2019-12-20 - Mo' Pizza, Mo' Bettah

13 Bayside smells like wood-fired pizza, sweet and savory with hit of bacon and garlic. Two pizzas, freshly delivered, rest on the counter in the kitchen, and Sutton's pulled out plates. She's standing in front of the fridge surveying the contents, her pale blonde hair styled in loose waves. The paramedic is off duty, and wears a pair of drawstring scrubs pants, black cotton soft and fitted. Her top is a ribbed, fitted tank top. She wears a hoodie over that, open, only slightly too large for her. It has no logo—it's plain black cotton. Wine or root beer?

The air is cool trending to cold tonight, a gray drizzle falling from an overcast sky. The water is a little choppy, but not terribly so, and the view from the balcony is still quite lovely. Tomorrow, record snowfall is predicted. The first snowfall of the year is not messing around.

"Swear, I need to find out where you order this pizza from. If it's some fancy place that charges out the ass.." Mae trails off as she hip bumps her way into the house, towing Dylan with her. She's wearing jeans, a long sleeved shirt, with flannel over it. It's lumberjack season! She leans over, unties her boots and then steps out of them. Her socks are rainbow with toes. Nice. She points to the wine as she makes her way toward the plates.

"How you doing? Ready for the snow storm? I might call off work, I'm not walking through a ton of snow. I don't have boots that I want to ruin." She glances at Dylan and grins. "What kind of pizza you want babe?"

A big, huge look of pure innocence is settled on Dylan's features as Mae talks to him, as if he just doesn't know in the least what she's talking about. Of course, that only makes him look more guilty! He? Hasn't taken any chances with this whole cold front coming through. Unfortunately, his attire always consists of hand me downs from his dad, which is stuck in the 70s. It's a big, brown pair of coveralls that he wears, with pink and purple paint splattered over it, somehow. He also has on a pair of ruber boots.

"Guess there goes trip," He heaves out with a sigh, head turning to stare up at the ceiling. And that baleful thought is what dictates his choice of pizza, all wrapped up in wishful thinking of where they should be. "Hawaiian." Comes his answer.

"You just gotta tell them well done. Makes a huge difference." Sutton calls from the kitchen, "You want root beer, wine, tea, or..." She squints. "Coke?" She pulls out a Coke for herself, thumping it lightly onto the counter. "Snow? No, not at all. I don't know how likely we are to actually get what they predicted. Most of my shit's back in boxes taking up most of the floor in the shed and guest room. I don't even know where my hiking boots are. At least they're sure to plow this road." All the richies live here after all.

She puts out a couple of drink options. "Cups are in that cupboard," she points to one of the overhead cabinets. "I'm off tomorrow by luck, but I might get called in if shit gets bad. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, loves."

"So you compliment the people who make the pizza before they do it or when they do it so that.. they do it better?" Mae stands still for a moment, mentally jumping through the hoops that that requires. Pizza people aren't usually the ones that you flatter, maybe though, that's why Sutton is getting better pizza. She points to the wine. She wants wine. She can also pour herself wine, so she does. "I lived in New York and Chicago, and I'm used to snow. I just don't like it all that much." She sniffs and pulls pieces of pizza from boxes to put them on plates. She holds one out for Dylan and snags him some root beer.

"I won't be out complicating matters. I'm gonna stay home and watch it snow. Order out early so I have food." A beat. "Thai maybe. Hot food, cold weather."

The whole process of better pizza is listened to, all of it filed away as potential things to do to get better delivery. His eyes flicker around the house, soaking it all in. "Get groceries. I'll practice cooking," Comes his conclusion about what else they can do, even as he takes that plate, a beaming, thankful smile cast towards Mae, and then he grabs the root beer offered to him as well. This? Will absolutely work for the artist. "We'll go sledding," Comes the next declaration as to what they should do with the snow, "If enough." Up and down his head bobs at that, before he peers around to find a place to pull up and settle in at.

"No, I mean if you order this from the place and get it regular, they don't crisp it up so good and the cheese only bubble some of the time." Sutton has serious specs for her pizza. She pops open her Coke, sipping before she plates up two slices of bacon and extra cheese. "Thai is great snow food."

Sutton mms, "Oh, right, if you see a cat..." She pulls out her phone to cue up some music via bluetooth speaker. "Only pet her if her tail isn't swishing. She's sweet, but she's also a little on the feral side of house cat, so it's best not to provoke her." That's a great pet they have here for sure. She picks up a plate, carries her Coke out, and moves to take a seat on the couch in the living room. "A pot of chili sounds good. Maybe I'll hit Safeway too."

