2007-08-13: DF: OMNOMNOMNOM

Starring:

DFElena_icon.gif Eric_icon.gif DFPeter_icon.gif DFTrina_icon.gif

Summary: Breakfast with the Saints.

Dark Future Date: August 13th, 2009

OMNOMNOMNOM


Phoenix Rising Towers

She only got a good night's sleep because she cheated. As always, if Elena couldn't do something, she made herself do it. And she needed sleep, so thanks to her abilities, she made it happen. While rested, once awake, her brain was back in active mode and at 6:00 in the morning, she is up, and padding barefoot down the hall from her room in a pair of black yoga pants and a tanktop. She fully intends on getting a cup of coffee, and then the training room, before venturing out to a certain phone booth at 9th Avenue and Main.

Truth be told, she wants to go now. But it was too early and they just established contact yesterday. He said as soon as possible, but it can't feasibly be soon.

Walking into the kitchen, she rubs her eyes, and proceeds to start making a fresh batch for everybody. Waiting for it to brew, she picks up a magazine - one of Ali's, and moves over to the breakfast counter so she could sit on one of the chairs. Despite the interesting article about finding a new genetic strain for Cancer in one of the pages, her mind is elsewhere. The pen in her hand taps lightly on the magazine.

Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap - tap - tap.
Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap…

Faster and faster. She was clearly thinking, the pace reflected how fast. Her eyes are turned to the far wall, chin propped on one hand. Like back in school where she's listening to a professor lecture about the regenerative properties of lizards.

—-

While she taps away, someone else enters. Despite the advice to use her abilities to get better sleep, Peter doesn't look as if he'd been quite as successful. He's showered, though, shaved, and has clothes on, which helps make him appear to be a human being and not a zombie. Could be he doesn't know how to do it properly, or whatever keeps waking him up happens to bypass such an ability. "Morning," he says, moving over to the fridge as he sees the coffee brewing. There's other things he can do for everyone besides coffee… "You wouldn't happen to know how everyone takes their eggs, do you?"

—-

She looks up. Peter has a distinctive voice, so she doesn't really need to look at him to know it was him. "…morning," Elena says, setting her pen down and rubbing her eyes a little bit to clear her eyesight. "And scrambled with cheddar usually gets pretty good reviews. Except Eric, he doesn't like eggs. Prime, Gene, Jack, and Trina would eat anything. You need to strap a funnel in Ali's mouth to get her to eat anything." And Peter never knew how she liked her eggs - he never had the opportunity to make her breakfast before. Then again, it's an easy guess…..this is Elena. She was like a vaccuum cleaner when it comes to food, hence her favorites are a little difficult to peg.

—-

Must. Have. Coffee.

Must. Have. Coffee.

Its like a chant in Eric's mind as the young multi-billionare works his way down the hallway. Has he been up all night? Or did he just not get much sleep? One of the two. However the clothes that he's wearing don't look anything like a businessman like him should be wearing.

Its just a plain sleeveless white t-shirt with oil and grease stains splattered around it. Blue jeans that have seen better days, with the same stains, workboots and a pair of what looks to be cloth gloves tucked into his belt, he looks more like some mechanic that Trina would know rather than the owner of this building.

However he staggers into the kitchen, yawning slightly into his hands. Those are clean enough even if his arms are more than alittle black. He blinks slightly though as he finds the place…occupied.

Pause.

"…please tell me the coffee is done?"

—-

Doesn't like eggs? What kind of terrible person is he? Peter pulls out the container of eggs and goes about looking for cheese as well. It's true, he never did get to make her breakfast, one of the many regrets he has— never got to cook for her at all. But since Eric doesn't like eggs… "Does he like pancakes?" he asks, as he moves over to look for other options. Breakfast meats, pancake mix, bread for toast— and then the person who doesn't like eggs wanders in, looking for coffee. "It's still brewing," he says regretfully to the man who isn't quite awake, before he turns and asks, "What do you eat for breakfast besides coffee?
"More coffee."

—-

She looks at the newcomer. "It's brewing, relax," Elena says, glancing down to her magazine and pushes it away. Propping her chin up on both her hands this time, she watches Peter bustle around the kitchen. "Plain black, I'm afraid. I saw a bunch in the cupboard, including this…new Neopolitian flavored coffee from Nestle which just sounds…well. Disgusting." Chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla worked on ice cream, but coffee? Ew? She looks over at Peter. "We found Winters. He wants to help break out Cass." She pauses. "…it could still be a trap but Papa was with me and he used his gifts to figure out whether he was telling the truth or not. So there are arrangements. We'll be getting her back soon. Do you need any help?"

—-

"…pancakes work fine…" Eric mutters as he takes a steat at the table, slumping down onto it and then pillowing his head on his arms on the table. Out all night playing sniper, and then up early to work on the car, such is the double life of one of the saints eh? "…with Ramon there its unlikely that he was trying to trick us. I still think we should be really careful on this. One whiff on this and Punktrelli is going to be all over the meeting scene. He dosn't like us very much if you noticed."

—-

"Really? I— it felt like he was a reluctant partner," Peter says, relieved to hear that he'd been right about that feeling. It had been different— though his brother's changed so much that… "And your father's a good indicator, so— I hope nothing goes wrong." He's not ready for that kind of thing, though, is he? So he takes in a slow breath and starts to gather up pancake mix. Juggling three things on the stove won't be easy, but— she offers to help. There's visible hesitation. "I can handle it, I think— this is how I earned my keep when I was staying at the Zoo." Daphne's really big about people working for their room, earning their keep. So he gets to work on doing the same here, even if only two mouths to feed have entered. He'll focus on the pancakes. "Don't think he likes anyone," he admits about the President, mixing, mixing…

—-

"Yeah." Elena frowns at the counter. "He did it for Rose. His daughter." She isn't sure whether Peter or Eric met Benjamin's daughter, but she did. "When Rose and I met, it was around the time Benji got taken by the company. She pulled a gun on me, but I managed to convince her I wasn't one of them. I…I don't know what happened to her, but she struck me as the streetwise type. And Benji didn't tell us, but I could tell whatever happened, it was bad." She levels her gaze elsewhere. "I got the impression he wanted to die. Or he didn't care about living anymore." The last is said softly, the expression on her face threatening to cave. But then the composed look is back, and she stands up so she could move to the coffee maker so she could pour them all some cups. "Papa didn't take it well. I'm going to see him today." Eric had been watching last night's festivities, Ramon didn't really react - but his daughter knows better. Delving in Benji's mind only broke him further, what he saw.

