[OPEN, DINER CATCH-ALL] war, children, it's just a shot away

[wordvomit]

Who: EVERYONE (Yes, even Mirrors.)
Where: Eighth Floor Diner
When: 12/18
Rating: PG to PG-13
Summary: With the help of a Japanese schoolgirl, one man overcomes his neurosis and invites literally everyone to the diner.
The Story:

[Ned wasn't optimistic at the beginning - matter of fact, Ned never starts out thinking optimistically about anything, simply as a force of habit. Healthy paranoia, often misconstrued as abject pessimism, is what weighs heavily on the Pie Maker on a daily basis.

Adding actual monsters - ones different from him, who are much larger and fictional and hungry - to the mix only serves to amplify his anxiety.

It comes as something of a relief when Tohru recommends barricading the windows and stockpiling supplies, blankets, an assortment of foodstuffs and some First Aid, all of which are suggestions Ned undertakes with enthusiasm and the assistance of his diner-mates.

Now, with all the tables upturned strategically and the blinds drawn, he's almost elated they had the foresight to work things out early as a new transmission hits the public sphere.

He sends out another message almost immediately, this one Mansion-wide.]

IF ANYONE NEEDS A SAFE PLACE AND YOU CAN'T MAKE IT TO THE CLINIC OR LIBRARY

COME TO THE DINER ON THE EIGHTH FLOOR

WE HAVE FOOD* AND SHELTER IN THE EVENT OF CATASTROPHE

*But please be patient with that, there's only a couple of us working the kitchen.

[The Pie Maker, who loathes close proximity and sometimes gets claustrophobic, almost regrets hitting SEND.

Almost.]






NOTE: This is OPEN MINGLE CATCH-ALL, anyone and everyone can meet up with their friends/family/associates in the diner if they need a safe place to stay and don't want to leap willy-nilly after Her Highness into the Rabbit Hole it's ironic because the diner is called The Rabbit Hole.

Comments

[wordvomit]

Uh.

[With his fractured and bitter recollections of what constitutes as a truly terrible childhood, Ned feels somewhat guilty for putting the kid on the spot. As a notoriously quiet child, he understands how intimidating adults (and, in particular, six-feet-and-three-inches tall adults) can be.]

Cooling pies. Mostly.

[A beat.]

Do you...want a cookie?

[what_he_needs_less]

[The man baking the pies was tall, the tallest man he'd ever seen, but it wasn't his height that intimidated him. Rather, that he seemed so confident in what he was doing, like he belonged there, and Michael did not.]

Pies? Did you make all of those yourself?

[He can't help but be impressed, and then he remembers that the man just offered him a sweet.]

Oh, yes. I would like one. Did you make those, too?

[wordvomit]

I make all the pies here,

[he replies nonchalantly, with half of a shrug. It's kind of his thing. Ned taps one of the chocolate-chip cookies on a wire rack - they came out not long ago, and they look cool enough to handle.

Dropping one on a napkin he bends comically at the waist to present it to the kid.]

The chips are hot. Don't eat it all at once.

[what_he_needs_less]

[Michael reaches out and takes the cookie, thinking that Ned sure was nice to let him have one.]

Thank you, sir.

[He nods, he knew his manners, and takes a small bite of the cookie. At the first taste, he wants to shove the whole thing in his mouth, but he doesn't. The tall pie guy wouldn't think well of him if he did that.]

It's really good.

[wordvomit]

[Look, Ned wouldn't blame the kid, but burning the roof of your mouth is terrible and he wouldn't recommend it.]

I- um. Thanks. And you don't have to call me 'sir.'

[The Pie Maker extends another cookie and wonders what the protocol is for shooing children out of one's kitchen.]

Try not to get into trouble.

[what_he_needs_less]

I'll try not to.

[Michael holds the cookie carefully, so he can take it with him. Smiling, he turns to walk quickly out of the kitchen, stops and waves goodbye.]

Have a good day, pie man.

[Then, he practically runs out of the kitchen, eating the cookie as he goes.]