Chocolate and Pancakes

November 28, 2017:

Luke spends the night over Danny's house and walks around shirtless. Emery makes Pancakes. Both parties are satisfied.

Danny's House

Danny's House - In the Kitchen.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Jessica Jones, Danny Rand, Owen Mercer, Dani Moonstar (Bear)

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Owning a bar means Luke tends to live the life of a night owl, but something about spending the night in an unfamiliar bed doesn't exactly lead to a lot of rest. He's ambling out of one of the several guest rooms, still scrubbing sleep out of his eyes by the time he wanders into the kitchen, paying more attention to his old school flip phone than his surroundings. He's stabbing at the keys with a thumb, fat fingering whatever text he's sending judging by how many times he grumbles and has to hit the back key. It's not as if Rand had any clothes he could lend the big man that would actually fit, so he's just thrown on his jeans haphazardly in the pursuit of coffee.

*

Evening at Frost's means Morning at Danny's. Emery has been here since O Dark Thirty in the morning, cleaning and eyeing the position of the bread and coldcuts. He even brought in new bags of grocery which have been unpacked and stored away. The Butler wears a simple pair of well fitting black jeans, a dark blue henley and a pair of black and blue converse sneakers, his long hair tucked up into a dark blue beanie as he bustles around in an apron.

At this particular moment in time however, was mixing pancake batter in the kitchen, kettle on the stove for tea…coffee machine running and the Irishman pauses in mid stir of batter to watch the tall, attractive, dark chocolate coated…miracle walk right into the kitchen.

He just wipes his hands off on a towel and moves over to the coffee machine and the tray that is waiting there. "Do ye take creamer, sugar, or anyting else in your coffee sir? Or would ye prefer a latte?" His accent is more of a lilt than a Brogue but it is Irish through and through. Its not his place to judge if Danny is 'making friends'. Blink Blink.

*

Luke Cage is prepared for a lot of things: throwing down at any minute, random one night stands, even the reappearance of a Bear-were. Cheerful Irish Butlers are not among the list. He starts, nearly dropping his phone with a muttered, "Sweet…" And then a chuck of laughter at his own foolishness as his brain catches up to frazzled nerves. "You must be Emery." His large frame drops onto one of the counter height stools Danny was using last night, "Just, uh, black. But I can get it." Despite having already sat down.

*

White coffee mug is brought down, wiped out with a clean cloth as Emery apologizes with a soft chuckle. "I apologize for startling ye." Emery gives a small nod as he fills the cup of coffee. "You, my good sir, are not wrong. Emery Papsworth, professional Butler and certified personal assistant…at your service." The coffee mug is set down in front of Luke.

"No worries, you obviously are still wakin' up, breakfast will be finished momentarily. Had I known we were havin' guests I would've started coffee and tea service a wee bit earlier." Fridge is opened and closed and then a white plate of fresh fruit is set near the mug of coffee. Grapes, Sliced Apple and Melon, etc. Then he's moving back to his pancake batter.

*

"I'm pretty low maintenance." Luke rumbles the words deep in his chest, still tired despite the momentary adrenaline spike. He hulks down over the cup of coffee, wrapping one hand around it and gazing down into the black surface as if it holds all the answers. Or at least maybe enough caffeine that it'll help him get through the day. "Glad you're here though, saves me a trip to Jessica's to see if I still have a soul. So when you're done with your cooking, maybe you can have a look-see."

*

Blink Blink. A skillet is set down a wee bit harder than usual on the stove as the Butler, looks over his shoulder at Luke for a moment, an eyebrow raising a fraction. "Which one are you then, Satan or the Luke Cage?" He asks carefully and tsks softly. The first pancake is poured into the skillet to begin cooking. "How do you take your eggs Master…?" Waiting for a name.

*

Luke leans forward, propping his elbows on the counter and tenting his hands together in between. "First time I've been accused of being Satan and still offered breakfast in the morning." The big man says dryly, finally lifting his eyes to watching after Emery after that statement and the clang of the pot on the stove. "Look man, I didn't mean to offend you or anything, Jones just sent a text giving us the heads up that's all. I know you're meta, so you can cut the bullshit. And Luke, just call me Luke." Being the first time he really /looks/ at Emery, the butler is getting a slow assessing once over. "Over easy."

*

"I am not so easily offended Master Luke." A second skillet is pulled out and set on the stove before the Irishman moves to pull a carton of eggs from the fridge and return to his post. "That is just the first time I've had somebody ask me to check if their soul was in tact over coffee." Emery does have to pause though to look over at Luke again. "…that woman sent a /text/ to a group of people who may or may not have a soul and gave them me name?" He wants to make sure he heard that correctly. Giant fluffy Pancake is flipped neatly, and eggs are cracked in the new pan. Every motion flows into the next.

