A boy named Sous

Priestly woke up slowly and blinked sleepily at the ceiling of the hotel suite. It was nice and dark at the moment, only little bits of sun peeking in around the drawn curtains, so he wasn't sure yet if he had a hangover. How drunk had he gotten last night? He really liked champagne.

He turned his head and looked at Dinah, just starting to wake up next to him. He wasn't usually the one to wake up first, but hey. This wasn't Fandom. It wasn't the end of a weird weekend. They'd been entirely themselves last night, just drunk on champagne and romance. That might have been a first. He wasn't sure. He'd lost track of their hookups over the years.

When Dinah woke up, they'd play-by-play it, laugh at themselves, and marvel that at least they weren't on the beach or in a warehouse. They'd suffer the teasing and curious questions from the shippers -- he was pretty sure they'd escaped upstairs before any hanky-panky started, and this was New Gotham, not Fandom, so there were no squirrels reporting on anything. She'd go back to detecting and he'd go back to cooking and getting ready for summer classes, and life would return to normal.

"Ah, fuck it," he said, and rolled over to kiss Dinah awake.

Normal was overrated.

[for she who's been modded. And SP.]

"Alright, Mr. Priestly," the doctor said, holding up a cast saw. "You ready to get this thing off you?"

"I cannot possibly express how much," Priestly said. "Do you have any idea how much these things itch?"

The doctor laughed. "Actually, I do. You'd be amazed how many pens and rulers and things end up under casts. Especially full leg ones." He gave Priestly a sharp look. "But you're too smart for that, right?"

"I am, but I can't promise my red panda didn't jam anything in there while I slept."

". . . What?"

"So, cast! Let's get that saw buzzing!"

[ooc: possibly kind of late, but whatevs. Open for one expected, and any phone calls and messages that want to be dropped in!]

"I told you, man," Priestly said, leading the way into the spa. "There's no such thing as a city in America that doesn't have at least one sauna. It's basically a rule." He flipped over the little pamphlet. "This one apparently does infrared." He frowned a little at the slightly silly list of purported health benefits -- wound healing? really? -- then shrugged. So long as it was nice and warm. "Plus, private saunas. Don't have to worry about a bunch of sweaty old naked men." Which, you know, was always a bonus.

[ooc: expecting one!]

Priestly wasn't generally the sort to call out from a shift without being, like, dead or recovering therefrom (it was a little sad that he knew that about himself), but he'd've been sorely tempted to, today. As it was, most of the staff had commented that he looked "like shit on toast, dude" and a few customers had politely asked for a different server.

Yeah, it was the best day ever.

He tried not to rub at his eyes as he looked over the diner, keeping an eye out for one customer in particular and trying not to obviously look at the other customers who should be scattered about, laying low and ready to jump in if things went terribly.

He was not cut out for this sneaky stuff. After this, he was going somewhere where he didn't have to be sneaky at all for awhile.

[ooc: for plot buddies!]

Priestly had never worked at a place as large as this diner before. It was a bit of an adjustment -- especially when you factored in going from managing Luke's in Fandom to being a lowly peon here -- but he liked his coworkers well enough, no one tried to stick things in his hair, and there were even a few regulars he'd gotten to know working the lunch counter on the days he didn't have afternoon classes. New Gotham was almost as full of lovable weirdoes as Santa Cruz had been, which was good, as they needed the lovable ones to balance out the criminally insane ones.

And, hey, if harmlessly flirting with the hot cougar who came in every now and then to order a late lunch to go for her and her "business associates" got him a bigger tip, that was even better. She liked to stop and chat for a bit while she waited for her order, and Priestly always kept her coffee full and the compliments running while she did. Carlos, the usual lunch time cook, liked to tease Priestly about how he had to keep his dates straight so Dinah wouldn't find out he was cheating on her with an old lady, but Priestly was so used to getting grief from the kitchen staff that he barely noticed.

He did kind of miss troubleshooting Fandom's occasional harmless jaunts into the surreal, though. A lunch rush just wasn't the same if you didn't have an eagle turning into a naked mayor at the counter.

[ooc: for Them That Knows]

Hey, you've reached Priestly. Aren't you lucky! I'm not around to take your call, but you probably know what to do.

*beep*

Saturday was Shebaday. What did that mean? Well, mostly it meant that she didn't work on Saturdays. Dean was on shift at the diner and she had zero classes, and she gave herself the day off from paperwork and homework, too.

She even, sometimes, gave herself the day off from cooking.

She loved cooking. Adored it. It was her art. But that didn't mean she didn't sometimes want to just sit in front of the TV and eat three bowls of Corn Pops with whole milk in a row. There was a Galaxy Quest marathon to watch (Netflix meant there was always a Galaxy Quest marathon to watch), plus she'd found a collection of Australian cartoons that promised to be oblique, impenetrable, or awesome, or potentially all of the above. And a documentary about life in rural Russia called "Happy People" that she'd been saving for a lazy day.

She threw the windows open wide, put on eyeliner despite not bothering to change out of her pajama pants, grabbed a carton of milk, a box of cereal, and a giant bottle of cranberry cocktail, and settled in for veg out. Stevesie even obliged her by curling up on her lap and eating the pops that spilled over the side of her bowl.

Shebaday was the best day ever.

[ooc: expecting particular visitors, but also open]

So Priestly's class today had been cancelled in honor of Columbus Day. Which would be why Priestly was sitting at the kitchen island with his laptop, composing a long winded, honestly kind of insufferably preachy email to his study group about how terrible Columbus really was.

Because what else was he going to do with a random day off? Accomplish things?

Pfffft.

[ooc: expecting one, but also open to roommate/visitors if they're inclined.]

So apparently post-war on Dinah looked just a smidge clingy. Not that Priestly was objecting. Not even a little. He was still enjoying having her there and safe too much to worry about how much snuggling and petting was going on.

They'd marathoned Doctor Sexy yesterday, spent this evening watching bad kitchen reality shows, surrounded by junk food and soda (and veggies and water, because this was Priestly, here). Priestly had put several tiny braids in Dinah's hair and they'd done each other's nails, and then crashed out fairly early, Priestly steering Dinah over to the bed when she started falling asleep on the couch, reading a bit of Anthony Bourdain while serving as a body pillow before finally drifting off himself.

[ooc: for she who is mentioned in the narrative. Content note: will contain PTSD and memories/dreams of animal aggression and NPC character death.]

Saturdaaaaay, wait. Sunday always comes to late! But Friday never hesitates. . . .

Also known as "Bella tries to pick only four Jennifer Lawrence gifs."

( Raven Darkholme )

( Pinkie Pie )

( Priestly )

( Bella )