2019-08-13 - Pretty Idiots and Outlets

Lilith really did do her hair because she didn't have anything else to do while waiting and she said she was going to during the text conversation, so hey, results. Her hair is loosely curled, though, and free, and probably honestly only took five minutes because it's a breezy casual kind of pretty instead of overcurled and arranged to fancy. She's wearing a white tank top with blue artsy embroidering pattern on the hem edges, a pair of dark, tailored and fitted skinny jeans, and her feet are bare with little painted red toenails. She's also wearing a kitchen apron that's some vintage paisley print of multiple colors tied on to suit her opening words for Corey's greeting once she's answered the knock at the loft door.

"I have a question-- because you have a kitchen kink, is it somehow more of a turn on if someone answers the door wearing an apron?"

She takes a moment to eye Corey up and down after posing that question, then after reaching up and leaning in to muss his hair brief and abrupt while his hands are full of groceries, she steps back to gesture him in like it didn't happen at all.

When Lilith opens the door, it is to a slightly upmarket version of the Corey she met in her shop. This one has smart black jeans on, a grey button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and polished black shoes. His hair is still all over the place however, made no worse by that ruffling. He smiles slowly once she steps back post-mussing, but doesn't comment on it, instead musing, "It's not a kink, babe. I mean if you were in just an apron? Hell yeah. But that ain't about the apron then, is it."

He looks around the loft, gravitating towards the open kitchen area and setting the bags of groceries down on the countertop, before fishing out a bottle of white wine and heading to put it in the fridge. Glancing back he adds, "Your hair looks nice. Can't believe that takes twenty minutes though." His tone is light, teasing.

"It didn't. But I can lie and tell you it did to make you feel special. Or to make me sound really slow and bad at it." Lilith tells Corey, trailing after to come lean her back against the kitchen counter edge while he unloads things into the fridge and elsewhere. She's wearing some level of makeup unlike the other day when she was dressed down and cleaning office, mostly mascara and a touch of dark eyeliner for darkened lashes and standout flair of blue irises, as well as some tinted flush balm at her lips, but more or less, it's accent, she's not powdered and over-dolled.

She has some surround sound speakers lowly running shuffle music play and it's currently playing a Phantogram song like edgy home ambience. It kind of smells like some apple cinnamon potpourri and vestiges of dryer sheets from a prior load of laundry in the loft. The kitchen itself seems pretty simplistic modern with nice appliances and a lot of that nice deep-drawer storage for cookery and other things-- it's either been remodeled or the loft itself is a fairly recent add-on to the shop overhead.

"You're free to dig anywhere you need or want in here and I'll... point and watch. Did you pick white because it goes with Paella or because you prefer it?"

There's a brief laugh from Corey as he begins to unpack things, setting them out on the kitchen counter one by one. Carrot, garlic, onion, chorizo, a pack of raw chicken, a couple of bell peppers and some fresh parsley. Some paella rice, a pack of prawns, some frozen peas and a lemon. Some grouped together, some left separately. "I dunno, I feel pretty special anyway. Not everyone gets ruffled by a demoness and lives to tell the tale," he replies, looking over to Lilith for a moment and giving her a proper up-and-down look. His smile lingers.

"I like white, and it goes with chicken and prawns, so. Figured it'd be okay, but if you have something in you like better, that's also good," he murmurs, turning away to wash his hands in the sink, then flicking a few droplets of water her way when drying them off. "First off, chopping board and sharp knives. Also, how much do you want me to explain what I'm doing?"

Lilith twitches her lips with slight smile at the hair ruffle bit and the look up and down, then nods her head some with mild approval as she straightens from counter lean. Her hand comes out to bat a little uselessly with swipe at the water droplets flicked her way, then she turns to pull out a drawer to get the indicated things out, "White is nice with food. I like red for stress. Absolute coincidence that a good cabernet looks like blood, I promise."

And the knife she pulls out, she does it a bit like a ta-da for Corey's delight. It's one of those folded, beaten steel and sharp edged Japanese chef knives that probably cost a pretty penny or was a gift. That or she just likes sharp knives. Lilith flicks it around for show a moment before putting it with the cutting board, "And huhm. You don't have to explain a lot. I'm decent at watching and I will probably ask questions if I want to know the how or why of something. But..." The woman puts her tongue to tick a few times at the point of one of her eye-teeth, briefly pensive, "I learned on Food Network how to smash garlic to get it out of clove shells easier, so things like that, tricks? I like those. You can explain those."

"... how many times have you made Paella?"

"Suuure it is," Corey agrees with respect to the colour of red wine, that smile turning a little crooked towards the end, before his eyes settle on that fancy knife. "Wow. For someone who doesn't cook, that's a serious piece of kit there, babe," he notes, sounding impressed. Taking a breath he then offers, "Okay. Tip number one is sorta common sense, but you'd be surprised how many people don't think about it." He taps the chopping board lightly with one hand. "Do all your veggies and herbs first, and the meat or fish absolutely last, to cut down on the number of times you need to wash and dry the board." Because like most chefs, he hates washing up.

As he speaks he begins to make short work of peeling and chopping the various plant-y bits, asking for a large bowl to scrape them into as they're done. "Never. But I've looked up a recipe," he then admits cheerfully. "Doesn't look terribly hard."

