14088/Advice is the Hardest Pill to Swallow

Advice is the Hardest Pill to Swallow
Date of Scene:	09 February 2023
Location:	Kitchens - Wayne Manor
Synopsis:	Phoebe attempts to ask Alfred some advice regarding boys. Everything goes precisely the opposite of to plan. Phoebe steals all the hummus to herself, with Bruce having the flu and Alfred being disappointed that he never got the flu shot.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Most of the Wayne Clan have limited, or outright bans from being in the kitchen unsupervised -- Phoebe grew up blue collar turnkey kid, she's used to cleaning up after herself, and she doesn't tend to make too much a mess.

    On the speakers in the kitchen, something with heavy bass is playing, so she's not baking a cake. There's notes of ginger and garlic and lemon in the air, the spiciness of red peppers and the earthy notes of chickpeas.

    ANd the growl of a food processor.

    Phoebe is wearing hang-around clothes; work-out clothes and a compression shirt under a chunky knit sweater, something that came from one of the second-hand stores that she frequented before she lived in the manor.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred is drawn to the kitchen by the sound of bass thumping echoing through the manor from HIS domain. It's curiosity that draws him rather than wrath, especially as he steps into the doorway and sees that it's Phoebe making all the noise. It's not really his type of music, but at least she's not the sort to leave filthy bowls stacked in the sink. His nose wrinkles as he sorts out the scents in the air. Some kind of southast asian dish?

"May I assume," he starts, then realizes he can't be heard over the music, and calls out more loudly, "May I assume that you're making enough for everyone, and as such I can take the night off?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Alfred!" Phoebe states over the thumping bass, and then she reaches for her phone, pulled out of the sweater pocket to turn it down to human levels. She looks embarrassed, giving a soft sound as she rubs the back of her head, under her braids as she looks to Alfred.

    "I'm sorry Alfred, I think it crept up on me. The volume, I mean." she states, giving an embarrassed smile. "And I don't think anyone would mind if you took the night off. I mean, as long as they like spicy hummus with ginger and carrot sticks. Was making some for patrol too." she explains, stopping the food processor and lifting the lid, grabbing a spoon and offering a bit to Alfred for his approval.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Music from the kitchen? That wasn't Alfred. An easy deduction for the great detective that was Bruce Wayne. This may be why his approach toward the kitchen slows to eavesdrop on the conversation that has picked up between Alfred and Phoebe. He had been worried about the latter recently. It was all too easy to stick to the shadows and listen in a few moments before making the decision on whether he should enter or not.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"Not to worry," Alfred accepts the apology, though rubs at an ear with one knuckle as if checking himself for tinnitus, before he steps fully into the room. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure hummus and carrot sticks would serve as a full meal." At least they're eating SOMETHING. The nights he's spent worrying as dinner slowly grew cold, and worse yet, the occassional fast food wrapper he's found while cleaning up - horrifying.

He accepts the spoon and tastes the concoction, smacking his lips lightly. "Mm, not bad. Perhaps a bit more garlic?" he suggests. He turns to the big refrigerator to take out some beef roast that went uneaten the night before. If they didn't want it when it was gourmet, then they can have it as sandwiches, he reasons.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I don't want the garlic to overpower the ginger, and the lemon's not as strong as I really wanted it but the acid would break down the chickpea too much to make it less 'mush'-y and more liquidy. And no one likes a liquid hummus." Phoebe counters, and she cracks a small smile. "It's a full meal to me, depending on how much hummus I eat." she explains her culinary thought process. "Used to make it all the time when I was living in New York and didn't wanna eat out of the Bar Food."

    She takes a deep breath, and she tilts her head back a moment before she side-eyes over to Alfred.

    "So... 'bout my transponder getting from point A to the Cauldron real fast recently without me blipping on the map..."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Food. The talk of such earns a little gurgle of reminder from his stomach that he knows isn't something which can be overheard. It still sounded so very loud to him. With the topic of conversation shifting from the best composition of hummus to a much more interesting one.

How had Phoebe been getting around quickly without moving from point A to point B in a straight line?

The answer was obvious to Bruce. Hearing it from her would still be good though.

A shift of his weight allows him to lean one shoulder into the wall while he stands pointedly eavesdropping the pair. If some one were to walk by there would be no denying what he was doing.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"Indeed," Alfred replies calmly, selecting a meat cleaver from the knife rack and examining the edge for sharpness. He shoots Phoebe a faux-thoughtful look over the knife. "About that."

And then he starts briskly chopping up the roast into sandwich sized pieces. "I don't suppose it would have anything to do with this friend-who-happens-to-be-a-boy figure who keeps coming up in the rumor mill?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That depends." Phoebe answers dryly. "Some of the rumor mill think I'm actually dating Tim. Some think I'm dating Representative Cupp in secret, and others have reported that I'm dating a squidman." Phoebe states, and she breathes out, and then just hops up onto the counter to sit near the hummus, and dip her carrot sticks in it, like some sort of Heathen.