—-

Eric looks up from the table then before he sighs slightly. He glances towards Elena a moment before he sighs slightly. "…I never met her," He says softly. No. Thats never a good thing, not to care. Yes. It must have been bad. He remembered Benji vaguely. He wasn't as good a friend of the man as Ramon or Elena. He does nod though, running one stained hand though his hair as he slowly sits up. "I know, I cleared most of his schedule of meetings, so you can drop by any time you like and he shouldn't be all that busy."

—-

In the cooking area of the kitchen stands Peter Petrelli. The nice one. And he's mixing pancakes. While Elena and Eric talk, he frowns quietly, and then goes to see what kind of aprons they might happen to have. There's one he can stomach putting on, plain blue, and he wraps it over his clothes and then returns to work. He'll be cooking pancakes while they continue talking business. "I never actually met Rose either," he admits. But— something bad must have happened. There's little he can add, and they already know he'll help if needed— so right now he'll just make breakfast. Pancakes to start, but there's breakfast meats and eggs and cheese already set out.

—-

"Thanks." And that's all she's going to say on that. Papa's problems were off-limits to the general public. Elena walks over, setting a mug of coffee in front of Eric. "Drink that before you're compelled to eat our brains." She glances over at Peter mixing pancakes, but while he's doing that, she moves over so she could set a mug of coffee for him on the counter, and takes hers back to where she's sitting. "Anyway I don't know when the pick-up is yet. I need to wait for info, and I'll go check out the drop point today after breakfast." Thanks Pete. "I already contacted Daphne and Rudy at the zoo, they released an army of stray dogs and rats yesterday to look for Lachlan."

—-

There's the smell of food. It's strange, becoming reacclimated to the odor of freshly prepared food. It didn't come out of a commandeered military ration, emergency supply, or other such dehydrated store. It's real food, sending its curling tendrils of aroma down the hall. It is that smell that eventually draws Trina's slender form to the kitchen. She's dressed in Jack's worn sweat pants and a beat up tank top, long black hair tied upon itself into a knot and feet left bare. Somebody, t'would seem, has just gotten out of bed. Yeah, sleeping in? Also a beloved, reclaimed luxury. Slumber-heavy blue eyes peer into the kitchen as she leans heavily against the door frame. Food? She totally smelled food.

—-

"One more zombie for breakfast it looks like Pete," Eric quips as he notes that Trina's state about matches his. He just grins slightly at the newcomer, Eric looking like he has spent the last hour or two in the garage…under something. POSSIBILY EVEN A CAR. Who knows. However the young man glances towards Elena with a nod. Its the least he could do…before grabbing the cup of coffee revrently…almost like its his lifeline. He stares at it for a long moment, inhaleing the caffine smell. Then takes a long sip of of it. Pause. "..better." He says. "I think my brain is slowly coming into gear. Slowly."

—-

And— just as the food zombie has entered, a stack of pancakes gets dropped on the table for them. Don't eat them all at once, hear. He offers the young woman a lopsided smile before he returns to the stove to get to work on as many things at once as possible. There's eggs and cheese, and then there's pancakes as well. Both at once. And he's not even slowing down time to do this part, though they may see him move his hands around and pull things over from the counter without actually walking to get it. "I'm glad you were able to get ahold of Daphne. Hope you're able to find him fast." And that he didn't get himself in trouble trying to save her on his own— he doesn't put it past Lachlan to attempt it.

—-

She hasn't taken a sip of her coffee yet, so Elena stands up, and hands Trina her mug. This is clearly the young latina Saint's mug, because it is red, with a cartoon ninja printed on the beat-up ceramic with the word 'SNKT!' near where the katana is held. She moves back to the coffee maker to get herself a new one. "I don't know where Lachlan is, but his daughter is probably with him and she might have been the only one keeping Lachlan from….well. Burning down the city to find Cass." She watches him use his TK with a critical eye, and then she nods approvingly.

—-

"I think mine dropped its clutch," Trina mutters in reply to Eric's comment, shuffling sleepily towards the table. Once there, she delicately settles into a chair, only to fall forward, allowing her forehead to connect with the table with an audible 'klunk'. Some of her ebony hair escapes its tentative prison, falling onto the table on either side of her face. She's just gonna inhale breakfast today, thanks. At the mention of Cass, though, her head tilts upward just enough so that she peer groggily in Elena's direction from behind her sloppy veil. Tired, she may be, but she's listening.

—-

Nom. Pancakes. Slowly standing up Eric grins towards the trio there before going to fish out plates and silverware out of the cabinets. He comes back with enough for everyone befroe thumping back down in his chair and claiming a few of the lovely lovely nummyness for himself. Mmmm. Coffee. Pancakes. Life is good. "…if they have all that out looking for Lachlan the'll find him…and yeah…I'm sure that having his daughter with him will stop him setting /too/ much on fire." They should have Cass back again soon, and then…and then all will be right with the world.

—-

"Lachlan seemed to have mellowed quite a bit thanks to Abby," Peter mentions as he works on more food. There's more gestures and more things fly over to him, he even tries breaking an egg with TK. It works, more or less— but he ends up tossing that one entirely rather than pick eggshells out. Need to work on precision still. They'll have a few minutes before the scrambled eggs with chedder is dropped into a dish on the table. "So what breakfast meats do you three prefer?" It's not his best cooking, when it comes to meats, but— he cooked for his brother more than once. He can handle it.

—-

"I say put his daughter in a safe place and then let him burn it." Ah, Trina. Finally lifting her head, the mechanic lets her fingers stretch out to snag a pancake. Utensils are for the weak. Wrapping it up into a roll, she takes a bite of it. And pauses. Slowly she chews. And then her eyes grow wide. "Holy crap, that's awesome." Turning, she gives Peter a serious look. "We get to keep you, right?" Wait. He's not the authority, she keeps on going. Turning to Elena next, she points in Peter's direction. "We get to keep him, right?" Then back to Peter. "I… Is there sausage?" Oh, goodness. This is the best morning in a long, long time. All she needs is Jack home, and it'd be the bestest.

