basic_powers | Gotham City visit, day 2.

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Gotham City visit, day 2.

It's morning. Actually to clarify things, it's morning in Gotham City, set in the apartment of Dinahs Lance, Snr. and Jnr. There might be birds outside, or that low soft whistling might be the house guest, having found some eggs to fry up for breakfast, while the morning wake-up aroma of fresh coffee spreads through the apartment.

Despite the very late and unsociable hours of conciousness last night, their house guest found himself rising with the dawn as per certain habits. Namely those of 'getting people fed' and not becoming the recipient of the ice-water wake up call.

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"All of you are going to end up giving me a swelled head with this sorta flattery." It's hard not letting his ears go pink right now. Good god, Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman all hearing the praises of his cooking?

"I'm going to be visiting Dinah a while, cooking up another batch for the freezers."

"Really? Great! You know what they say, any friend of Dinah's..."

He says all this while before disappearing an ice cream sandwich in a blur of red, at about the same time Dinah appears, walking steadily on her bandaged knee.

"OK, I'm ready."

She gives another apologetic smile to Beauford. "We won't be long. I might not even be ten minutes."

"If you need to take your time," There's something that needs her, and all of them. Best to take time to see it done right.

"It was great meeting you, sir."

Flash grins and helps himself to another fry as he wraps an arm around Dinah's waist.

"You don't h..." he starts, but then, in a weird blur, they're vanished.

...Okay, Beauford justs has to laugh at that a bit, seeing as the Flash didn't even finish the sentence.

"Do I call you The Flash or the Bottomless Appettite then?"

Eh, no audience around to hear him...and no one around to see him for the next ten minutes so out comes the mp3 player and the funky beats for the kitchen.

And some of the funky moves, since he is pretty much jamming out while making some stir-fry along with the west African stew.

Dinah is, in fact, twenty minutes, and lets herself in through the front door after a green flash appears overhead.

She pulls her wig off and walks straight into the kitchen, slightly more subdued.

"This smells delicious."

"The african stew, the roasted garlic chicken, the stock, the french chicken loaf, or the cheesy tomato bread disks?" He's still smiling and hovering over the stock pot. It's important to know which one is getting her attention, but he's guessing it's the bacon-wrapped chicken loaf that's cooling on a wire rack.

"The whole kitchen," she says, but she ends up hovering by the chicken loaf. "Do you need any help?"

"Help me set up some more cooling racks, the two roasting pans should be done soon and they'll need to rest and cool." He's moving out of the way for the stove and taking a moment to look over what else needs doing.

"Then it's just boring and tedious potato peeling to make cheesy au gratin for a while..."

"Well, I can probably peel potatoes."

Maaybe. Not very well, it has to be said.

But she can set up cooling racks, and test existing dishes for heat to see of they can be moved. Space can be found on counters! And then on the living room coffee table of all places.

It is a mad wild wonder that GL didn't stick his head into the apartment from the sheer depth of the smell of so many kinds of chicken dishes being cooked.

Soon enough, there's chicken cooled off enough to be picked clean, stock to be strained and left to set in the fridge, a new batch of stock to make from the newly picked-clean bones and rice to be put onto another pot. Brown rice of a batch large enough to cover both the meals for the Justice League and the apartment for lunch.

Which really is creeping up quickly on those working in the kitchen.

"...phooo...time for a break."

Dinah, sitting at the counter to take the weight off her leg while she works, sets the potato peeler down definitively.

"Oh good. If I have to be surrounded by this food much longer wihtout eating it, I'll kill something."

"Pick a dish and help yourself...preferably before I start looking like an especially decent target for a peeling." He's gone over to the sink to wash up his hands and grab some bowls out from a cupboard. "I'll go let your mother know that lunch is being served."

Dinah grabs a bowl almost as soon as he produces it, and fills it quickly with some delicious looking chicken.

"And this afternoon - Gotham Library?"

"After a short nap? Totally." He is just joking over his shoulder slightly before heading out the apartment and down to the stairs to the back of the flower shop.

"Mrs. Lance? Lunch is ready if you want some right now."

Having now been joined by a staff member, Dinah snr smiles at him from behind a large bouquet of carnations.

"As soon as I've finished this one," she says. "And Dinah, for goodness' sake, please."

"Ma'am, I'll gingerly point out that there are two Dinah Lances in this building currently."

He has to differentiate somehow. As an added bonus, she's older than him, and could kick his ass, thus deserving of the formal respect.

"Then you can call her Junior," Dinah remarks, not looking up from the bouquet. "She'll only kick your ass a little bit."

"Well then 'Junior' is going to beat you to the bacon chicken loaf." Beauford chuckles, heading back up. "I can't guarantee there'll be any left in the next fifteen minutes."

Junior is, true to prediction, halfway through her first plate of bacon chicken loaf. She grins at him when he comes in, and nods to a plat she's filled for him, and a glass of water.

"I didn't know what to dish out for you. So I got everything I couldn't fit on my plate so I could taste it."

"Thanks 'Junior', don't hate me, your mom's idea." He's just going to tuck into that spicy peanut butter West African chicken stew, and smile happily over the first few mouthfuls before a yawn manages to escape.

"Mmmmnomf."

Dinah rolls her eyes. When she swallows the current mouthful, she manages, "really?" in despair at the name.

But the annoyance is replaced by mild concern when he yawns. "You need to take a nap?"

At least she isn't burdened by a nickname like 'mad dog'.

"Yeah...think so, maybe?" Another yawn gets out at the end of the 'maybe' as he finishes off the stew on his plate. "..mhmyeah. Probably do need a nap."

Ask her about annoying nicknames, some time.

"Use my room," she says. "I'll wash up."

"Wake me in an hour or so?" Beauford calls as he ducks into the bathroom to wash himself up a little more.

No sense in climbing into a bed and leaving chicken scent everywhere.

Because within five minutes of laying down onto the bed face first, he's dozing into sleep.

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Gotham City visit, day 2.

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