    "... he's... a guy I'm interested in, yeah, we've been hanging out. I'm thinking about inviting him for dinner sometime, y'know?" she states quietly, and examines her carrot stick for treachery.

    "I'm just nervous because he's got..."

    She frowns. "History."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The dreaded topic. Boys. Relationships. Bruce is a bit surprised by it even though he too had heard such rumors. A mental note is made to look into this boy and his 'history' thoroughly. The moment of eavesdropping is over for now as he finds himself outing his arrival with a deep, throaty cough that he can't quite stifle.

A step is taken into the doorway with a hand raising to cover his mouth with his fist politely. Oddest part yet was the fact that he was still wearing a house robe and pajama bottoms along with a pair of suitable slippers. Not fuzzy. Just classy.

"Pardon. I thought I'd get a bite to eat." His voice is a bit more gravelly than usual. Though he nods to Phoebe, pretending he hadn't heard anything, his attention moves to Alfred working at the roast.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred shoots Bruce a cool glance, showing his disapproval of his choice of attire without making a point of it. "Master Bruce. Sandwiches will be available momentarily." He gets back to chopping, although he nudges one bit of the cold cut meat aside with a pinky, so it's available to be snatched up and snacked on. Like an appetizer.

But, his primary attention turns back to Phoebe. "If you want to invite him to dinner, I'll just need to know about any food allergies." Pragmatic. "But what sort of history, then? From your reaction it seems you think I won't approve."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe had choked on her carrot and hummus when Bruce walked in. She feels her eyes go wide as saucers as she gives a hard swallow, and then just motions at Alfred behind Bruce's back, flailing a moment.

    "... partially yours, partially it was Bruce's." she motions to the sick head of the household.

    "He's active in a group that I left by Bruce's request for my mental health. And he's... a little rough around the edges." she admits, and then she turns to Bruce, and offers the food processor cup full of hummus and the pile of carrot sticks.

    "Just coming off patrol?" she questions.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce Wayne can only clear his throat in response to the look Alfred shoots his way. The nudged bit of roast is reached for to subtly sneak away for a nibble while he waits for sandwiches. "Yes, what's his name, Phoebe?" Either he had heard from the start or he was rolling with it.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"That would be, what, those Justice League people?" Alfred asks casually, sounding unconcerned as he finishes chopping up the meat, and moves to the pantry for a loaf of bread. Proper bread, soft on the inside, crunchy on the outside. He selects another knife from the rack and begins to cut it into good hearty slices. "Unless he was the reason you needed to leave, I can't see why that would be a problem."

He pauses briefly, glancing up at the words 'rough around the edges,' and smiles privately as he looks back down and starts slicing again. "I was a bit rough around the edges myself," he comments, "once upon a time. So, other than the fact he apparently drives like a maniac I'm not hearing the problem yet."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It's a little bit more than the driving..." she breathes out, and she looks up to Bruce.

    "Robbie Reyes. One of the Ghost Riders. We have an agreement that he's not to get involved with the Bats. Jason and Austin ran into him at a fight club, they were in armor and I was plainclothes and we had to extract the target while I stalled him. He was also present the night that bunch of ninjas attacked the Clock Tower." she states, trying to keep her voice even, and she breaks a carrot stick in half.

    "He had me over for dinner a couple weeks ago. I figured I might return the favor."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The name causes Bruce to paise mid-nibble of the bit of roast. It's all taken in. The roast. The conversation. The name of the fellow he was familiar with. Naturally he was. He was one of the Justice League liasons with the Dark crew though he had only visited once since their recent reorganization.

"The mechanic with a younger brother that he cares for." At least he's potentially looking on the bright side of things.

"The one posessed by a demon." If there's disapproval in his tone it's difficult to tell right now with the fact that he sounds hoarse from the cold he'd been denying the last several days. A small grunt is given.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"A demon," Alfred repeats, as if he knows what he heard but wants to pretend he didn't actually hear that. He lets out a light sigh and mutters something to himself that might have been, "Well, what did you /expect/?" as he turns back to the refrigerator and gets out some cheese slices and horseradish. These he plunks down on the counter alongside the meat and bread and declares, "Dinner is served."

As he starts putting together his own sandwich, though, he gives Bruce a narrow look and suggests, "Ah, perhaps some soup to go with it? I'm sure I still have some of that last batch of the beef vegetable in the freezer." What? Even Alfred can't make EVERYTHING from scratch. It pays to keep some things on hand for immediate access.