—-

"I'm not picky." Because Elena eats like a horse. She'd eat anything. Well, almost anything. But so far she hasn't eaten anything she hasn't liked. But she does squint critically at Peter trying to break an egg with his TK. Huh. He needs to work on that. "I'd eat anything." But he knows that. She lets Eric and Trina get their first pick of the pancakes and breakfast stuff on the table - not because she doesn't want to eat Peter's food, but her Saints go first….

…that, and she's afraid if she tried to get in Trina's path, she'll come away with missing fingers. Better let her go first.

"We're working on finding him first, but I think that's the plan if Plan A fails," she tells Trina, pouring herself a new mug since she gave Trina hers. And takes a sip of her coffee. And when the mechanic turns to her, and points to Peter MID-SIP, she practically sprays the coffee all over the place, coughing and gagging. She'll be a while. Don't mind her.

—-

"…no we can't keep him," Eric has to fight down the laughter at the question, its a failing battle this early in the morning. Finally he looses entirely, having to set down his coffee as he laughs and laughs, warm and rich. "I can see it now! New Marketing sensation! Peter in every home, he cooks! He cleans! He does windows!" He has his hands spread wide in the air infront of him and he just grins at them all. "We could make MILLIONS!"

…then he breaks down into laughter again at the oh so awsomely pitiful look on Trina's face.

—-

No, no he's not the authority. But— Peter can't help but smile a little when Trina asks that question, and more when the young woman asks it to Elena and the poor girl spews coffee. A gesture brings a towel over, which he sets down on the table within reach of Elena, before he says, "I'm glad you like it. I can do this every morning I'm here, at least. Least I can do for the room and board." It's a promise of sorts to the pretty young mechanic, before he returns to the stove. There's another smile spared for Eric, and then he says, "If I spend much more time with J— Prime— that might actually be possible." It's a joke, really. "We do have sausage, yes." Links and patties. And you know what? He's going to make both of them, and bacon as well. The meats will take a while. More food will follow.

—-

No keep Peter? Trina indeed looks terribly sad. It is even sadder as Elena sprays coffee EVERYWHERE, ruining pancakes in the process. Nooooooo. Fortunately, there's a forcefield that erects itself to protect Mah from the Gomez girl's devastating coffee attack, Trina clasping her stolen mug close to her chest. Fortunately, Peter is there with the save, promising at least one more morning with FOOD. "See?" she tells Eric with a childishness not often seen anymore and a superficial smugness. "We can keep him. For now." To Peter, she offers a small, more genuine smile. "I'm cool with 'for now'." Now back to your regularly scheduled coffee.

—-

OH GEE THANKS GUYS. She's already struggling with ONE Peter in the headquarters and now you all want to market him for EVERYWHERE? Elena just…just buries her face in her hand…this hand that's snagged the towel considerately placed near her so she could wipe her face and hide it. She's turning a little purple underneath. No. She's not laughing. SHE'S NOT LAUGHING. SHUT UP. Eric this is all your fault. "You don't NEED any more money!" is blurted back to Eric. And with a grumble, she shoves the entire plate of pancakes over to Trina. There. Eat. Forget the coffee fountain.

—-

Eric, like some kind of schoolyard boy seems to have taken a little bit of Trina's childishness to heard. He looks comicly agast at Elena before pointing at her oh so overdramaticly. "You take that back! You can never have too much!" Of course about that time he relises that he didn't have the superawsome Trina shield against coffee aggro, and now his pancakes are coffee stained. He glances down at them and pokes at it once or twice with his fork, looking rather pathetic for a moment. Then he pauses, shrugs, and positively drenches them with syrup. NOMNOMNOMNOM. "…caffine flavored pancakes."

—-

Now that it is confirmed that Peter will make them breakfast in the morning and Trina has an entire plate full of pancakes to eat with her fingers, the world is temporarily a little brighter. Another pancake is rolled up, and then dipped casually into her cup. She tests it, and then decides that, yes, it is indeed edible. Sighing contentedly, the young woman settles back into her chair and pulls her feet up to perch on the seat's edge. Don't need to talk anymore. Just eat.

—-

"Never, you can't make me!" Elena throws back at Eric, even as Trina eats all of the pancakes. But with her being silent and eating, she's free to indulge in Elenaworld. And in Elenaworld, she sees Eric swimming in a cartoon vault full of money a la Scrooge McDuck. She starts snickering. "Why am I picturing you in a top hat and a cane, swimming in a vault of money?" Because chances are, THAT'S WHAT ERIC DOES WHEN NO ONE IS LOOKING. Must be hard to be a 22 year old billionaire.

—-

"OH YEAH?!" Eric chalanges before he stuffs a good bit of pancake in his mouth and chows down on it. His manners are intact enough that the finishes chewing before he continues. Then a smirk before he laughs. "…if I could I would, it would be awsome. However its very hard to swim though coins unless your the right kind of Evoloved." Pause. "…though dancing ontop of gold bricks is perfectly doable." Oh yes. Its AMAZINGLY hard to be a 22 year old billionaire.

—-

Trina arches an eyebrow at the antics of the younger two Saints before just deciding it's just not worth stepping into the middle of their playful banter. It's good just to hear them laugh, and it's enough to make her a little pensive. Rather, she quietly rises out of her chair and snags one of the sausage links that Peter's working on getting ready to serve, biting her lower lip in her impishness. It's cooked! Just not set out yet. That done, she moves back towards the pancakes to make herself a kickass pig in a blanket.

—-

She tries to picture Eric dancing on top of a pile of gold bricks. He is chibi. He's flailing his arms around like a spastic hamster, before falling off the pile. Elena can't help it. She bursts out laughing - and it's so rare to hear her laugh these days. "Dancing as in actually dancing, or dancing as in…white boy dancing?" And then she does this…oh my god what is that? Is that the CARLTON DANCE? THIS IS JUST TO EMPHASIZE A POINT, SHE CAN DO BETTER THAN THIS.

—-

Over the PA, someone plays 'It's Not Unusual' by Tom Jones.

Elena stops, EYEBALLS the nearest security camera. "-Gene-," she glowers.

—-

Eric just stares, STARES at Elena as she starts flailing spasticly. "…I…YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!" He accuses, as he nearly falls right off the pile of his chair laughing, having to hold onto the table…and entirely ignoring the brekfest ninja. He just can't help it. "Thats HORRIBLE! And dammit I can dance better than that! I have /some/ rythm!" He protests. "Not much but some dammit!"