Lilith squints at Corey's claim of relative ease while reaching up to get him a bowl for cutting board dump bits, then posts up with lean next to him nearby, "Makes sense. And mm, the knife. Having a dull blade irritates me if I'm going to cook something. I figure it's kind of like razors-- you let your blade dull up, you're more likely to gouge yourself with the effort or drag than you ever will with a new shiny and sharp one."

"Anyway, I'm not really bad at cooking, I had to learn... when I was very little with limited access and supplies, assuming uh. There was stuff to use. The issue really, is that other than TV? I've... never seen anyone cooking so much. I don't do anything fancy and tend to do what's become common go-to or do some off the cuff dump jobs into a pan to see what it turns into." While he's cutting, the brunette reaches up in brief to adjust some of the styled muss of Corey's hair like she's undoing what she did when he came in. Really, it's kind of useless, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?

While watching, Lilith is pretty keen with observance despite her casual post up in tandem nearby, turned with her back against the counter edge again in ready-to-fetch mode. The music shifts to Habits by Tove Lo, which seems to distract her for just a tick, then she looks at Corey's shoes. Abruptly, she notes with a humored bat of her lashes on looking back up, "... you wore nice shoes. You really do think I'm pretty, huh."

There's a moment where Corey pauses when he feels hands in his hair, his motions slowing a bit. It'd be a shame to cut off a finger because he was enjoying his hair being mussed. Or un-mussed. "Exactly that," he confirms to the importance of a sharp knife, eventually finishing with the plants and rinsing the knife and board off, before taking out the chorizo and beginning to cut it into small chunks. "Off-the-cuff cooking can be the best, though I've done plenty of 'what do I have in the cupboard' pasta sauces too," the student chef admits.

The chorizo, chicken and prawns don't take long, the knife, board and his hands washed between each, and no further pearls of wisdom offered just yet. The comment about his shoes draws a curious look over to Lilith, brows raised. "This was in doubt?" he enquires, blue eyes fixing on Lilith's face. "Then for the record yes, I do think you're very pretty. But it's the banter that gets me going," he notes, his grin unapologetic.

"Mm. You know, you just think you like sass and frass out of me until it turns into barbs. I do appreciate someone that can keep up, though." Lilith tells Corey with a more natural smile slanting her lips and lighting her features with his reply about her general mouthiness being the hook as much as the pretty. She seems to like that, she wasn't quite compliment fishing so much as making an observation. But all the same, she takes them both and it gives the guy an almost full-measure smile instead of a dry twitch or slip of reserved measure she usually tends to dole out.

While he finishes up the cutting and variety for pan, she thinks for a moment and gets out a few different pans or pots to put on the stove to let the chef pick what he prefers or likes, opens the spice cabinet for oil/whatever else access so he knows where it is, then opens the fridge to get out a couple of Heinekens while the wine is chilling and food is doing the prep and cook bit. Automatically, she puts her thumb to each lid in turn and flicks the top toward the trash can with light drive of gesture once the tops are popped, but uh. Maybe it's good Corey's distracted-- she's a human bottle opener out of habit and instinct, crushing the top metal with tiny indents that crack the beer pressure and allow her to guide the pop off without utensil.

Lilith kind of pauses with her lips briefly twisting to one side in a bobble of mental 'oops', then looks at Corey a bit more closely while delivering one of the beers to hand-access nearby on the counter where he's doing food prep, "So. You like to cook and you're good at it and it makes you happy. And you're going to school for it. Do you work with food too, while going to school?"

"I do my best, ma'am," Corey replies with exaggerated humility to the comment about keeping up, reaching up to doff a hat that he isn't wearing. Choosing the largest frying pan on offer, he sets it on the hob and turns on the heat, adding a splash of oil. "Alright then, what've we got here," he muses, perusing her spice cabinet and picking out paprika and turmeric, hunting to see if there's any saffron, even the fake stuff most stores sell. He's oblivious to the flicker of spirit going on over there, busy with his craft. One hand reaches out to take the beer when she sets it down within reach, and he lifts it to take a sip.

"Yeah, there's a lot of practical sessions in class, but I also work at Patisserie Vydal," Corey confirms absently, transferring the chicken into the frying pan to begin browning, stirring occasionally but able to put much more of his attention on Lilith while he does so. "And before you ask, the number of eclairs I've made is definitely in four figures now." He grins slyly, glad of her choice of dessert it would seem.

There's all those things in there, thankfully. When Corey pulls out the container of (probably not real) saffron, though, she opens her mouth and then closes it after a tiny breath, like she's about to comment or say something. Instead, though, she drinks a really long drink from the bottle of beer first, then tries again, "You know. Someone sent me imported Indian saffron crocuses recently when I was in the hospital and the guy that owns the plant store has the real stuff from them... because I sent them thattaway instead of keeping them. He offered me some to have and I declined, but... I'm going to get some he harvested now, I think. For you. Be excited."

