[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

[dissemble]

[Lucifer is here for two reasons. The first is that he is playing hide and seek with his brother Michael, and must hide. The second is to ensure that everyone in the Mansion loves him more than the smaller Michael. It was important to be most loved.

So he does not debate whether Pie Maker is this man's true name.

He raises his arms to the Pie Maker, the universal sign requesting to be lifted up.]

What kind of pies are you making?

[wordvomit]

[Ned, who does not care for children nor does he care for touching - let alone both of those things combined, because the former's inherent stickiness would contribute greatly to the discomfort of the latter - stares down at the small child with outstretched arms and feels a singular pang of guilt.

The Universal Sign Requesting to be Lifted Up does not escape him, but he makes no move to acquiesce to the request.]

Fruit pies, mostly.

[A beat.]

...who are you?

[dissemble]

[It takes him a moment to realise that the Pie Maker is not intending to lift him up. Lucifer is concerned by this- the other small Michael had said that not all people in this mansion loved him, but he'd refused to believe that because everyone loved him.

He keeps his arms raised, determined.]

Don't you love me?

[wordvomit]

[Put on the spot and concerned that the child might suddenly raise a fuss - which Ned is not qualified to handle by any stretch of the imagination - the Pie Maker flounders and stares down at the child in abject terror.]

I...don't know you?

[dissemble]

[Worse and worse. Small tears appear in the corner of his eyes, crocodile tears for now, in the knowledge that such tactics have worked for him before.

He sniffles.] I'm Lucifer.

[wordvomit]

[Tears. God in Heaven, the demanding little hellion is crying. Mouth twitching, Ned leans back against the counter, looking for an escape upon introduction.

A tiny, sobbing Lucifer. He can only imagine the tantrums.]

Well...it's...very nice to meet you, um, but I have a...thing. About touching. So...I can give you a- uh, cookie?

[dissemble]

[Still sniffling, Lucifer drops his hands to wipe at his eyes.

His voice quavers, and there may or may not be snot dripping out of his nose.] What kind of cookie?

[wordvomit]

[Ned's expression is one of barely-suppressed revulsion, because he's not certain he understands the appeal of children and he's not sure that he ever will. Slobbery, messy things that he would undoubtedly fail the same way his father failed him.]

...chocolate chip?

[But placating them with sweets might do nicely.]

[dissemble]

[There is a spark of hope in his tiny tear-filled eyes.]

I've never had a cookie before.

[wordvomit]

[Having already retrieved the cookie in question, Ned wraps it in a napkin and extends it to the child from the relative distance of their height difference.]

Um. First time for everything.

[Now shoo.]

[dissemble]

[With sparkling eyes, the child accepts the cookie. The room seems to grow bright. Ned might even hear the faint sounds of heavenly choirs singing.]

How do you make them?

[That was the strange thing with humans. They had to make things and it took a long time.]