…of course then Tom Jones starts to play…

Pause.

Pardon Eric for a moment, he is now face down on the table, not quite howling with laughter…but very close.

—-

Somewhere along the line, Trina stopped being able to eat for fear of choking. Now she is sitting at the table, her hand over her mouth and eyes betraying that inner mixture of hysterical laughter and horror. Dammit, Peter, don't hide behind the frying pan. SAVE HER FROM THIS INSANITY, DAMN IT.

—-

Okay performance over. Elena tries to keep a straight face, crossing her arms and still glowering at the camera towards Gene. But she can't help but actually grin afterwards. She looks at Trina, whose hands are over her eyes and mouth. "Oh just let it out," she tells the mechanic, dropping on one of the seats by the breakfast counter. NOW she snags a pancake, and nibbles on it with no hands as she drags the magazine over towards her again. There it was. The Nibble Face (tm).

~It's not unuuuuusuuuuual to be loved by anyone….
It's not unuuuuusuuual to have fun with anyoneeeee~~

She can't help it. She just drops her forehead on the magazine and starts laughing helplessly, her face turning a little red.

—-

Eric had just about recovered from his fit of laughing, trying to reclaim some small piece of dignity and decourm. Davis would be giving him the Disaproving Face if he could see him now. You don't want to see that face. Its scary. However as he takes deep breaths to steady himself he opens his eyes to look over towards Elena and Trina.

…just intime to see The Nibble Face.

"…thats adoreable…" Oh god. Oh god. He said it outloud. He wasn't suposed to say it outloud. Need more coffee. Brain-Mouth filter not back on yet!

Turning a little red himself he just can't help himself, and just…starts laughing once again. Its like a chain reaction. He's not even sure who started it anymore!

—-

Peering through her fingers, Trina shakes her head defiantly. She is not being dragged into this madness. Problem? Now she can't eat. This is indeed a serious problem. …Thank God that no one can see this outside of the tightly knit group that is the Saints. Else they might think… Wait. The world ALREADY thinks that they're insane, courtesy of the Oreo Bandits. Nevermind. Their reputation's already shot.

—-

Wait till we hit up IHop. You havn't seen anything yet.

—-

Well look at it from an op planner's point of view. The more insane they are, the more unpredictable they are! And the more unpredictable they are, the more they won't get caught. Hopefully. Either way they'll be, if nothing else, the most entertaining group of terrorists around. Who wouldn't want to stick an obnoxious middle finger straight towards the current administration.

And the oreos were delicious.

The President continued their production now though. Must be because they stole his and they wanted more. SEE THE HYPOCRISY? THE CORRUPTION?

Elena sighs, it actually sounds a little content. She blinks at Eric around a mouthful of pancake. "Whafthcrltkdnce?" (What, the Carlton Dance?) she asks, swallowing the rest of it and trotting around Peter to see if she can snag a sausage.

—-

Exactly. The odder their habits, the more casualty free Ops they have, then the more the general public might actually listen to them. The more people they might touch, and the easier it may be to actually make a little bit of a difference. Besides. It was amazing. Stealing the Oreos. Best loot yet from a raid.

However at the question the blinks at Elena. "No not the dance! The face! The face!" The one she's making right now, he resists flailing his arms in laughter before he glances up. Oh yeah! Peter has sausage for people! Up he hops to go see if he can spear one with a fork as soon as Elena's out of the way.

Or even if she's in his way. Maybe she'll steal the one she was going for. Just to get her back…for…something…SHE DESERVES IT!

—-

Now that the world is returning to calm, Trina takes a deep breath and then quietly lowers her hands to reach out. Once she has her mug, the quiet mechanic proceeds to cradle her cup of coffee as she sits curled up on her chair. This is the Saints. Chaos rules here. It's best to just accept it and move on.

—-

So Eric and Elena crowd over the plate of sausages left over before Peter makes more. A fork and plate in hand, Elena tries to snag one, only for Eric to snag it away from her and put it on her plate.

"Hey," she grumbles. And so she goes for another sausage.

Yoink.

She -glowers- at him, and tries to get another one.

Yoink.

That was it.

She -elbows- Eric in the ribs, and tries to take off with -his- plate.

—-

Ah yes. Chaos. It wouldn't be the Saints little home without just a touch of Chaos. Whatever the Saints were, terrorists, freedom fighters, rebels with a cause…they were still…somewhere in there, just a bunch of twenty somethings with guns. Eric smiles as he yoinks away the first sausage. Grins as he grabs the second, and just /beams/ as he nabs the third…

And then the air wooshes out of his lungs as he gets elbowed. "Oooph!" A moment of recovery and his plate gets nabbed.

"MY SAUSAGE!"

Its an unorthodox battlecry yes, but Eric at least seems to mean it as he turns to give chase to Elena the Thief, lunging after her but missing as she ducks around the table. He glares at her. "…gimme my breakfast back." He says with a glower.

—-

It was his fault. He was messing with her first. Elena was just there, trying not to get in Peter's way as he cooks, -trying- to snag some sausages that were already prepared…and he had to go and do that. Keep yoinking the sausages she wanted. Now he's done it. Now he pays.

Elena ducks around the counter, keeping the granite surface in between them. She used to work for the service industry, so she's got the plate on one hand in a neat waitress's carry. The other one holds the fork, which she has pointed from her defensively. And then Eric glowers, and demands his breakfast back.

She glowers back at him, stabs a fork in one of her sausages that he stole that she stole back, lifts it up to the light…and EATS IT. In front of him.

"OM. NOM," she says exagerratedly.

—-

"Heyheyheyhey!" Trina cries frantically as her chair gets used as a means to make a quick turn, eyes wide and shoulders curling in as she desperately clings to and shields her coffee, trying not to spill. "Don't make me separate you two!" Oh, but look, Elena's already back across the room. The elder Saint heaves a heavy sigh and then goes back to drinking her coffee.

—-

All the while, there's someone smiling from the stove, that lopsided smile of his, flawed, but still Peterlli. Peter won't comment that there's plenty to go around— he just hasn't finished cooking them yet. A plate of bacon gets laid down next, for omnoming, and he pays particular attention to the young woman who's devouring most of the food. She's adorable, he has to admit. But— he goes back to cooking.

