etrayalogs | (open)

[ Of all things, Nicky acquired a 5 kilogram bag of almond flour. There is an oven in this apartment, which has been hard at work all afternoon. The door is propped open, with Welcome sign pasted on neat cursive, and the aroma of cookies and freshly brewed coffee waft down the corridor. The small table is neatly set, the kitchen counter groaning under more boxes of cookies. ]

[ Hey, he's got to do something with 5kg! ]

[ For those coming for dinner, there are still some boxes of cookies by the side, leftovers. But this time Nicky has gotten an extra table to support the two trays of focaccia and the large one of parmigiana. Chairs are arranged by the side, and this time Nicky is seated, facing the door. The Welcome sign is currently being determinedly re-pasted on with a bit of extra tape, and Nicky is humming to himself as he does so. Sort of blocking the way in... unless you'd like to try the closed window. ]

[ ooc: none of these work for you? come even earlier than tea or in the middle of the night, too. feel free to tag in here with your own or let me know and i'll set something up! ]

[ Barbara decides not to twice before she decides to. Not because she knows what to expect, but because they need to know the lay of this land, of the people they don't know—they need to make allies and find out who else her also wants to see everyone and their world released from this mad game.

She finds herself standing outside the door, stretching her shoulders back, trying to appease the twinge between her shoulder blades; the domino little pop bottle shocks down her spine from it, sore sticking to her since that rude awakening in the bright white room the first day. It's not going to do anything but linger, annoyingly, until it fades again.

(The current tension of the situation probably isn't helping.)
She releases a breath from her nose and raises a hand to knock.

At least the coffee smells good from here already. ]

Edited 2024-04-29 01:18 (UTC)

[ She knocks. The door is opened immediately by Nicky - dressed terribly plainly in a grey shirt and a pair of jeans. His belt has the strap for a sword, which is empty, but there are small knives hidden on his person, the knives of a prepared fighter, that she may be able to see if she looks very closely. Nicky is not exactly concealing them judiciously. ]

Good evening. Please, come in.

[ He smiles pleasantly at her, and tugs the door open to prop it that way. ]

[ Barbara, similarly, isn't very dressed up. She's in more clothes from the Roxx, but they still don't quite feel right. It's not like she wants to spend all day, everywhere, going around in her Batgirl uniform. She's not Bruce.

The knives do get a look, as does the room. Barbara's used to making she takes a casual, curious glance around the rooms she walks into. She doesn't need to look long. Later, she'll draw up the pristine clarity of the memory and walk through each detail individually. (Maybe she can even convince Dick to give her a back rub while she does it. If she lets herself ask.) ]

Thanks. I'm Barbara. From up in the penthouse.

This is really kind of you to offer to everyone.

Edited 2024-04-29 01:47 (UTC)

[ She notices the knives. As does Nicky, watching where her eyes go, how she holds herself. He would have guessed a dancer, at first, but with martial training... it is not so far apart. ]

[ As Barbara does not comment on what is hidden in his clothes, neither does he draw attention to it. She's only in danger if she makes certain choices, and if she came here intending to make them, well. Three small knives would not be such a deterrent. ]

[ The room is not extremely decorated from what he found. Nicky has a corner apartment on a higher floor, with an excellent view. The window faces the street, and is slightly ajar, for ventilation. Otherwise, everything here is as he found it, blissfully Spartan. If not for the meal and for Nicky's own presence, it might seem like the place was empty. ]

It is only neighbourly. [ He gestures her towards a chair, one that can see the room. ] I am Nicholas. A pleasure.

[ He speaks with a distinct Italian accent. ]

[After spending several decades in Hell it's been an awful nice change to be here. As a general rule he wasn't having a lot of luck interacting with the world or the people here but it was still way better then Hell. Especially when people put messages about making focaccia. Fuck it'd been so long since he's had some, and if the dudes from Italy? Then holy shit is it bound to be good! Especially considering that this place had all sorts of fresh ingredients which had pretty much been the best thing about it.

So as he found his way to the specified apartment with his stomach was clearly leading the charge as he gives a knock to the slightly ajar door announcing his presence as he sort of dips through the doorway, since he's a good solid foot or more over the height of the doorframe.]

Hello?

[He calls out, mismatched eyes glancing around for the host.]

Hello,

[ Nicky calls, pleasantly, approaching the door. His eyes give his new guest a quick once-over, checking for weapons, injuries, and then he turns and gestures to the tables, where fresh food is beckoning. ]

Please, come in. What can I get you?

[He doesn't have any weapons, unfortunately, and he's not injured either. All of his bullshit of this world thus far had been mostly mental. The creatures he'd helped capture had been easy, the doppelgänger? Not so much.

But that was in the past and thankfully that shithead was gone. Though it seemed at times he wasn't entirely forgotten...

But none of that matters now. Angel just about floats over to that table of food like a cartoon. Exceedingly long legs making short work so he can actually look at everything.]

Fuck... That smells amazing.

[Introductions? What are those? He's really only in it for the food if he's honest, he swears he'll come back to it but he just has to drink in all the lovely smell and sights of whats in front of him.]

[ Hunger can be cruel. Nicky knows. Starvation once licked at his insides too well. So there is no issue of manners. ]

Help yourself. There is plenty to go around.

[ And he's not objecting to making more - he has plenty of ingredients and cookies besides. ]

[He doesn't really look like he eats much, which he really didn't before getting here for a number of reasons, but since he got here it feels a little like all he does.]

