You're trying to make me turn redder. [She's aiming for accusatory, but there's banked mirth in her voice that bubbles over into a laugh. As if it wasn't already abundantly clear that she enjoys his cheekiness.
She meets his eyes when he takes a quick glance in her direction, a smile lingering on her lips. There's a hint of surprise in her gaze as she listens to him talk, and there's no disappointment in it. Just a genuine understand.]
You're really one of a kind, you know that? [There's some fondness in her voice when she answers him, shaking her head a little. She lets her chin perch on her hand again, quiet and thoughtful for a moment.] I appreciate that you get it. And I do trust you. Feels worth saying.
[He seems a little surprised at that and offers a little shrug in response, a lifetime of being told he was nothing more than east london trash makes it hard for him to accept such praise so he tries to skip past it. Coming over to kiss her forehead softly.]
[Karen hums a note of agreement, her eyes following him as he moves around the island. She turns towards him as he approaches, her head tipping up to welcome the kiss on her forehead.
The corner of her mouth twitches in a little smile when he returns the sentiment, and she catches one of his belt loops with her index finger for a moment to keep him there. She's just an inch or two shorter than her usual 5'10 perched on the high top seat.]
I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. You show up on purpose. Your actions back up your words. And I can tell you're proud that your word means something, and you should be.
[The way she snags his belt loops makes him smile, he likes a woman who isn't afraid to reach out and take what she wants and he kisses his way down from her forehead to her cheeks and then lips. Kissing her slowly and with purpose.]
[Karen's chuckling a little at the way he's kissing his way down her face, charmed by the deliberate way he's going about it. She leans into the kiss, letting her lips part so she can deepen it, relishing the moment. Her finger slips free from his belt loop so she can rest her hands on his waist, sliding them around to run warmly along his back.]
[There's a pink tint in her cheeks when he breaks the kiss, but she's smiling a bit as she feels his forehead lean in against hers. She tips her head a bit to nudge the side of her nose against his, dropping a last kiss onto his mouth before she leans back in her chair.]
We should absolutely put a bookmark in that for after dinner, though.
[Karen's smiling to herself as she watches the way he seems to reluctantly move away, her eyes lingering on his back as he returns to the stove.
Her head tips a bit as she considers his question, and more importantly, the word choice inherent in it.] Uh, if we apply a fairly loose definition to 'hang out with,' I'd say two. If you want to know how many I've either worked with or know how to get in touch with if shit hits the fan...
[She trails off for a moment, running through a mental list.] That number would be five. Or six, actually, because there's a nurse I know that provides medical assistance for vigilantes and powered individuals. She does incredible work. And um, there's one that is...presently incarcerated in The Raft that I know but would not consider reaching out to. [A beat.] My life is pretty weird.
[The tone seems to say 'yeah, I can hardly believe it either.'
She can't help but laugh a little at his question, though she does consider her answer.]
Uh, well, I know Frank Castle. The Punisher. I'm pretty sure that moniker is more a matter of convenience for him than anything else. The Iron Fist is the only one I know of that really loves the name. I think that one's technically a hereditary title? [One shoulder lifts in a shrug.] For the most part, everyone else just uses their names.
[Karen looks amused at the suggestion that The Punisher sounds like an 80s wrestler name. She doesn't disagree. She sounds entertained when she answers,] he'd get a kick out of that. [After a moment, she continues.] He's a marine. Got tangled up doing black ops for the CIA while he was deployed. I don't think he ever really came back from the war. [It's helpful context. And moreover, she's pretty sure it's a concept Alfred will be able to understand, with his own history of service.
She watches, smiling a little as he moves around the kitchen.] Big city. I think they all have different enough...skill sets and interests that it works. Daredevil primarily protects Hell's Kitchen. Luke covers Harlem. And Jessica's a PI too, actually, she just has...unique methods.
[He says softly, his head turned away from Karen so she doesn't see the haunted look in his eyes. She's correct in assuming that he understands what this Punisher bloke has been through, he still has nightmares almost every night about the things he had to do when he was a part of the SAS.]
Well so long as it works, it works.
[He says turning back towards her, snagging a dish towel to dry off his hands.]
And so long as none of them are going to randomly show up and threaten me for taking you out.
[Karen makes the agreement easily, and even though he's turning away from her, she's still watching him. Making note of his body language. Her eyes are still on him when he turns back, even though a hint of a smile appears at the corner of her mouth at his question.]
They know better.
[Which does accurately imply that the vigilantes would get such an earful of shit from her for trying to interfere in her life that they wouldn't even try it. After a moment of silence, she gets up from her seat and rounds the island to join him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling herself in closer to lean against him. She murmurs,] it's hard, but it's not impossible.
[He probably should have known better than to think she wouldn't notice the slight shift in him when talking about the war, she's very perceptive which is probably why she's so good at her job.
Either way he's grateful for her sudden warmth and comfort and he leans into it for a second before wrapping his arms around her, careful of her still tender shoulder.]