Suddenly, though, Lilith huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes like she's been foiled by the whole give-Corey-challenge idea she had. Especially given his not-so-hard swagger with all the paella prep and now the tidbit about making thousands of eclairs at work! "Damnit. I should have went for like... the baked alaska from the hard-to-make google list. But that seemed extreme and... hell. I like the little eclairs. They're cute." Stepping close to eyeball the chicken, she sidesteps to get him some tongs from a drawer with her free hand for flipping around if need be, making the obligatory clicky-noises with them at his face in brief right before like she's about to pinch his nose with them. She doesn't though.

"What else do you like? Not-food."

"Wow, actual saffron?" Corey's expression lights up for a moment, like a kid who has been shown the big pile of wrapped boxes under the Christmas tree. "That's awesome. I will totally show you some things to make with it," he promises, as if this isn't just a one-off food-based flirtation. Flinching back briefly at that tong-based threat, he then takes the tool. Glancing down to the pan he flips around the chicken pieces with those tongs - they've been given their mandatory clack-check but he repeats it just in case, before taking out the chicken chunks when they are browned but not completely cooked, then dropping the onions in to begin softening.

"I like all sorts of things. Camping, gardening, imitating moose calls. You know, the usual stuff," he then responds, simply grinning to her laugh and eye-roll, quietly confident in his ability to make cute little eclairs. "How about you? Other than virgin blood, red wine and selling other people's weird shit, what do you enjoy?"

"Moose calls? That's new. Don't do it yet to show me, wait for your moment. Also don't ever do it naked. It's probably hard for the ladies to headshake when you start doing that." Lilith pulls herself up to sit on the counter bar edge with her beer in near view of the stove and Corey nearby, turning her beer bottle between her hands while considering the return question. Her head tilts a little after she sweeps some hair off of her shoulder, and who knows why she's actually wearing the apron because she hasn't done much of a damn thing to help and is right on that observing thing, instead.

In fact... after a glance at the guy, then down at herself, she starts to untie it, then beckons for him to back up so she can put it on him instead while seated there at the counter edge perch with legs and feet at idle dangle sway. It's unclear if she's stalling the reply answer as to things she likes (other than the obvious) while doing that, but eventually, she answers with a vaguely thoughtful cant to her tone of voice.

"I like... to keep Coke or soda water in the house because when I first wake up and my mouth is dry? I like the fizzy rehydration burn feel while I'm still half asleep with two or three sips. And I like to dance, especially when things are shitty and I want them to turn off for a while. I like... to take things apart and put them together again. I like the Science channel. And Jim Morrison's high-as-a-kite poetry."

"They do make me pretty irresistible, and I'd hate to inadvertently seduce a woman with naked moose-calls," Corey acknowledges with faux-humility, stirring in the crushed garlic and adding the chorizo a bit after that. He turns to watch her while the food cooks, watching that head-tilt and hair-sweep, before stepping up to be adorned with colourful paisley. He leans in further so she can reach around to tie the strings once it's over his neck, or at least that makes a good excuse. Head dipping, he brushes the tip of his nose against that bare shoulder, teasing against the strap of her tank top before tilting back up again, blue eyes a shade or two darker.

"Please don't chase the clouds," he murmurs, one of the few fragments of Jim Morrison's questionable poetic output that he remembers, before adding, "It's a shame the apron doesn't say 'Kiss the Cook'."

"Is it? Clever you. But see, I'm perfectly rational and know what I'm capable of. You'd burn something or turn it off altogether, I think, then I'd never get my goddamn masterful paella. Also who takes orders from clothing? Bitches, that's who." Lilith tells Corey after a vaguely impressed lift of her brows that he can even quote that little tidbit from the ol' Lizard King. But mostly, she's focused on draping and then leaning in with her own return to tie blindly with very little effort and a fair amount of quick looping... and the brush of pass with nose tip at her shoulder. She smells a lot like clean laundry soap, some vague hint of vanilla-coconut from lotion, and water lilies from wash or shampoo, no real perfume applied.

When Corey's eyes come back up, though, to look at her, she drinks from her beer after a downright murmured curse under her breath, other hand reaching to take him and keep him there by the jaw while she takes that pause for bottle pull. After staring at him for a vaguely studious moment, she murmurs, "You have amazing eyes." Then she releases gradually from the jaw hold to let him free again, all aproned up.

"You think I'd be distracted enough to forget that I've got something cooking? Or enthralled enough to turn it off?" Corey asks, then fingersnaps. "But of course. Demonic ensorcelment." Once he's properly apronned up he stays still for that admiration of his eyes, a faint smile dawning at her compliment. "Thanks," he murmurs, a tad uncertainly, before moving away to stir the onions and chorizo, adding in the turmeric, saffron and paprika, mixing it in with the oil from the chorizo. "I do have to admit, I've never been a fan of The Doors. But my sister had a phase, and she got into his poetry too."

He mixes up some chicken stock, adding it to the pan along with the paella rice, then has a bit of time to turn his attention back to Lilith. "What sort of stuff do you watch on the science channel?"