—-

Yeah. Yeah. So he started it, that dosn't mean she has to TORMENT HIM like this. "Don't you do it…don't you…dare…WENCH!" He calls out as she NOMs his breakfast right infront of him. Eyetwitch, eyetwitch. "You asked for it…" He grumbles, his own fork coming up into attack position.

…hrmmm. So. She's faster than he is, thats obvious isn't it. He can't get around the counter fast enough, can't go over the counter or he would be vulnerable…so…

Snapping his fingers twin cicles of shadow appear, one next to him and one next to the plate. His arm shoots out, comes out the one next to the plate…and snags the second piece of sausage.

He then gives Elena a winning grin, and NOMs half of it.

Victory. Tastes of sausage.

—-

Yes, he just called her a wench. But in saying that, she can't help it. The young Saints lieutenant grins at Eric. Widely. And KEEPS EATING HIS FOOD. That will learn him. When Trina threatens to separate the two like naughty children, she directs her grin to the mechanic. "Yes, Nauntie," Elena teases Trina, and gives her an exagerrated smoochie-boochie from where she is…only for the shadow globe to appear next to the plate she's holding and he yoinks the last two links. "Wh— wh— WHAT?! You— !" She tries to reach into the shadow, but the hand sticks right out from the other end. Because Eric's the only one who can make other people shadow-walk. Of course that doesn't stop HER from trying, but when she fails she just has the -_- face.

—-

"I tol' you before, don't *call* me that." It makes her sound old. And just because she's oldER does not make her *old*. Trina then goes back to sipping her coffee. It's useless to try to stop them before they're actually done taunting each other. She may not be the most educated of the group, but she *can* learn. Eventually.

—-

While she's glaring at Eric, Peter moves in front of her holding a plate of eggs with cheese, scrambled. It's something he knows that the shadow won't steal unless he's really doing it to spite her. There's definitely a fond look in his eyes that lingers, even as she's glaring. "Nauntie?" he can't help but repeat, looking from her to Trina. Auntie with an N, yes, he knows what it means. Nuncle had become a term he heard quite often. But Nauntie… "Hey, I was an uncle and I'm not that old. I was an uncle at 18." …pause. "Actually I was an uncle at 10…" He just didn't know about that one.

—-

"I cheat," Eric's words echo hers from so many times before as he finishes off his pair of sausages and the dispells the darkness. Letting Elena just stant there for a moment as she flails her arm into nothingness. "…and I also claim victory." Pause. "And sausages." He grins before he blinks towards Trina and then Peter as the other young man comes walking up with more breakfast. He shakes his head slightly before he draws in a slight sigh. Setting his fork down on the counter the billionaire smiles towards Elena, just before Peter eclipses his view of her. The smile a mask, the eyes dark, the good mood still there, but dampened somewhat. All that visible for just a moment before he turns away, his voice still light.

"Well now that I'm awake again, I'm off to work some more on the Mamba." His car. "I supose I'll be seeing you three around. Take care, enjoy the rest of the breakfast. It was good." He calls over his shoulder, not quite looking back as he makes his way to the door and out it, whistling some tuneless melody.

—-

The mechanic's finger loosely points in Peter's direction. "Also? Not married to that girl's Nuncle, so you just remember that." She's very respectful of Jack's delusion of bachelorhood, and Trina will never be one to encroach upon it without his permission. At least not where anyone else can hear. And… then Eric says something that tickles her ears. Her head twists, looking over her shoulder. "You got it handled, darlin', or you need help?"

—-

"That's -my- line," Elena says, mock-glowering still at Eric…only to have a plate handed to her by Peter. She blinks a little bit, but she does take it, and gives him a slight smile. "Thanks." She stabs her fork into it, and furrows her brows at Eric. "The Mamba?" She …was pretty familiar with all the names of most of the vehicles in the Saints' garage, and the name was rather new. Did he bring another vehicle into the fold? And Mamba as in Black Mamba? She tries to wrack her memory. Battle Shell, UberBinky, Julia IV, the Light Cycles, the Badass Boys mobile, Nosfertum, the Black Pearl…. what was she missing?

When Trina points out she's not married to Jack, Elena grins. "Might as well be, but…it's Jack. I think he and Lachlan made a pact or something." Cass and Lachlan have been engaged for two years and they haven't been married yet. Then again, these days there wasn't really time to take the plunge.

When Eric just emits the -vibe- that something's bothering him, she furrows her brows at his direction when he leaves. "Alright…" she says slowly, checking her watch. "We need to check Benji's drop-point in a bit though. You gonna be done in half an hour?"

—-

Delusions of bachelorhood. And yet, Jack's message to his past self was to marry Trina before all hell broke loose. Peter can't help but smile knowingly and raise an eyebrow at the woman. It's amusing. He's so tempted to say 'yet', but there's some things a man should be able to tell a woman on his own. And that he wants to marry her is definitely one of them. But— Eric is leaving. "Good luck with that," he says, nodding about the Mamba— though he doesn't really know for sure what it is. Until Trina offers to help, then he figures it's a car. Of course, then it looks like they're getting ready for business and he sighs visibly, moving back towards the stove to stop cooking, more or less. Clean up time. Yes, he even does the dishes.

—-

"I think I got this one Trina, thanks though, just a little bit of tune up work. I need to make sure the action is working on the guns and the armor is in the right shape. It'll help me concentrate," Eric replies as he pauses at the doorway. "Yes, Mamba. Black Mamba, its my car." He grins once towards Elena and Peter. "…I'll be there with bells on." He says lightly before off he turns and strolls down the hall, dissipearing towards the garage.

—-

"Don't matter none. Gettin' married ain't the be all and end all." Sure, it'd be NICE, but would it really change anything? Trina is left to wonder the point before Eric dismisses her from her promise of help. "Lemme know if she gives you any trouble down there!" she calls after Eric before turning back to her coffee. Yeah, okay. Awkward silence time seems to be upon them. Fortunately, there is a mug in her hands that is perfect for such occasions. …Except that it too fails her as she lifts it to her lips and drains it. THANKS, COFFEE CUP. Okay. Um. Right. Um. OH! GOT IT!

Rising to her feet, the dark haired woman moves to take Peter's place at the stove. She knows this drill! Jack and her have a very similar arrangement, mostly because the Fire Marshall personally requested that she never be allowed near a stove. At least, he would have if he knew the inherent risk of such a proposition. "You cooked. I got this." Her hands move to take what he's starting to shovel off into the sink. "Why don't you sit down and eat, sugar?" Food has apparently swayed Peter well into her good graces.