Mae remembers Hope and she isn't touching the cat unless the cat insists on it. She takes a seat, pulling her feet up so she can balance her plate on her knees. She picks up a piece of her pizza and takes a bite. "Here is the problem, Dylan. You want to practice cooking. It sounds good in theory, but what if something bad happens? I like to eat, and if I have to order take out and there is snow on the roads.. " She watches him for a few moments, chewing on her pizza. "I'll get groceries, if nothing else we can eat raw ingredients, I've seen people do that. Like.. in salads."

She glances around for the cat, making sure she's not invaded some invisible territory. She takes another bite of pizza. "I should give cooking another go eventually. Maybe."

Dylan's features all crease up at the mention of the cat, and his head starts craning every which way, even to peer beneath the furniture. It's hard to say if he's just looking to protect his feet, or wanting to risk his fingers in a, 'will the cat rip shreds of flesh off for petting it' game, but either way, his attention soon turns to the pizza, taking a big bite out of it. "Uuuhhmmm," Comes Dylan's consideration for the potential of starving due to his cooking, and it sounds like that? Might be a Real Probability, given there aren't any quick reassurances given.

"Mac and cheese." A beat of a pause. "Ramen noodles." Another moment, "Canned chili." This he seems certain he can make as fall backs, even if it does sound like a rather haphazardous dinner mixture. "You should!" He agrees, before his full focus falls on Sutton. Right. "What do you do?"

Sutton drops turns her back to the couch arm on her side, crossing her legs on the cushion, plate in her lap. She faces the two of them, picks up a pieces of pizza, and shoves it into her mouth. She pulls a face at the mention of salad, takes another bite of pizza, and watches them discuss their plans. It's kind of funny when she's not the one trying to light the kitchen on fire.

Hope the cat is nowhere to be found. She might not even be in the house. Considering the wide range of her meandering these days, she could very well be perched on a rooftop downtown looking for more people to follow around.

"Mac and cheese is an excellent choice." Sutton shakes her head at canned chili, but doesn't comment on that. Eesh. "Paramedic with GHFD."

Mae is still eating pizza and then comes the moment, like a light bulb in a dark room. "Did I ever introduce you two?" She puts her pizza down, squints and then takes a drink of her wine. "Fuck me, my hostess skills are almost as bad as my cooking skills." She takes a deep breath and glances at Dylan. "Also, just putting this out there, if you want me to cook, you are a very brave man."

She takes another sip of wine. "Maybe I'll learn how to make mac and cheese then. Or .. eggy whatevers. Or toasted cheese.." She is, of course, teasing the paramedic. "Dylan this is Sutton. She sends me naughty text messages and helps me drink overly large cocktail fishbowls with gummy fish." She points her pizza toward Dylan. "This is the man I'm probably going to marry, because he's the only one who continues to put up with me...." She takes a bite of her pizza. "...and encourages me to cook."

"Prefer supportive," Dylan coos out to Mae, a lopsided smile cast her way when she says he is brave. "Not introduced," He confirms, and once Mae takes care of that part? A hand lifts to give a big wave, "Artist. Going school," And then a big drink of root beer is taken, just as Mae continues on with her statements. About marriage and encouraging cooking. A cough splutter choke comes as everything goes down the wrong pipe, but thankfully he has at least enough politeness to put his food and drink down where it won't be spilled before he keels over onto the ground.

After a few seconds his head pops back up, those big blue eyes looking from Sutton to Mae as he strangles out the most important question, "Gummy fish?"

"Eggy toast. Fried egg in butter toast, either as a nest or on top of it. Excellent choice. Eggy sandwiches are a fried egg, bacon, shredded cheddar cheese on toast. They're two of the things I can make that always come out good." Sutton has a small army of recipes. "Luckily, Alistair is much better at the stove." Not that it takes a lot. "He makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich."

"Mainly we prefer takeaway, because who has time to cook when the town keeps trying to kill you?" Sutton waves with her pizza slice, consuming it down to the crust. Chewy, delicious, wood-fire crust. She grins at the intro, particularly the naughty texts part. "Dylan." She glances from Mae to the younger man. "Sounds like a great reason to her hitched." She gestures briefly with the crust then eats it, bite by bite. "Artist, huh? Do you like school?" She nods then, "Mm, the Deuce makes a fish bowl full of gummis and alcohol. It's pretty tasty, but I usually go for the bourbon, wine, or vodka." She doesn't drink tequila anymore.