*

"Careful about that woman, son." Luke says in that low timbre of his, where it sounds more like thunder in his chest, it's just a subtle note of warning, that Jessica has this big guy's protection. "She sent a text to her /friends/." He sips again of the coffee, which is doing nothing to banish the redness of the bloodshot whites of his eyes. "And for what it's worth, it's the first time I had to ask anyone about the state of my soul, so I guess we're both virgins."

*

The Butler doesn't quite laugh at being called 'son'. He manages to just press his lips together and raise his eyebrows a bit with a shake of his head. "Aye, /her/ friends. Not /my/ friends, dear. She's riskin' me life, and in that the safety of me and my daughter…" He shrugs a shoulder. "But I'm just the help, so if she asks…I will do what I can. I have grown rather fond of Miss Jones." He's up to 3 skillets now, the third has bacon sizzling away in it and he's plating one pancake before turning to pour more batter into the skillet.

*

Any hackles that were raised get somewhat smoothed over when Emery says he's fond of Jessica, but Luke still watches him a bit more warily. "We won't let anything happen to your kid." The man hunches back down, not that he can make his frame any smaller, kicking up one bare foot to hitch on the cross brace of his stool and he broods back into his coffee. He can't help the fact that his stomach makes a loud appreciative noise for the smells that are starting to fill the kitchen. Judging by the state of the bread and cold cuts, he's always hungry.

*

"With all due respect, I trust Miss Jones. I trust Master Danny. While you will give me ever so much wank bank material and resemble the statue of Greek God rendered in pure Dark Chocolate…I dun trust you yet." Emery winks and tilts his head at the sound of that tummy, smiling to himself and tossing a few more pieces of bacon in the pan. A silver tray is laid out, there's a small pitcher of warmed maple syrup, plate with butter on it, a small bowl of some type of berry preserves. The pancakes are…huge, so two of them would equal about 4 normal sized pancakes. Luke is getting 4 giant pancakes. Plate of pancakes is set on the tray, dollop of whipped butter and sprinkling of powered sugar. "I hope ye do not mind chocolate chip pancakes." A small plate is set beside it on the tray with the 10 pieces of bacon and the overeasy eggs. He carefully folds a linen napkin and tucks in the spoon, fork, and knife before turning around to set the tray in front of Luke. Then he's back to the stove, prepping to make the second serving for Danny. He's used to cooking alot of food lately. "Sooo…what do /you/ do Master Luke? Are you and Master Danny close?"

*

While the fresh fruit was about to be tucked into, Emery sets down that big tray and suddenly apple slices get passed over for a piece of bacon instead. Luke apparently isn't worried about things like high cholesterol or heart disease, nor gaining weight by the looks of it. The napkin is shaken out and draped over a thigh with one hand while he feeds his open maw with the other. At least he is polite enough to finish chewing before he talks. "Yeah, you're Emery all right. Owen warned me about you. And suddenly I'm feeling very naked." There is a crack of a smile though, "I had some of your apology cake already, so something tells me chocolate chips in the batter will suit me just fine." There's no offense to the matter of trust, Luke has his own issues with that lately, so he's a little guarded judging by his answer of, "I own the bar your buddy works at."

*

"/Owen/ warned ye about /me/?" There's a roll of his eyes and a smirk as Emery continues the complicated dance routine that is fixing breakfast. He also seems to clean as I go, so he really is never still. At once point, he's refilled Luke's coffee, and then gone back to flipping bacon. He does however, sound amused as he continues. "And if ye want to get fully naked, you'd have to take your breakfast in the dining room."

There's a soft sound of both surprise and approval at the revelation. "If that buddy happens to be Owen, then I commend your charitable spirit and patience. He's a good lad." He's fixing up a second tray now with a roll of his shoulders and idle crack of his neck.

*

"Something about being fully naked while syrup is well within your reach is unnerving." Luke's smile grows the more he eats, now attacking that stack of Power-Man sized pancakes with zeal. "And I'm not a charity, he does good work. Testing my patience on the other hand…" Luke's hand wobbles in a so-so type of gesture. "He's proud. Can only fault a man so much for that."

*

"You're making it too easy Master Luke. Some of me fondest memories involve being fully naked while syrup was well within my reach…but I digress. Wholely inappropriate breakfast conversation. Forgive me." Emery piles bacon and eggs on a plate and starts sprinkling powdered sugar on the second stack of pancakes. "He's a scrappy fighter and he is quick on his feet. I also tink there may be a bit of 'give a damn' shimmering beneath that surface of pride. As I said, he's a good lad and good on you for giving him the opportunity." Its green tea, not coffee set on that second tray. "Also, if ye didn't have a soul, I would've put tranquilizers in your cup of coffee Master Luke and ye would've woken up in Miss Jone's custody with your pancakes in a to-go box. Please /only/ tell Jessica this."