—-

Trina honestly really was a sweetheart. Elena can't help but smile when Jack's other half moves over to the stove to start cleaning up. "Need any help?" she offers to Trina, taking a bite of her scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese. If no one wants it, she'll eat it all. She would! She eats like a horse most of the time. Setting the plate down on the counter, she props her chin on one hand, watching Trina bustle around the kitchen. And then, the mechanic tells Peter to eat.

He -should- eat if he's not sleeping well. So she offers a spare fork to him in silence. They can share the eggs.

"I didn't know we had new acquisitions coming in the garage," she asks Trina. "How many do we have now so far?"

—-

There's a strong hint of hesitation when the young women actually offer to help with the clean up, but Peter does nod, remove the apron to put it somewhere to be cleaned later, and move over to join Elena at the offer of a spare fork and the sharing of eggs, "Thanks." Sharing the plateful of eggs (with cheese) means that he gets to watch her quietly for a while. But— "I'm probably going to go out again today— see if I can't find Hiro— or learn a little bit more. I'll be back before it gets dark." Unless he gets shot or something— but they haven't really given him much to do— and he's not invited along until he trains. He won't say he's been using outings to train, but he has been. It's helpful, to be able to fly without worrying about anyone seeing and the whole illusion of people with abilities being shattered— it already was a long time ago.

—-

"Mamba I didn't know was comin' 'til it was here," Trina explains as she starts scouring down pans. She never really worried about the manual labor, and the two years of an increase amount without the benefit of girly hand lotions hasn't done kind things to her hands. They're calloused and rough, but thin enough to make cleaning glasses and fitting in between engine parts an easy task at any rate. "There's a new truck, outfitted and ready to go. Well… nineties new. And then a sedan. Nothin' fancy, but it'll give us somethin' to fall back on. Ain't gettin' any prettier out there." At Peter's comment, Trina's lips curl down into a frown, the creases cutting deep into her cheeks, but she doesn't say anything. It's not her place. Instead, she just turns her head back to the sink and scrubs harder.

—-

"Sounds good," Elena says, smiling a bit at Trina. "We've got a few ops coming up so….granted Gene did well finding us alloy for armor and reinforcement, but better too much than too little. Trina was right about that. She glances over at Peter when he says he's going to go out and look for Hiro again and like the mechanic, she can't help but…well, she doesn't frown. She looks a little contemplative. "Jack and Prime are preparing for their secret op…." This one she isn't too happy with, but she trusts them both to come back alive. "I'm running around all day today with Eric shadowing, and Papa's got some business in Lancaster Electronics. I don't know where Ali is, and Gene usually just stays here but if you need help tracking someone down, you should talk to him, see if he can't give you any ideas. Also…you ought to bring one of our communicators, in case something goes wrong." She gives him a look. A look that leaves no room for argument. "If you still have the note Hiro sent you in Japanese, you can see if Gene can't have one of his programs translate it."

She looks between the two. "If I get the info today we'll know when we can go grab Cass. I think we'll need the Pearl on this one, if you're willing to drive, Trina. Peter…" She hesitates, but she continues. "Cass would probably like to see you once she's in our hands." She digs into her eggs. "If you wanna ride with us for the pick-up, we have the space." Since the Pearl is GIGANTIC.

—-

"I can take a communicator, sure," Peter says with a nod, after he downs a fork full of eggs and cheese. Food is something he'll always enjoy— he usually cooks for himself, but he loves cooking for other people, too. "Um— it's still in the pigeon coup, but…" He consentrates for a few moments and then— poof. There's suddenly an origami …crane? in his hand. Putting his fork down, he unfolds it. There's Japanese, and right on top of it is a scrawled note in a pen: HIRO, I CAN NOT READ JAPANESE.

Um… "I wrote on it— that might make translating it a little difficult…" But, there it is.

As he's invited to ride in the vehicle, he hesitates a moment, and then nods. "Sure. If you want me, I'll be there— at least I'll be able to heal her if she's been hurt— or any of you if something goes wrong." It's one thing he can do— sometimes.

—-

Trina doesn't look up. Instead, she simply sets the wet pan she's been working on beside her on the counter. Then it's onto the skillet. She just chimes in when she's asked something. "I was in 'fore you asked, Laney."

—-

"Awesome." This said to Trina. Elena furrows her brows a little bit at her eggs. As if she could divine from its yellowy cheesy goodness what the hell Jack and Prime are planning that they need to keep it from the rest of the crew. But she tries to push it out of her mind. She takes another mouthful of eggs.

And then, the origami crane appears. She almost forgot Peter has Jack's power. She blinks when the young man unfolds it, and sees that he wrote on it. She…well. The expression on her face is almost comical, and she SIGHS.

"Well, hell," she grumbles. "I guess nothing in life can be easy anymore, can't it?" Still, they ought to try. Maybe Gene will find it a challenge.

She nods at what Peter says. "Alright, Benji says that he might break out some other people too, so depending on how that goes…" There might be injuries, there might not. She pushes away from the counter. "I'll get you one of our bluetooths. Be careful with it, yeah? It's one of Gene's." And with that she'll head out for a few moments to get one.

—-

"Sorry— I didn't think I'd need to get it translated. I just figured the next one he'd leave in English," Peter says, looking sheepish at the comical look. "I'll do what I can." With the healing. That's really all he can ever promise. As she moves to go and get him a bluetooth, with hints that he should be careful with it, he nods, "I was careful with the one I borrowed for the Bat Country trip— though I'll have to remember to pocket it before I start flying around." Because it might fall off his ear if he goes flying with it on.

Finishing off a few more fork fulls of eggs, he stands up to join Trina again. "I'm glad you enjoyed the breakfast."

—-

There's a small smile as Trina casts a glance in Peter's direction. It's a brief glance. There's dishes waiting and she's still not entirely sure of how to handle herself around the latest addition to the clan. "'fore everythin' got crazy, back when he had time, Jack used to cook. And tell me you, that man can cook." Her head tilts, blue eyes fixing themselves on a particularly stubborn bit of sausage residue. "Eggs. Sausage. Real butter 'n' toast. Baked, too. Rolls and biscuits and little bits of wonder in a pan." Her brow creases. "You know how it is when you smell somethin' or taste somethin', sometimes? Reminds you of somethin' else. Real food reminds me a little of how it used to be. Sometimes it's *hard* to remember."