Lilith smiles some at Corey and watches him draw away to move back to the pan, draining the rest of her beer. She seems thoughtful, not dryly amused or that off-the-cuff casual ease she is outwardly at other times, and her eyes kind of watch him a little more than the pan. The woman's supposed to be learning, but distractions happen, seems, that keen and attentive focus for task at hand kind of waning in favor of other views or thoughts, "I'm selective. I know a lot of his shit is literal drug-haze and... well, complete shit. But some of it is like... a thunderstorm or the way the sun breaks out after the storm. I like to imagine it's because the good ones are the ones where... I can feel his breaks of clarity where he really shined in that beautiful, broken mind. And I kind of know what it's like to be a thunderstorm with occasional breaks of sunshine."

After making a little noise in her throat, she slips down from counter edge, sans apron cover since it's on Corey now, draining her beer on the way to pitch it to the trash, "There's this show called How It's Made, shows how... anything and everything is made down to the tiniest pieces. It's my favorite." Then when she returns to stand by the chef to look down into the pan, "But then there's all the animal shows. And finding Atlantis. And the things about black holes and... hell. Most of it."

Then abruptly, without warning once she's nearby again and he has things added to the pan in full, she reaches up for a quick snag at the back of Corey's neck to try and decisively pull him down with rough decisiveness to her lips. She's not strong so it's probably fairly easy to wrangle out of if he's decided to opt out, but the execution is pretty on point.

Stirring the rice just a few times, Corey lets it get on with cooking without further spatula-disturbance, nodding as he turns back to Lilith. He's got nothing on the potential genius/thunderstorm of Jim Morrison's drug-addled mind, but on the topic of How It's Made; "I've seen a couple episodes," he affirms, though doesn't have a particular favourite to share. "Netflix has a good science show right now, if you've got access," he adds, with regards to the rest. "One Strange Rock." There is no elaboration; if she's curious, she'll need to check it out herself.

Then as she moves in, arms lifted to pull him down, there is no resistance. No wrangling; he'd been half a moment from kissing her a few minutes ago after all, and so it probably comes as no surprise when he goes along with it. Firmly at first, his mouth covering Lilith's with a hungry pressure, then easing off to softer sweeps and licks and nips, teasing and playing rather than going straight for the heavy stuff, his hands coming to rest on her hips, to keep her where she is. He's paying no attention to the paella - well, maybe half an ear only - but she's timed her attack well, the pan in no danger of spilling over or burning the contents for a few minutes yet.

Lilith feeds right into the marked attack of the kissing drawdown initially with Corey, her lips already ready to part with hard meshing meet and lash of tongue before she backs off to a degree to let him take lead with it. It's a tiny dance of aggressive and passive there for a tick, the way she pulls back to let his own tongue and teeth glide and tug with nip, then she ends it with heady rush of intensity, picking back up to aggressive with stepping press up against his tall, lean frame. Her own teeth tug hard with capture, then pop of release at his bottom lip on break, but she doesn't pull back, she stays nose nudged, "I just treated you like a boy toy. Test run. Was it fun?"

The quiet words are tinged with her familiar dry humor, and her own hands sweep down with glide from neck to shoulders, along the outer arms as she's held at the hips. Her speaker system must be a total eavesdropper because right in the middle of all that, some riotous live version of Roadhouse Blues started playing.

Corey tastes of mint and beer, and despite the teasing he's more than willing to go harder when Lilith steps up and in, meeting that aggression with his own lust, though conceding the battle when she tugs on his lip, a frankly brilliant smile curving them upwards as that delicious contact is finally broken.

The hands on her hips shift back to cup and grip her rear, keeping her locked in against his body rather more firmly as she asks that question. "No complaints here, oh ancient siren," he assures, that thread of teasing offered with a slightly rougher tone than earlier. "Even if you've lured me to your lair under the clearly false pretence of learning to cook better." Because of course that's exactly what happened. He didn't make the offer first, or anything.

Lilith breaks into a bubble of laughter from the throat at Corey's accusation because okay, maybe he asked first, but she did the sudden manhandling before dinner is even ready, so there might be something to that. Then with lips brushing in tickle of movement against his, she quietly sings along to a lyric line playing on the speakers, her hips angle with shifting to press more into his hold at the backside, "... the future's uncertain and the end is always near." After exhaling a little rush of hot, fluttering air while keeping them rather close by nose and lips despite the break, she seems to feel that lyric with the whispery low singalong to her very bones.

Corey has no clue what the past month has been for Lilith Winslow or why she was cleaning her office that day he came in.

Then she wonders, absolutely with no detail or hint or prompt, and it's the most vague and pointed question all at once, delivered in close with that quiet intensity, "Do you know what you are? Because I do."

Huh. It doesn't sound like she's trying to be cute with a trick question.

There's a little kneading, a little squeezing when Corey feels her pressing back into his hands, and then slowly as the mood changes, shifting from playful to thoughtful, he bumps his nose alongside hers once more and then slowly releases his hold, hands sliding back to hips, then away completely.

"What I am is a hungry man," he murmurs, glancing aside to check that the pan is still bubbling away. Whether he's hungry for food or sex is up for debate; probably both. "What are you thinking?" He's no mind-reader, and his nascent skill with Mental gives him only the most general sense of her mood, more serious now than a few moments ago, for reasons unknown.