No, not impossible.
[He agrees and drops a kiss on the top of her head.]
[Her arms tighten around him when his arms wrap around her, just taking a moment to hold him there. Karen always hugs someone with everything she has, trying to create a silent moment of connection. When she feels his lips press against her hair, she shifts her arm so she can rub her hand against his back.
Leaning back, her eyes scan his as she offers him a genuine smile.]
Shepherd's pie already smells good.
[It's a light change of topic, just so she can make sure he knows she's not planning to wrangle a conversation about his service out of him. She knows that's a hard thing for people to talk about.]
[Karen tips her chin up so she can return the kiss. Her arms unwind from around him so she can frame his face with her hands, brushing her thumbs back along his cheekbones as she leans in to drop one last kiss on his mouth, lingering for just a few seconds. An acknowledgment of his thanks, and an apology in return for bringing that to the forefront of his mind.
At his offer to teach her how to pour the Guinness, she lets her hands drop to his shoulders, giving them a quick gentle squeeze as she grins at him.] Oh, absolutely. Can you grab the glasses? Uh, top shelf, cabinet by the fridge. [One hand trails down along his arm as she turns and moves away, opening the fridge so she can bring the six pack over to the island.]
[He says and moves to grab them each a tall glass, they're not proper Guinness pint style ones but they'll do just fine.]
So what you might not know is that in every can of Guinness there's a ball at the bottom, or a widget as they call it. This is to help make your pour as creamy as possible.
So step one is to open the can but don't start pouring it right away, you have to let it sit for about five seconds.
[One of Karen's brows arches, an obviously intrigued look on her face when he says there's a widget at the bottom of the can.]
How does the ball effect the creaminess of the pour? It has to be bigger than the opening on the can, right? [There's a beat, and she grins at him.] You know I'm going to want to cut the can open after to see what it looks like, right?
[Still, she can table her curiosity for now. She pulls out two of the cans and cracks each one open, letting it settle on the top of the island.] I do remember there's something about the angle of the pour for Guinness, right?
[Karen leans in against him as she feels his arm wrap around her, tipping her head to drop a quick kiss on his jaw in lieu of putting her arm around him. She needs both of her hands free for this Guinness lesson.] Don't worry, I'm not looking to get stitches tonight. I've got an electric can opener that can do most of the work for me.
[Her brow furrows in thought as she listens to him describe the different ways to pour the beer. She holds up one hand, creating a rough 90 degree angle with her index finger and thumb. And then she uses the index finger on her other hand to create a 45 degree angle there, just so she can visualize it.]
Yeah. You're a good teacher, by the way.
[It's worth saying. She takes one of the glasses and shifts the angle, then picks up the can to pour it in, holding it steady.]
[He says, both as way of thanks for her compliment and for when she starts to pour the drink. As she does he slips his hands up her body and onto her arms, ending with them over her hands and gently he guides her in the pour. Tilting both the glass and the can together.]
[One of Karen's brows arches as he shifts behind her, and she can't help but chuckle a little as she feels the way his hands run over. Can't help the little shiver that runs through her either. She lets him guide her hands, her head tipping towards him as she listens to his voice. A small smile quirks her lips.]
I thought we were trying to not get distracted before dinner.
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She meets his eyes when he takes a quick glance in her direction, a smile lingering on her lips. There's a hint of surprise in her gaze as she listens to him talk, and there's no disappointment in it. Just a genuine understand.]
You're really one of a kind, you know that? [There's some fondness in her voice when she answers him, shaking her head a little. She lets her chin perch on her hand again, quiet and thoughtful for a moment.] I appreciate that you get it. And I do trust you. Feels worth saying.
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[He seems a little surprised at that and offers a little shrug in response, a lifetime of being told he was nothing more than east london trash makes it hard for him to accept such praise so he tries to skip past it. Coming over to kiss her forehead softly.]
I trust you too, Karen.
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The corner of her mouth twitches in a little smile when he returns the sentiment, and she catches one of his belt loops with her index finger for a moment to keep him there. She's just an inch or two shorter than her usual 5'10 perched on the high top seat.]
I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. You show up on purpose. Your actions back up your words. And I can tell you're proud that your word means something, and you should be.
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We better stop there or else we won't eat.
[He teases softly.]
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We should absolutely put a bookmark in that for after dinner, though.
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So while you were suffering from 'loose tongue' syndrome, you make it seem you knew more than one vigilante.
[He says as he works.]
Am I allowed to know how many you hang around with?
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Her head tips a bit as she considers his question, and more importantly, the word choice inherent in it.] Uh, if we apply a fairly loose definition to 'hang out with,' I'd say two. If you want to know how many I've either worked with or know how to get in touch with if shit hits the fan...
[She trails off for a moment, running through a mental list.] That number would be five. Or six, actually, because there's a nurse I know that provides medical assistance for vigilantes and powered individuals. She does incredible work. And um, there's one that is...presently incarcerated in The Raft that I know but would not consider reaching out to. [A beat.] My life is pretty weird.