—-

"Didn't know Jack cooked, but it doesn't surprise me," Peter says, remembering the fact that when someone happens to be a bachelor living on their own… they better learn how to cook. That's why he did. There's something in what she said that makes his expression a little more serious, and he pauses to look at her before he reaches to help with the clean up. She has the dishes, he'll put away the uncooked food. "Guess it wouldn't be so bad— to try to bring back some of what used to be, even if just… makes it easier to remember…" he speaks in softened tones, sounding rather serious, even if there's a hint of that lopsided smile gracing his mouth. While he puts the remaining eggs away, he adds, "I see you have potatoes— so tomorrow I'll make hashbrowns."

—-

At that, Trina laughs out loud. No one to hear it now except the pair of them, so it has to be alright. "Between you and that chef Eric's got runnin' 'round this posh little joint, we're gonna be spoiled little balls of lard in no time. Because Lord only knows, if you cook it, we're sure as hell gonna eat it."

—-

It's good to hear laughter. Peter's smiling as he puts the eggs away, and wraps up what wasn't cooked of the meats to put them back in the freezer. "Well, the way you ladies eat? Yeah— you need that chef and me both— but I'll leave lunch and dinners to him. I used to cook breakfast for my dinner all the time— it's my favorite meal." He's like IHOP. And he doesn't eat meat, so there's so much he can still make without adding any meat at all. Well— he doesn't eat meat anymore. Used to.

—-

Another pan done, Trina now moves on to plates. They're easier, and she flies now that she's got the heavy scrubbing out of the way. "Tell you what, Eric's right. Every house needs one of you. I don't know how anyone can stay frownin' for long with you in the room once you start smilin' and cookin'." And Elena's not here to tell them how, so nanny nanny boo boo. "Well, you you. Not the …now you." Pause. "Or however the hell that works."

—-

"Well— just means I need to hang out with Prime a little more," Peter says to continue the same joke that he'd had, but then his expression becomes a little more serious as he finishes putting away the meats. Mmmm. "I've been wondering about that— what made me so different." It's bothering him— what happened to turn him into this man that they all kind of hate. And from what he's heard he can't really blame them at all.

—-

She's got a small box with the communicator in it, after making sure it works - hence it took her a while to get back. Elena's on her way back to the kitchen area when strains of the conversation drift to her direction. She pauses, not pushing the doors open to get inside yet.

—-

"I don't know," Trina replies with a small shrug. "He was supposed to kill Sylar, but apparently that didn't happen… If you can believe what that bitch, Kate, says." Yeah, they don't really like each other. Anyway. "Maybe he just got all eaten up by the guilt of knowin' he didn't. S'hard to tell how anybody'd act knowin' they were livin' a lie like that. All I know is that he stopped bein' anybody I wanted to know the day he punched Jack for standin' up for the people that he was just leadin' onto the field to get killed. I mean, mission after mission, and he was the only one comin' back." There's a frown and then Trina sniffs once to keep her temper in check. No use breaking anything. "We may not have all the powers that he does, but we can at least keep most of our people alive. And when they go, we sure as hell don't just call it the cost of doin' business."

—-

There's a wince. It's true that dying isn't easy for him, but— "That doesn't sound like me at all," Peter says with a shake of his head. In fact, just hearing that he would say something like that about anyone at all? It hurts and makes little sense. What the hell happened? If it wasn't Sylar dying— there's only one thing he can think of that would make him turn into something… like this. "Well— least it's not inevitable. Not for me at least. I don't to become that."

—-

Trina pretty much covers it. Elena could've forgiven him for marrying the unhinged homewrecking detective who abandoned her mother's case (though Ramon never did), but the way he was handling his own operations was the dealbreaker. All those people dead. His connection with Jack souring didn't help any, but the last straw had been the lie. Whatever hope she had left for the Peter of Now reclaiming his more heroic self was gone.

She pushes the doors open, stepping inside and walking over to the both of them. "Here," she tells Peter, pushing the box towards him. "I already taught you how to work it."

—-

And from down the hall, towards the direction of the garage…comes a deep sounding FOOMPH! Though no explosions at least, no flame, just a bit of smoke an noise.

YES! ERIC IS JUST FINE!

—-

"I hope you don't," Trina replies simply, finally shutting off the water as her work is done. Picking up a towel, she begins drying everything. "It just ain't you that—" When Elena pushes the door open, the mechanic promptly shuts back up. She knows better than to talk about it around Elena. At the sound of the explosion, her look promptly becomes one of sheer terror. At the intercom announcement, that terror becomes one of agitation. "YOU'D BETTER NOT! ELSE YOU'RE GONNA FIND YOURSELF WITH A BRAND NEW ASSHOLE." No one hurts The Babies and lives. Well. Okay. Not MANY hurt the Babies and live. She continues to mutter. "Hope you heard that."

—-

Dot.
Dot.
Dot.

Elena stares at the exchange through the intercom, and Trina's cry blasting through the kitchen like a fog horn.

There is a pause, and she leans to the side slightly, murmuring from the corner of her mouth at Peter.

"…mebbe you better stay out of the garage," is the helpful advice given.

—-

With the communicator in hand, Peter tucks it into his pocket for now— safer than on his ear, before he nods, "Thanks." It's handy, at least, having a way to contact them if anything really goes wrong— like if he runs into his brother or another member of his staff. Still, Trina didn't finish, "Ain't just me that…?" He should probably realize that she shut up for more than just being interupted— especially since she just got done yelling. …stay out of the garage. "I don't have a car, so I don't… see much reason to be there…"

—-

The intercom pops up again. "I heard! I heard! Not even a scratch to any of yours!" Eric's voice is hurried as he does his best to try to calm down Trina.

—-

Her 'friendly' advice given, Trina resigns herself to finish drying and putting dishes away with the neutral expression that betrays that she is trying to keep to her own council. And then Eric has to KEEP TALKING, and that smooth facade breaks. "GOOD," she finally shoots back to the intercom, slamming one of the cabinet doors shut.