"You're a little like me, I think. You're too strong inside. And sometimes you slip." Lilith tells Corey without any other explanation, calm and direct as can be without answering much of anything at all, maybe. But if it's not sinking in now, one day it will. And she's not going to jab it in there. Instead, she's perfectly relaxed on step back to give him space after they're extricated from each other, her own eyes taking a wander toward the pan. Then suddenly she seems concerned because... she takes to finger pointing at it with the bubbling and general ignorance of the way you do not unlid and stir and smash paella around to gummy levels.

"Is that going to burn and stick at the bottom? Should we stir it?" He did say he was hungry, afterall, and she is too because it smells amazing, even with distraction still on her. And by 'we' she means 'he' because her helper capacity is eyeballs and questions.

Well, that doesn't make a great deal of sense to Corey in any other context than the kiss they just shared, his brows raising. "Too strong?" He glances down to where he'd been holding her, and then back up. "Did I hurt you?" He sounds apologetic, figuring that's what she's referring to rather than the Howard The Ducklamp incident.

The question about stirring it draws a shake of his head. "Lightly, every four or five minutes. It doesn't need more than that," he assures, the pan having been bubbling for maybe two. "While it's simmering, do you want to keep an eye on it while I do the choux pastry?" He seems to take her agreement as given, because he steps away to the bags he brought in, taking out a small pack of plain flower.

"No, no. I'm sorry, you didn't hurt me. That was nice. I'm being..." Lilith purses her lips with twist off to one side while watching Corey go to do the dessert thing, posted by the stove to keep an eye on things. She looks at the clock, notes the bit about time and doesn't take to stirring right away, but eventually she does de-lid and poke things around lightly before quickly closing it back up to simmer. She also seems to be weighing one thing or another, or maybe thinking of a way to explain or be cute and brush-off after her little dig to maybe see how familiar he is with certain things and well... himself, in a sense.

Luckily, she doesn't have to figure it out in the end. Her phone rings and she makes a noise in her throat with a downward tick of her brows because the ringtone is apparently signified to someone, as she explains, "... that's from downstairs, I just stirred." Then she goes over to reach with lean across the counter where her phone is on the charger, turning down the music first.

"Katy. What's up?" Lilith pauses with the phone to her ear and paces around some behind Corey to look at what he's doing, though face it, she's probably not going to try to make actual eclairs herself at any point. That's different than food-food, baking is kind of a whole other beast and she's not ready for the upper echelons. Her hand settles, though, after a moment, to the mid of the guy's back while listening to what seems to be a long-winded question or explanation from the other end, "Wow. That's the most I think I've heard you say all at once." A pause, "Okay, what's the collateral?" Another pause, then a gust of sigh, "No, it's fine, you can't assess collateral anyway. Get their information in advance, I'll be right down."

Lilith starts to hang up, her hand rubbing with small apology where it rests there at Corey's back, then pauses as more chatter comes across, "Oh, you're totally right, it's a bullshit waste of time if he's not even going to deal, but in the event that it happens, that paperwork will be out of the way, won't it? I'm not hanging around down there longer than I have to, so I want it--" A pause, "Yep. Be right down."

Addressing Corey, then, she starts for the door in a bit of a scamper hurry, because someone must potentially have something valuable or interesting downstairs that the bored/lazy fill-in girl downstairs can't loan on or assess, "I'll be back up as soon as I can, sorry. I think you have this under control, though. Nose anywhere you want." She might not mean that, her tone is a little dry, but obviously she's really meaning, 'mi casa su casa' more or less while he's in there controlling her kitchen.

"Okay, good." Corey is still a little puzzled, though obviously glad he hasn't hurt Lilith accidently by being 'too strong'. Whatever that meant. He leans over to brush a kiss against her temple as she looks away to the simmering paella, before busying himself with making choux pastry. Apparently it involves a pan of hot water and butter, that's as far as he gets before her phone rings.

He's obligingly quiet while she speaks, busying himself with weighing out ingredients, then glances over and nods when she announces the need to head downstairs. "Sure thing, babe." She heads downstairs, and then Corey goes for a rummage, hunting for piping bags and making do with ziploc ones.

Busying himself with piping choux and making chocolate ganache and whipping the cream, between stirs of paella, he's got the buns in the oven and the rest ready to go by the time she returns, the student chef playing some game or other on his phone while he kills time. Not snooping, beyond the necessary hunt for bags.

When Lilith comes back in, she has a handgun. Because that's perfectly normal, right? It kind of is, though, in a pawn shop, and apparently this piece was the collateral for a hefty loan, and it's pretty clear she hopes they default on it. Because it's not just any gun! It's a pretty sharp and deadly looking modern piece, which the woman explains as she busts back in with kick of the door behind, slipping out of the sandals she put on to run downstairs, "Did I mention I like to shoot guns? I like to shoot guns. Do you know what this is?" He probably doesn't, especially from this distance, nor does it help that she's waving it around kind of like a prize while holding it at the barrel end.

"This is a Kimber Classic Carry Elite. Not a Pro. An Elite!" It kind of looks elite for a gun, all told, once she's wandered over to lay it on the counter for a preening stroke of fingertips, "And it's in perfect condition, I bet he's only fired it a few times, at that. I've been wanting a fourty-five calibur that was worth the pocket hit, but... now one's just here for me to fall in love with. I really hope he doesn't come back for it. I think it's possible he was only pawning instead of selling because he overextended but didn't have the heart to get rid of the impulse purchase entirely. Which! Bodes well. Not for him so much, but mm."