"I can't finish one of the fish bowls, but it's on my bucket list." Mae takes another bite of her pizza and then sets the plate aside. "So I guess I'm gonna try to make chili this weekend." She pulls out her phone and starts to hunt up a recipe with a video to help her along. "I'm weird about eggs. I like them fine, and sometimes I even want to eat them -- especially deviled. Oh my god, but then there are times when I don't want them within ten feet of me." She shrugs, and taps her phone with her fingers.

She manages not to laugh when Dylan chokes on his drink, but the smile happens, because she is very amused.

"Gummies AND alcohol?" Already this idea seems to be rambling around in Dylan's brain, one eye narrowing critically as he considers the potential applications to other potential types of gummies beyond just fish. "Love grilled cheese," Out his own phone comes, all to jot down a few things on his own list of shopping to do before snowmegeddon comes blowing in. "School is," His features scrunch up, trying to find the right word for it. "Useful. Helpful." A beat of a pause, his eyes turning to focus on Sutton, "Love art. Making a comic." He explains.

And then? Even a few more words come, "Hoping to becom a," His head bobbles back and fourth to find just the right words that will resonate, "concept artist? Movies. Shows. Like that." Eventually. Everyone has a dream. It's a sidelong, peering look that Mae gets when she is ever so amused, a hrmph coming before that big smile returns to his features.

"Chili's one you can do from a recipe, keep the heat low, let it go all day." Sutton picks up her seconds slice and makes short work of that one. She learned to eat on the run, little time between calls, neat and efficient. "Gummis and alcohol," she agrees. And then looks to Dylan and nods. "Grilled cheese is one of my favorite foods, so that means you must be good people."

"Yeah? My brother lived for comics. Cop in his late 20s, still buying comics at the shop every week." She wipes her hands off on a napkin and takes a sip of her Coke. "Yeah? Like story boards and all that? Design through the process? Sounds like a cool idea. I'd like to see some sometime. Maybe sometime around New Years."

"Ugh, New Year. I have a feeling that's gonna be a long night at work." Mae wrinkles her nose and slumps down a bit in her chair. "I should probably jet though, and drag this boy home. Stop at Safeway on the way and hunker down for the duration." She takes another bite of pizza and looks as if she doesn't want to get up. "We should do that brunch thing around New Year. Mimosa's, waffles or crepes, weird hats and fancy dresses."

She pushes to her feet, groaning as she raises her hands over her head to stretch. "Sad I missed the Brit, he was so nice last time, wasn't he? How drunk were we?"

"The best," Dylan coos to Sutton about how good of a person he is, and then his head bobs up and down in agreement with her summary. "Yeah! Would be fun. Hard," To get into at least, his features all scrunching up at the thought of it. "Will show you," He promises, before a look down at his coveralls shows that he wasn't fully spared.

"Get extra groceries," He says, even as he starts to shove the last of his pizza in his mouth, mumbling something else that just can't be heard. He even grabs an extra slice, just because, all ready to be trundled home with Mae.

Sutton rises from the couch with her plate and what's left of her drink. "I think I'm working New Years too. Can't have all the holidays off. I had to call in some favors to get Christmas." Especially after all the time she took off this year. But she doesn't mention that. Lot of recovery time. "That sounds really good, Mae. Brunch, a nice table, good food and company." Not to mention the mimosas. "You two be safe. The temperature's dropping out there. I'll look forward to seeing your art, Dylan. My pleasure to meet you." She lingers in the living room, putting down her plate to see them to the door. "You're welcome any time."

Mae steps up to give Sutton a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be in touch, of course. You won't believe what kind of shit I've got to gossip with you about." She shrugs into her coat, following Dylan out the door. "We'll plan for brunch. I'm most excited about the mimosa's." She wiggles her fingers at the blonde before she adds. "Give my bet to your Brit."

Sutton smiles and returns those kisses, her hand flicking through the ends of Mae's long, beautiful hair. "I'll look forward to it, pet. Stay warm." Give her best to the Brid? "Oh, I will. Night."

When the door opens to let the couple out, a little piece of shadow breaks of from the hedgerow and Hope-kitty zips inside!

"There you are. I hope you didn't kill anything tonight, H." Sutton closes the door after them all, shivering at a sharp gust of wind that cuts inside. "Shit. It really is gonna snow tomorrow, isn't it?"