—-

Elena bites back a grin. She reaches over to patpat Trina lightly on the shoulder. "I better go make sure he didn't ….blow his face off," she says, easing from the counter and stretching her arms idly over her head. "Hopefully Benji got that info for us. He said he was giving it up as soon as he possibly can." Hey, she's doing Trina a favor yanking Eric out of the garage! To Peter, she looks at him seriously. "Be careful out there, if you really do intend to look for Hiro."

—-

"I'm not planning to get myself captured. I'll be fine," Peter says, inclining his chin towards Elena as she goes to check on Eric. There's hope he really is okay, at least. He's not a terrible person who wishes ill on him— even if he is a rival. Looking towards Trina, he repeats his question, "What were you saying? Before Elena came in?"

—-

As Elena goes to check on the garage — its really best for all involved that she be the one to do so, Trina is left to answer Peter's question. She's quiet for a moment. "I— I don't remember," she finally lies, avoiding eye contact with him for the time being.

—-

With just the two of them in the room, Peter looks towards her when she claims she doesn't remember. There's strong clues that isn't the case, though, because she's avoiding eye contact with him. Hesitating, he continues to clean up. "So— um— anything that you want me to tell you when I get back? A lot of people are giving me messages… I'm like a… messanger pigeon of time, or something."

—-

"Not a thing," Trina replies, turning her head to smile at Peter, grateful for the escape out of the conversation. "Between me an' you? If you make it back, you'll either make this go away or you won't. If you do, then I don't want to ever know this hell hole existed. If you don't, then I… I think I'm better off not findin' out how… how *bad* it gets." She grabs a pile of plates after opening a cabinet, delicately stacking them inside. "I mean… We ain't goin' crazy, right? It *is* bad. It *was* a lot better? 'fore the war. 'fore the storm. It wasn't perfect, I know, but it was *better*?"

—-

There's a nod and Peter can't help but run a hand through his hair, "Have to admit, I sometimes wish I had no idea what happened to me here— so I can understand not wanting to know about it." It's not a good thing to know how much of an asshole he's capable of becoming— same with his brother, doing so much bad in the world, and trying to justify it as necessary. "Well— nothing's perfect. Even if I go back and stop the war and the storm— there'll always be something else. Isn't the first time this world's nearly been destroyed because of one thing— last time it was a nuclear bomb in the middle of the city— this time it's a war and torandos… next time it might be that virus." Whatever happened with that? "There'll always be something."

—-

Trina nods and smiles. It's a hollow, empty looking thing, but it's there, sitting on her face as a mark of appreciation for Peter's honesty in the face of her lie. "But it's always easy to keep marchin' when you think the next step's gonna be the last one you gotta take. And like I said before. Just gotta keep believin' that, in the end, it's all gonna be alright. Otherwise, you just give up."

—-

"It will be alright," Peter repeats what she says, that hopeful look returning to his eyes. He'd lost it for a time, when he saw how certain people looked at him, when his brother shot him three times— but now— now things are getting a little better. And not because a certain someone is talking to him again. Not just anyway. "I can't… really believe this place would just cease to exist when I leave— because I couldn't have been here if it never existed…" And it wouldn't have helped him stop what could happen if it didn't exist— time travel is so complicated. "Not sure when I'll leave— whenever I find out enough about the storms and the war, but… when I do, do you think you could… do me a favor?"

—-

Maybe it's the result of hanging out with the much older Jack. Maybe it's the culmination of her own hellish coming of age. Whatever it is, Trina sometimes acts much older than she has any right to act, even moreso than the far sharper lieutenant that is Elena. It is that maturity alone, hard and cold, that allows her to not be disheartened by the possibility that — even if the man in front of her succeeds — this world may yet remain. When Peter asks his question, therefore, she considers him carefully before answering. "Yeah." The fact that she doesn't even ask what it is first will have to remain a sign of trust most likely lost on the displaced Petrelli.

—-

There's a long pause, as if Peter's hesitating a little on his request. Probably is. "When I go back, can you make sure that… Elena lets herself be happy? She's— working so hard for the Saints and ignoring what she might want for herself… not that this is wrong, really, just… she's missing out on a lot of things that— you and Jack have." It's a little embarassing to say this, especially since he's pretty much giving her over to Eric when he says this. There's a slow breath and he looks away before he adds, "I'm probably going to tell her the same thing a bunch of times before I go, but… maybe you could make sure she actually listens." When he looks back up, there's that lopsided smile again.

—-

"I can tell her. It don't mean she'll listen, honey, but I— " So much is already ruined. Destroyed beyond repair. But she gave her word. "I'll try." And then there's a flicker of a maternal smile, not as honed as Candy's but there, Trina lifting up her hand once more to lightly tap him on the nose. "Don't change more'n you gotta when you go back to do this all over again. For what it's worth? I like this you. 'n' I really hope I get to meet you someday." Taking the dish towel off of her shoulder, the mechanic sets it back down and starts heading out. "Jack already ain't supposed to be home tonight. If you're gonna be late, lemme know. I worry."

—-

"Yeah— I don't expect her to listen too well either, but if more people tell her— maybe she will," Peter pushes the single curl on his forehead out of the way before he drops the apron off back into the closet (nothing really got on it anyway) and cleans up the last the kitchen mess. "I won't get that bad, I hope. And hopefully we'll get to offically meet when I get back— pretty good friends with Jack— no punching yet— so it'll probably happen." He likes this him too— the person he keeps hearing about— that isn't who he wants to be. At her worry, he nods, then taps on his pocket, "I'll send you a message if it looks like I won't make it back before dark, promise." Only reason he wouldn't is if he's dead— which could mean they'll have to come looking for him anyway. Hopefully these things have a homing beacon. "I'm going to head on out," he adds, before starting towards the door. Long day gets shorter when there's no reliable public transportation.

—-

Dying would put a significant dent in her meeting him before the whole world got flushed into the Manhattan sewer system. That is, thus, not allowed. Peter makes it to the door before she does, which leaves Trina to fall in line behind him as she makes her own way to an elsewhere with her silent, bare padded step. "Be careful."

—-

"Better go make sure those cars really don't have a scratch in them," Peter says, teasing her as she will probably be going in the opposite direction. Don't mind that he reaches out and touches her arm. It's a sign of friendly affection. If he doesn't touch your arm, he probably doesn't like you.

—-

"Where do you think I'm headed?" Trina replies with a smile before finally turning in said direction. So help her God, if Eric put one Gawdamned mark on Baby…

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