After a bat of her lashes, she quits fawning over the gun and looks at Corey, then the stove, then the oven, "... oh ho. Look at you. Accomplished as hell too."

As long as the gun isn't pointed at him when Lilith returns, Corey is relaxed but vaguely interested. "Nope. No idea, other than 'a handgun'," he replies, cocking his head slightly as he listens to her explain all about it. He nods a few times, assuming from her tone and the elite that it's quite valuable. "Well, let's hope he defaults then," he murmurs, a lazy smile crossing his lips as she then notes his handiwork.

"The paella is ready, though I completely forgot to put the prawns in, so. It's just chicken and chorizo with the veg." Since that's what she originally asked for, hopefully it's not a problem. "Choux buns will be out in about ten, but they'll need time to cool, so. Ready to eat?" He's identified where the crockery lives, pulling down two bowls, then sorting out spoons and such.

"That's perfect. It smells amazing. I'm starving. And now I'm high on firearm porn. It's time for wine, too, isn't it?" Lilith lets Corey set up the bowls and spoons at the counter after some dish out and goes for wine glasses to tug down. After detouring to the fridge to pull the wine bottle out, though, she goes to set the glasses down, eyes what the guy is doing, waits for him to finish, then hands the bottle outward with her hands, "Open this." She gives him no bottle opener and her hip is bumped against the drawer it was in with the tongs and such.

There's a bare tinge of smile at her lips for some reason, like she's giving him a riddle to figure out. Apparently she's a bit of a meddler for kicks or just plain curious. But she elaborates, even though it might sound a little strange, "There's a gap of air between the liquid and the cork in the bottle neck. You're going to open it with no corkscrew or utensil. Get under there and push. Don't think too much. If you want it open, you'll find a way." Her blue standout eyes are a little intense and keenly watching, though she keeps posture at calm ease and the tone of her voice is direct and easy... and encouraging. Hopeful maybe? Definitely bolstering, though.

Dishing up a decent amount into each bowl, Corey sets the pan back on the hob, heat turned off, and covers it with a plate. Looks like there's enough left for at least one lunch, maybe two. "Wine sounds great," he agrees, setting the cutlary out and then taking the wine bottle in hand, eyeing it. Eyeing Lilith. Eyeing the bottle again. "Uh.. okay."

He tips the bottle upside down slowly, checking the bottom before righting it, then turns away, hand moving as if he's shaking it a bit, then slapping the bottom of the bottle as if he's going to coax it out. Or maybe make it fizzy enough to pop on it's own. "I uh.. I heard about this.. uh, technique. Air pressure," he mutters, the cork popping a moment later though most assuredly in no way because of the bubbles in the wine. No, she can see or feel the use of his Physical, even if she can't see exactly what he's doing. He turns around, cork in one hand and bottle in other, a somewhat uncertain smile on his lips.

Lilith watches Corey turn his back and oh man, it's almost cute for her, kind of like watching someone hit the lights or turn a convenient angle when stripping down. It doesn't really matter that his back is turned, though. She has a pretty good idea of what he's capable of from the way she's able to perceive him beyond the physical, for one, and for two, she noticed the slip the other day at the shop floor with the lamp, tiny thing that it was. After wetting her lips, she watches him turn back about face to look at her, then she breaks into a smile of pure brilliance that lights her with the result, absolutely unbridled delight.

It's an utter shift from her natural baseline, that interlude of subtle pride congratulations and delight and... what was it she said earlier? Something about being sunshine breaking through heavy thunderclouds? It's a lot like that, all pressure seeming to come off of her, "Technically, that's probably a little true. But..." Lilith reaches a hand to pluck the cork, her other hand reaching to scoot the glasses she pulled out for pouring, "That was a whole lot of you deciding what was going to happen, dollface."

The brunette woman's fingers curl around the cork to hide what she does in response, though he might see her exerting in a sense. Corey definitely sees what comes after the pulsing squeeze of her fingers. They unfurl out into flat palm gesture and that soft wooden cork has been broken down into even bits like she's mechanically ground it into pieces of cork-confetti. "Much like so. Come sit down and eat with me. When the timer goes off, I'll get up and grab them out to cool, I'm... a sous chef or something, right?"

Yeah, Lilith's kind of acting like she didn't just do that, even though she clearly demonstrated it. Maybe it's a cope-tactic conversation hook for the moment when he might be a little thrown... or maybe not thrown at all. She's doing quite the dance with subtle and overt at the same time like little feelers to see where Corey's comfort level and familiarity actually is... perhaps on a level he might not wittingly entertain.

What Corey is capable of? Pfft. He's just really good with wine bottles. Must be something he learned at college, part of that culinary science stuff he's got going on. That uncertain smile remains in place as he picks up his bowl and spoon and heads to sit down and eat, his predominant emotions spilling out; confusion, suspicion, mild concern. "You've got some grip, Lils," he observes of the crushed cork situation, sounding uneasy.

