[OPEN] your very own mental breakdown

[wordvomit]

Who: Ned the Pie Maker and YOU
Where: first-floor kitchen
When: FIRST DAY OF THE EVENT; June 27th
Rating: PG to PG-13
Summary: kjsbdjLKADHJFKMWHY
The Story:

Why?

[Ned awoke to the event feeling the same way he does every other day when he wakes up: normal, slightly sluggish, and needing a quiet jolt of caffeine to his system. The abnormality in the early morning rise came in the form of a bona-fide swarm of diminutive dogs - puppies, to be exact - all of whom looked exactly like miniature versions of Digby.

But it isn't the frequent in-kitchen canine collisions that have him so bent out of shape, like a pipe cleaner twisted too far to be returned to its original perfectly pointy and straight form. No, it is that Ned has retrieved his usual assortment of rotten fruit from a special cooler in the back, intending to bake them into today's batch of pies, and that his first touch to a particularly moldy strawberry has yielded...

...nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The power that has plagued him, consumed his life and dictated his actions for so long, is simply...gone. That cannot be, he thinks, reaching for a handful of blueberries and, for his troubles, receives nothing more than mildew and mush.]

No.

[The kiwis, the bananas, the cherries and apples. All of them, the same result. All of them varying unappetizing shades of brown, gray, and green.

Ned is not yet certain what frustrates him more, the fact that his terrifying Gift refuses to work in a place where no one knows him, or the fact that his terrifying Gift refuses to work and he isn't at home in The Pie Hole, with Chuck, pulling her into a kiss to celebrate his ability to touch her the way he never could.]

No, no no no...no, not here. Why- ...why?! Why now? Why not- wh-why not...

[Why not at home, where it really matters most?]

Comments

[appealingavarice]

[Greed's a little preoccupied with his stupid always-hungry body and the strangeness of dogs seeming to like him, but he's not so preoccupied that he doesn't smell the rotten fruits. For a moment he's worried that might be part of the event, but no, his pretzels are completely fine, so...]

I think you've been staring at those things too long.

[wordvomit]

Yes!

[Ned nearly bellows, rounding on the next entrant into the kitchen, agreeing with him wholeheartedly.]

Yes, I- I...I agree, it's- a travesty! A real- real tragedy, here...in the kitchen. Today. I can't bake pies with this-

[He makes a small, tight gesture toward the fruit.]

-this stuff. You are absolutely right.

[appealingavarice]

[...okay, that was a weird enough reaction to get the remainder of Greed's attention away from the little mob of tiny mutts on and around his feet.]

Are you going to get some better ones?

[wordvomit]

...Of course.

[Ned clears his throat and hastily scrambles to shove most of the fruit off of the counter and into the nearest rubbish bin, finding himself more than extremely unsettled that none of the berries are brightening under his fingers.

Just dead fruit.

Beneath normal hands.]

and then I fell off the world for a while, sorry

[appealingavarice]

[Greed is a nosy person by nature- part of wanting everything is wanting to know everything, after all. If Wonderland's taught him anything it's that some worlds are beyond any kind of rational understanding, but that only causes a few moments' delay, watching this strange man clearing away his rotten food, before he starts getting curiosity everywhere.]

Did they come that way? [Because, joking aside, he doubts someone could just stare at fruits long enough for them to go bad.] I hope they didn't come that way, if the food's fucked up I'm going to be pissed...

nah, s'cool!

[wordvomit]

[Conversely, Ned is a private person by nature. He shares little, he talks little, he takes up as little space as he possibly can. He is the sort of person who has a lot to lose in volunteering information about himself, so he avoids contact as though it were a cloud of malaria-carrying mosquitoes.]

I don't...think so, maybe it's just- I think it was just a house thing. I bake pies a lot, the kitchen is weird.

[Velvety-smooth response, Ned.

He starts wiping up putrid fruit juice.]

[appealingavarice]

[Greed checks for himself anyway. He's really going to need there to be food, after all. But a perfectly good apple comes out of the pantry first try, so that's fine.

He does scowl at one of the puppies when it goes after a fallen piece of fruit.] Hey, don't eat that, it's gross-

[wordvomit]

[Ned, with the unconscious reflexes of a jungle cat, sweeps in to pick up the puppy with one hand and wipe up the fruit with another. For his troubles, he gets a soft, wet tongue licking the underside of his jaw as he disposes of the offending paper towel.

Another careful dance in Converse sneakers around the kitchen island sees him placing the small retriever down gently on clean tile while reaching for a bottle of Clorox spray.]

...Puppy crisis averted. Um. Good apple?

[World's best conversationalist right here.]

[appealingavarice]

[That is a cute thing that puppy just did. Greed's not used to puppies doing cute things, unless they're growling at him in an especially cute way. He hasn't built up any tolerance.

Which is to say, he's slightly starry-eyed right now in a way he would never admit to, and which has nothing to do with the apple. Tasty though it is.]

Yep. Must've just been you.

[But he puts it down on a table instead of taking another bite, because PUPPY.]

[wordvomit]

Uh...yeah, guess so,

[he hazards warily, and has to wonder why the aggressive swearer has suddenly started staring at him intently. It must be the puppy. It had better be the puppy.]

[appealingavarice]

[Oh, it's definitely the puppy. Not that this guy isn't weird, but there's going to be a limited window of opportunity for puppies, and Greed stoops to pick one up before he sits.]

Name's Greed, by the way.

[wordvomit]

Ned,

[he replies succinctly, wishing that his new kitchen buddy hadn't decided to settle so prominently at the counter. All he wants is to be alone.]

The...resident Pie Maker. I guess.

[appealingavarice]

[Well, if he doesn't ask for what he wants, how can he expect to get it? Greed's just sitting back, getting his face licked and totally ignoring any hints.]

Yeah? Any- ah- [Okay, mostly the face-licking is fine, but he's going to have to draw the line at his open mouth.] -any good?