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Bloody hell.
[He muses.]
Do they all have funny names like Devil man or whatever it was?
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[The tone seems to say 'yeah, I can hardly believe it either.'
She can't help but laugh a little at his question, though she does consider her answer.]
Uh, well, I know Frank Castle. The Punisher. I'm pretty sure that moniker is more a matter of convenience for him than anything else. The Iron Fist is the only one I know of that really loves the name. I think that one's technically a hereditary title? [One shoulder lifts in a shrug.] For the most part, everyone else just uses their names.
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[Alfred comments wryly as he slides the shepherds pie into the oven and then goes to wash his hands.]
Kind of weird they're all in one city but I guess the more the merrier hrm?
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She watches, smiling a little as he moves around the kitchen.] Big city. I think they all have different enough...skill sets and interests that it works. Daredevil primarily protects Hell's Kitchen. Luke covers Harlem. And Jessica's a PI too, actually, she just has...unique methods.
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[He says softly, his head turned away from Karen so she doesn't see the haunted look in his eyes. She's correct in assuming that he understands what this Punisher bloke has been through, he still has nightmares almost every night about the things he had to do when he was a part of the SAS.]
Well so long as it works, it works.
[He says turning back towards her, snagging a dish towel to dry off his hands.]
And so long as none of them are going to randomly show up and threaten me for taking you out.
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[Karen makes the agreement easily, and even though he's turning away from her, she's still watching him. Making note of his body language. Her eyes are still on him when he turns back, even though a hint of a smile appears at the corner of her mouth at his question.]
They know better.
[Which does accurately imply that the vigilantes would get such an earful of shit from her for trying to interfere in her life that they wouldn't even try it. After a moment of silence, she gets up from her seat and rounds the island to join him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling herself in closer to lean against him. She murmurs,] it's hard, but it's not impossible.
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Either way he's grateful for her sudden warmth and comfort and he leans into it for a second before wrapping his arms around her, careful of her still tender shoulder.]
No, not impossible.
[He agrees and drops a kiss on the top of her head.]
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Leaning back, her eyes scan his as she offers him a genuine smile.]
Shepherd's pie already smells good.
[It's a light change of topic, just so she can make sure he knows she's not planning to wrangle a conversation about his service out of him. She knows that's a hard thing for people to talk about.]
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That's my Mum's secret recipe at work.
[He says and leans in to kiss her softly on the lips, just once, as if he is thanking her for such kindness.]
While we wait for it to cook how about I teach you the proper way to pour a Guinness?
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[Karen tips her chin up so she can return the kiss. Her arms unwind from around him so she can frame his face with her hands, brushing her thumbs back along his cheekbones as she leans in to drop one last kiss on his mouth, lingering for just a few seconds. An acknowledgment of his thanks, and an apology in return for bringing that to the forefront of his mind.
At his offer to teach her how to pour the Guinness, she lets her hands drop to his shoulders, giving them a quick gentle squeeze as she grins at him.] Oh, absolutely. Can you grab the glasses? Uh, top shelf, cabinet by the fridge. [One hand trails down along his arm as she turns and moves away, opening the fridge so she can bring the six pack over to the island.]
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[He says and moves to grab them each a tall glass, they're not proper Guinness pint style ones but they'll do just fine.]
So what you might not know is that in every can of Guinness there's a ball at the bottom, or a widget as they call it. This is to help make your pour as creamy as possible.
So step one is to open the can but don't start pouring it right away, you have to let it sit for about five seconds.
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How does the ball effect the creaminess of the pour? It has to be bigger than the opening on the can, right? [There's a beat, and she grins at him.] You know I'm going to want to cut the can open after to see what it looks like, right?
[Still, she can table her curiosity for now. She pulls out two of the cans and cracks each one open, letting it settle on the top of the island.] I do remember there's something about the angle of the pour for Guinness, right?
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You're more than welcome to open it up to find out, so long as you're careful. I don't want you hurting yourself just as you're almost fully healed.
[The crack of the can opening is a satisfying sound and he nods.]
I've seen some people say you should just turn the whole bloody can upside down in the glass and let it empty out which is fun, but not the right way.
What you need is to pour it as a 45 degree angle the entire time, so you have you angle the glass and can together.
You ready to try?
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[Her brow furrows in thought as she listens to him describe the different ways to pour the beer. She holds up one hand, creating a rough 90 degree angle with her index finger and thumb. And then she uses the index finger on her other hand to create a 45 degree angle there, just so she can visualize it.]
Yeah. You're a good teacher, by the way.
[It's worth saying. She takes one of the glasses and shifts the angle, then picks up the can to pour it in, holding it steady.]
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[He says, both as way of thanks for her compliment and for when she starts to pour the drink. As she does he slips his hands up her body and onto her arms, ending with them over her hands and gently he guides her in the pour. Tilting both the glass and the can together.]
That's it, nice and slow.
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I thought we were trying to not get distracted before dinner.
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