"I guess a sous chef in regards of there only being two of us, so you're second in command, but prepping things is more commis chef," Corey explains, diverting hard into a familiar topic with no spooky stuff involved. "So, do you think you'd be able to make paella yourself, now you've seen it done?" Then, he scoops his spoon into his bowl and tries his first mouthful of this new dish. Hmm. Not bad.

Lilith ticks her tongue once at Corey's uncertain tinge riding his pretty smile, and it almost sounds like a wordless, backhanded apology before she walks to the trash to clear her palm of the cork pieces. She resists the urge to put them back the way they were, no need to be a dick about things, even if she has her reasons for justifying a little bit of poke, push, and assess. The woman understands repression and denial too, quite well, though she still seems a little uncertain herself whether Corey is in denial to himself or to her for the sake of his own reasons.

The woman wanders to one of the counter chairs where food and wine is set up and perches up to lean and blow on, then take a bite of paella before deciding aloud, "I think so, but I'd have trouble leaving it alone like I should, maybe. Probably wouldn't taste like this, because I think you might be kind of a kitchen god. It's... not just rice, it's everything flavoring everything. And honestly, my rice always feels a little gummy, this is... I don't know. You're doing the right thing with yourself. Not everyone gets to be good at what they like to do."

A delighted smile dawns on Corey's lips, chasing away the previous uncertainty, his blue eyes glittering with pride. "Damn right I'm some kind of god. Not just in the kitchen either, babe," he responds, settling into easy flirtation, away from the things he's totally not repressing or denying for any kind of reason. More seriously, he follows up with, "I'm glad you like it. I'm sure, if you set yourself a timer, you'd learn to leave it be. Otherwise you end up with a mushy rice mix that has too much released starch in it - that's what makes things gummy."

He eats neatly while they talk, enjoying the food without spending too much time on it. "Yeah, I got lucky. I was the guy who tries like three new things every week, then gets bored after a month. Cooking is the only thing that has ever held my attention long enough to pursue," he adds a moment later, before that smile returns. "Well. Almost the only thing." Brow-waggle.

"I'm making a rule you're only allowed to eyebrow waggle me when you're having an eye-tic or seizure. Or I guess, in the event... I do something insane and your brows don't know where to land. Actually, let's call it a guideline, not a rule, that's just bossy." Lilith tilts her head a little to eye Corey while making pretty quick and efficient work of her food-- she is not a picker and pusher when she's hungry and enjoying what she has, by any stretch. She does drain the wine a little quickly, though, between bites with frequency, then refills. After a little lopsided smile at Corey, the timer goes off and she shoves in another bite with standing lean to chew while going for the oven.

Her hand kind of holds up with the oven mitt like she's got something to say when she's finished chewing and pulling things out to cool. But after returning to her wine glass and a standing lean against her tall chair facing Corey, she takes a drink and squints at him with cut of her lashes, "... there's two ways to take that, see. It's either a cute preliminary compliment to me, or I-Fuck-Alot. I think I know which I'm leaning toward, which hell, tall drink of handsome youth, talent, and charm you are, by all means enjoy it, killer. We've established your go-to line still has some legs."

Laughing at the comment about his brow wiggle, Corey cants his head in acceptance of her guideline. He's quiet while he eats the rest of his paella, seeming pleased that she is enjoying her food too; the ultimate compliment to the chef. "Well, maybe I meant it both ways," he responds, entirely unashamed of his supposed man-whore ways, and still smiling. He's just been complimented all kinds of nicely.

"As a pickup line, it works because even if nothing else happens, you get an awesome meal," he then acknowledges, rising to take the empty bowls to the sink, and then finding a serrated knife to cut the choux shells in half with, lengthways, before turning off the oven and popping them back in to dry out in the residual warmth. Checking the time, he then drifts back over to stand beside Lilith, one hand lifting to take her wineglass and set it down on the table if she relinquishes it.

"Pffft, fibber, you did not. And I'm utterly alright with that, if you have sensible bones in your body, you'll learn to weigh the risk versus reward when it comes to pursuit and me. But yes, there is that whole meal bit. Which was fabulous. I'm not trying to be miserably full, though. Eclairs, see." Lilith makes a noise in her throat and rolls her eyes with good nature at Corey's maybe bit, relinquishing the half-filled wine glass she's made a dent in since initial refill. The woman watches it on the way to the table, and she stops leaning on the tall counter chair afterwards to reach and untie the apron from around behind Corey.

"If the pastry is on break and the wine's on break, you're on break now." Lilith tells the guy after unlacing the knot she tied prior, head a bit tilted as she looks up at him afterwards.

"I'm very rarely sensible, but I think the risk of you enslaving me with your demonic wiles is worth the potential reward," Corey assures, his tone dry, the slight slanting of his smile towards crookedness suggesting he's not entirely serious about his level of sensibility. Someone has to be the responsible twin after all, and it certainly isn't Sparrow.

Lifting his hands to tug the apron over his head and off, he lets it drape over the back of the nearest chair, then reaches forwards to cup her face with his hands, thumbs resting along her jawline and fingers resting warmly on either side of her neck. That tilt and upwards look is taken advantage of as he leans down to claim her lips with his own, this kiss rather more demanding than the earlier playfulness, hard and hungry, tongue sweeping along the seam of her lips.

