that that did sound pretty good, and he would definitely encourage Miles to explore and share that witht he rest of the dorms, but there was at least one thing that needed to be cleared up first.

"And you don't...you wouldn't use, let's say, something like eggs fer yer ice cream or sugar'n'shellfish to make pancakes, would you?"

Miles looked at Wayne like he had lost his mind.

“No. I mean... No! Why? Who would... No. Just no.”

That was a good answer, Miles. A real fucking good answer.

He nodded his approval.

"Mebbe you can whip up some of those empanadillas one of the days, then, so's we can all enjoy 'em."

And, a pause.

"...and it's Nina," he offered, since she was allegedleh back now, so it might do good to give Miles a warning. "If she ever beats me in here fer makin' breakfast, that's likely what she's cookin' with."

AND YET YOU COULDN'T EVEN TELL, IT MADE NO SENSE, AND HE DIDN'T LIKE IT. Even if he did like Nina jus' fine.

“Nina.”

Even the name sounded like a warning.

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll whip a bunch sometime.”

Oh, and it was. And Wayne felt as if he'd accomplished some sort of veteran duty by imparting such a warning to Miles about it, too.

"Looking forward to it!" he stated, and he meant it, just so long as his hallowed breakfast ground was left sacred.

Because Monday morning breakfast was tradition, Miles. And you don't fuck with tradition.

Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [09/14].

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