*

"You don't want me to give away your little secret about roofying?" Luke's smile settles down to just a smirk as he shovels in a mouthful of pancakes, giving a vague up-nod of appreciation for the food as he chews. Then, "Don't ruin coffee for me, man, it's like the one thing I have left."

*

"I don't tink I'm going to catch any more of the people listed surprising me by walkin' into Master Danny's kitchen, so the coffee ting would only work for /you/ I'm afraid. But no worries. Your coffee is safe from my meddling." Emery smiles a bit and seems to have slowed down, at least a bit. He's mostly working on the clean up now. "So, ye've ran into the Bear, I'm assumin'? Had a toussle. Did it beat you here?" He points to his arm. "Or did it cheat and go for here?" He taps his temple and then his heart.

*

"She showed up at the bar, looking for Owen." There doesn't seem to be any blame there for his new bartender, or Luke's at least past that. He busies himself mopping a piece of bacon through the yolk of his egg, taking a little more of his attention than it really requires, stalling perhaps before he answers. "She tried to take me out with some arrows first." But the fact that his skin seems completely unmarred is testament that course failed. "Then she went in for the kill shot." His fork makes a vague gesture at his bald head. The smile is gone.

*

"Have ye ever been to war? Like in the trenches type of war? Where your life and everyting you've ever loved, the life you lived, your nightmares and everyting swim up and both tease, mock and comfort you all at the same time?" Emery asks, refilling the coffee cup again before pouring himself a cup of coffee. He rummages around in a cabinet for a moment before pulling out a bottle of amber liquid and he pours a bit of that into his coffee. "I will only say this about that bear. Its like that moment of death, where everything you have, everyting you had and everyting you might have…is going to be dangled before you like a grotesque puppet and the ting you love and fear the most, will be what defeats you." A long pause. "Unless you find your peace with it first, and accept…aye, it hurts. It will always hurt. But it is your pain to feel, your hurt to hurt. But ye won't let anyting or anyone else use your own pain against you." He takes a long sip of his fortified coffee. He speaks like someone with personal experience. He knows, because its what he does.

*

Luke just looks at Emery for a long hard moment, as if all those words cut like knives rather than serve as some sort of salve or sage advice about the experience. His appetite is suddenly gone, the fork left to submerge in a puddle of syrup, and he just sliiiiides out his cup towards the Irishman who just put Irish in his coffee. "I think I'm going to need a little bit of that." He rumbles.

*

There's soft tsk of sympathy before Emery turns smoothly to add a splash of whiskey to that cup of coffee for Luke with a small nod. "We all need a little bit of Irish in our lives from time to time." He squints a bit and then shrugs his shoulders. "But just…tink about what I've said okay? As I've said, I've grown fond of Miss Jones and I want to make sure the people she has to back her up, know what they are walkin' into potentially."

*

Luke shifts his weight off the stool, the piece of furniture groaning thankfully to be free of it, as the man pulls his coffee cup with him. The other hand plucks the tray off the counter as if weighs nothing more than a feather and he moves it to at least place near the sink. "Thanks for the food, and when you see Rand, thank him for letting me crash here last night." His soul might be intact, but there is definitely something broken behind those eyes as he moves to extract himself from the conversation.

*

Emery watches after Luke for a moment, a flicker of empathy in his dark gaze but he just gives a small nod of understanding as he tucks another young(ish) man into his category of 'make sure this one is okay'. He worries his bottom lip and bows deeply. "I will pass along your regards Master Luke, and you are always…welcomed here." A pause. All he says is this. "I've been in the world since 1910. I learned to own me own pain. I know you'll learn to." He gives him a chinup and gestures. "If you walk out of here without your shirt, you'll cause the neighbors to faint."

*

"Please. Just Luke. And I'm going to grab my stuff right now." Luke grumbles good-naturedly, because he's going to need his boots too and his helmet if that bike parked out front is any indication. "1910, huh?" He's commenting as he steps out into the house proper, his voice lifted slightly to just below booming so the Irishman can hear. "Guess I better stop calling you 'son'."

*

Emery peeks around the kitchen doorway to call out after Luke. "I have neither a priest nor a daddy kink, so probably for the best!" And with that he's back to cleaning the kitchen. Now if all the friends are as pleasant as Chocolate Thunder, then this won't be so bad. He's hoping. He's…praying.

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