"Idiot." Lilith breathes out to Corey like she means it and doesn't mean it all at the same time, the murmur pointed and marginally more self-deprecating than insulting with deadpanning almost-humor. But she's distracted and he's coming down to meet with her lips right at the time it fires off, and it's a bit like the kiss is the sealing punctuation on that word. Her face tips up into the cup of hands and her mouth meshes quick and hard with his own forward lashes of tongue and hot mingle of breath while met just so. As his tongue lines lines her lips with gliding, her face tips up more with nudge into it, briefly withdrawing her own return before taking a little nip with launch back into the kiss in full afterwards, hot and heavy.

Of course, her mouth and his mouth aren't the only press between the pair, Lilith's hand slips with one at hard loop around the small of Corey's back, and though she's not strong, she's a bit firm with it much like when she manhandled him prior. It brings their bodies to press too while her other hand makes a creep to curl fingers in snag at his shirt and one side of his chest, and if there wasn't cloth barrier, there'd be nails there at sting of skim.

Idiot, yes. It wouldn't be the first time Corey has been called that, with intent or without. Probably won't be the last either, but he's not so bothered about that murmured word. If he's going to be an idiot, he's damned well going to enjoy it, one of his hands sliding back into her hair and curling in amidst the dark locks at the base of her skill. Taking a half-breath as she briefly breaks contact, he meets her return with equal lust, mouth heavy on hers, tongue licking along hers and exploring without cease.

His other hand slides down from her neck, curling away and settling at the base of her spine, fingers splayed over her ass to emphasise that contact and draw her against him all the more snugly in tandem with her own strong pull, his want felt.

... live fast, die young, bad girls do it well...

The music is playing a game with Lilith's ears, over and over, that uncanny little shuffle play lyric line like a mantra low on the speaker system. Corey's not the only idiot in the room and Lilith had quite the month unbeknownst to him. All that needs to go somewhere, doesn't it? Heaven forbid a timer actually go off at the oven because she might not be the only one not in a way to want to hear it singing reality back at them with beep and alarm. Her teeth set on edge as she feeds into the guy's kisses with rampant, almost demanding turn of lust. Not that he needs the demand. But like before in the kitchen with the wine bottle, she seems to be spurring and goading him.

When his hand goes to the small of Lilith's back, she breaks the kiss suddenly with a huff of noise to guide the heat and eagerness of Corey's lips down over her chin to her throat, lashes dropping to close. Her body flexes with purring shudder of melted in cling and roll against the solidity of his own larger frame. She’s hands, he’s hands, they’re breath.

Then she can't help herself. The woman breathes out commentary and warning disclaimer, "...I can hurt you without meaning to. Rare. But know that. And decide right now how much of an idiot you want to be."

Letting his lips wander, kissing and nipping along the side of her throat, Corey murmurs between affections lavished on her skin, "High Chief Idiot," - nip - "of Moronsville," - lick - "Duncelandia." Apparently he's feeling like being quite the village fool, the hand in her hair tugging a little more so he's got all of her throat exposed. His mouth settles with a wet kiss against the curve of her neck meeting her shoulder, teeth scraping, tongue laving. Not quite hard enough to leave a more permanent hickey, but it'll be red for a few hours.

There's a low, rattling groan out of him as she rolls and ripples against his front, the sound deepening an octave, ”I can handle a little hurt, I promise," he then murmurs against her shoulder - a genuine reassurance, no innuendo there, as if he understands that she means the warning as stated.

The hand on her back slides up briefly, then dips under the waistband of those skinny jeans; not far, but enough to tease along the line of her panties, nails scraping lightly over her skin.

Lilith's lips twitch upward just slightly through the parting breath and lust haze of feeling Corey's hot mouth at run on the delicate, thin skin of her throat and neck while notating intermittently just how idiot he is. And when he makes the tug of finger tangle in her hair to bare more to him for taking... she bubbles out a quiet laugh from the throat he can feel with reverb, lips so near and dear, and it's brief and a little darkly tinged with approval. Maybe it's a little surprise or relief, too, he's young and assertive and claiming doesn't generally go with young-- that's often a learning curve, getting to the base of what drives a moment outside of the obvious physical contact and body responses.

She gave her disclaimer and his reply to her response leaves her less uncertain than their prior dance around such things. It's enough. At least... right now. Her lashes are heavily lidded with desire drop, her breathing is quick and shallow and gradually, she edges one step backwards, then another while latched to the dark haired guy, bringing him with her little by little toward the counter between the bar and kitchen where they just ate.

She doesn't dare pull back even an inch far enough in all that to break his tongue and lips and teeth from savaging her neck with want. Her voice is purring with relish when it comes out, "... you better not stop to do a goddamn thing with that oven."

They don’t fuck. But Corey certainly spoils Lilith and gives her one hell of a distraction and tension outlet that’s probably well-overdue considering the way of things lately. And nothing breaks! When it’s done, she gets her damn adorable eclairs in spades. Corey even knows right when to leave instead of hanging around too long or waiting tit for tat so to speak, which she finds charming, not any source of bother like other women or girls might. It’s less to nip in the bud later, see.

Maybe being an idiot for a while isn’t always bad.