Ain't you expecting more people? I mean you put out the invite t'the whole network and all...

I can make more. It is no trouble.

[ Thankfully, lack of fresh ingredients is not a problem here. ]

If you have a sweet tooth, there are still cookies from earlier.

[ Like. There are a lot of cookies. On the kitchen counter. ]

[They are not, that's all you got to say to him. He was polite, as much as he could be, he let the other offer twice and the offer hadn't changed.]

I ain't much of a sweets guy as a general rule and especially not when there's way better options.

[He is a total starch guy. He very happily cuts himself off a piece of the flat bread and helps himself making contented little noises as he munches away. He absolutely savours it like someone who hasn't eaten something like that in years.

Which he hadn't. It'd been fucking decades. Before he even has the first piece down the hatch he's using one of the secondary sets of hands to slice himself off another piece. The unexpected benefit to having two sets of visible arms; more ability to shovel.]

Fuck this is good. You really make this? You ain't like, makin' the bots do it and sayin' its all you ya?

[ Sandalphon is merely pacing through the halls when he passes right by that open door with its Welcome sign. He may not have noticed at all, occupied with his own thoughts as he is, but the rich aroma of coffee draws his attention.

Prompts him to backpedal.

Now he observes the welcome sign and pokes his head into the doorway. Being a very literal creature, he takes the welcome as an invitation and steps into the apartment... Though he doesn't so much announce himself as stand there glancing about like a tourist. ]

[ Nicky is setting the table when his guest looks in, and smiles at him standing at the door. Just a quick look over Sandalphon, if he seems especially hungry, hurt, or tired... ]

Please, come in. Coffee, and cookies.

[ Nicky has never met anyone with four arms. ]

[ So he does... linger, but not impolitely. Just enough to accept that this is life now. There are people with four arms. But that doesn't matter much, because they enjoy food just the same, and that's what's important to Nicky. ]

Not at all, [ Nicky smiles. ] This is all my doing.

[Technically he has six. Though one set is currently tucked away and is virtually invisible unless he so chooses to bring them out.

But he's getting used to the stares as thus far he seems to be the oddest looking selection that Echo has plucked from a world, at least outwardly, and at least this one isn't followed by calling him an alien, or a mascot, or a coat rack. It doesn't bother him, but it is starting to get annoying.]

I ain't had anything like this since nonna used t'make it for cena della domenica.

[ooc; fun fact i don't speak Italian but Angel can, if the conversation turns more to Italian from this point it will likely be represented as English but italicized. I used a translator for the above except for nonna that I technically knew. xD]

[ Nicky's eyes widen, simply a fraction. Then, he smiles, very brilliantly, as if Angel is an old and dear friend. ]

Ah, what high praise. [ Then, lightly, ] Buon appetito.

[ ooc: no worries, I don't speak Italian either but Nicky does; will italicise further! ]

Buon appetito. [If there's one thing he loves more than drugs and sex, it's food and since there isn't much of the former there he'll drink in the latter. Or rather shovel in.]

Hers was better, but this is a pretty good substitute.

[In typical Italian-American he blends, and some of his words might seem slightly off as though he hasn't spoken said language in some time. Which he hadn't.]

So what'da want in return?

[Cause clearly he probably has an ulterior motive for wanting to break bread with a bunch of strangers. He looks around the tablet for a plate to scoop up some of the actual parmigiana now as well because well he doesn't give a shit if the other has an ulterior motive. He's hungry. Watching him move his various arms around the table each one preforming a separate task yet somehow moving all as one unit is likely mesmerising.]

[ Sandalphon looks to be in prime health, though the armor on his upper body strikes as decidedly medieval in appearance. Oddly enough, it hardly makes a sound when he ventures further into the apartment. ]

Is this what mortals refer to as an "open house"?

[ He's absolutely taking a stab in the dark, undersocialized as he is. But he does hear various terms tossed around. ]

[Daisy's been out of the hospital for a few days now, but today is the first time she's actively left her apartment. Only because of the promise of a homemade dinner, and because it became clear that they must be on the same floor as her as the smell of food was wafting into her apartment.

Getting changed into something other than sweats and one of Joric's shirts was a bit of a struggle with one arm in a cast and sling, but she eventually makes her way down the hall to Nicholas' apartment when she spots him putting something on his door. She comes to a stop a few feet away from him, stunned to see that this isn't some stranger. But someone she knew.]

Holy shit.

[Daisy says out loud before she can stop herself.]

Nicky?

Edited 2024-05-01 01:55 (UTC)

[ He feels someone approaching, but doesn’t turn around until he’s smoothed over the corner of the Welcome sign. ]

[ And. Blinks. The recognition is only one way, and that surprises him. Her voice brims with a known familiarity, and Nicky is sure he has never met her before. ]

Sì?

[A smile quickly finds its way onto her face, but it only stays there temporarily. It becomes clear by the lack of recognition on his face that he has no idea who she is.]

Oh, um--

[Does she backtrack? It's probably better that she does. She just can't seem to come up with a good way to get out of this.]

Sorry. I thought you were someone else.

[~~Smooth.]~~

[ Is this what it feels like to be referred to as a mortal? Well, it is true. He is indeed mortal. (Just not currently.) ]

Indeed. May I ask your name?

[ Before he asks after the armour. Silent, yes, well crafted. Nicky can appreciate art. ]

(open)

TEA TIME.

DINNER.

WILDCARD.

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