He turns back to Phoebe. "Well, if you find him worth associating with, then he must have something that outweighs the... demon. That bit about his brother sounds promising. If you're asking MY permission to have him to dinner, I've no objection. It's Master Bruce you'll need to convince."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I know. My luck with dealing with demons is oh-for-two--" Phoebe begins, "... at the moment..." she adds, and then she takes a deep breath, and she looks to Alfred, and then to Bruce, and she stirs the hummus with a carrot stick as she continues to sit on the counter and eat out of the food processor bowl. Was she raised in a barn?

    "But... he's got good control over things. And I'm doing the research to see if I can't mimic my 'dampening' ring --" she holds up her left wrist, showing her white-ink tattoo.

    "You know. The one that if I unbound just being around me would kill off the influenza-A you got goin' on there, Bruce?"

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"That sounds nice." The remark is made in a definite 'Brucey' way at the mention of soup. Even if it were frozen. It was still home made and thus far superior to the stuff out of a can that might be scrouged together otherwise. Provided such a thing would even survive in the cupboards Alfred regularily polices just to throw out such travesties.

There were more important things to discuss so the topic of soup is brushed over while he steps up to start piling up a sandwich of his own with a hefty serving of that horse radish to burn through his illness. Surely, that will work.

The urge to condemn Phoebe's apparent love interest wars within him momentarily. A look is spared toward Alfred before he responds once more. "Sure, bring him by, love to meet him." It's the Brucey voice again. Or it would be if not for the hoarseness he already had going on. Saying 'no' to bad love interests had never gone well for him in the past.

Phoebe's suggestion causes him to pause abruptly. The top slice of bread is plopped down onto the pile of fixings he'd already prepared. "I'm barely sick at all. It's better to have the immunity for later as well."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred allows himself a bite of his own sandwich before he sets it down and heads over to the freezer to look for the soup among the stacks of neatly labeled containers. Other than having to move a carton of rocky road ice cream that someone stuffed haphazardly in, he finds it quickly and without issue. He dumps the frozen block into a soup pan and begins heating it on the stovetop.

"Just so long as no demons get set loose in my kitchen," he quips, pretending to be cranky about it. Phoebe was quick enough to defend him when the bloody VAMPIRE was on his neck, so he has a fair amount of confidence in her abilities there.

He gives Bruce a stern look as he retrieves his own sandwich to munch on while monitoring the soup. "You probably wouldn't be sick at all if you'd gotten the flu shot when I reminded, cajoled, and finally harangued you about it."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I'm not asking you as the one everyone on the outside of the family sees." Phoebe states, and she looks to Alfred, and then back to Bruce.

    "Because the longer he's in Gotham, if he stumbles upon us and he starts seeing the same faces he's going to figure out who people are, he's already encountered Austin and Jason. He's been around Red Robin. He knows I'm both a Wayne and work with the Bats." Phoebe states, a little hoarsely. "He's not dumb. And if keeping my b- if keeping everyone safe means he doesn't come over for dinner, I'll handle it." she states, and she cracks another one of her carrot sticks in half.

    "And Alfred's right. This years strains are really bad. I thought everyone was on an immunization schedule? Did you override it? And you already have the T-cells at work in your body and have the genetic code of the virus in your biological code safe, Bruce, if I healed you now you're still going to have it!"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"Shush," Alfred gibes Phoebe gently. "The ocassional illness is good for his ego."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce Wayne can't even argue about the vaccination when Alfred points that out. A stiff shrug is given in turn. "End of year issues at work kept me in the office longer than I intended. It was already going around by the time it came up." In other words, he had put it off and it caught up with him.

It really was difficult to give the situation the proper attention it deserved while his head was drumming up another headache. Phoebe is fixed with a stern look. "I've gone with the story that I fund the vigilantes of Gotham before." With those who he didn't completely trust to know his identity. It would get out eventually. When was the question. His lips purse tight together.

"Is this some one you really trust with our lives, Phoebe? Not just yours. Every one. As for healing, I don't keep you around to abuse your powers." He leans into the topic a bit. Then the sandwich earns a bite only for his face to turn steely so he doesn't betray the fact that he'd just made himself take a mouthful of horseradish with some bread, cheese and roast to help clear his sinuses. They could both be stubborn.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred gives the heated soup a stir and a quick taste test. He adds a pinch each of salt and pepper, then pours it into a big bowl and sets it in front of Bruce where the rising steam can help him with that sinus trouble. A moment later, he also sets down a glass of water and some tylenol.

"Perhaps it oughtn't be the /whole/ family," he suggests. "It wouldn't do for him to begin recognizing voices. I could arrange a lovely setting for two in one of the smaller dining rooms."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well what *am* I kept around for then?" she asks quietly, and she breathes out, and then just brings her head down.

    "Nevermind. It was a stupid idea anyway. I trust him. I trust him implicitly to the point where he's allowed to put his hands on me without me flipping out and trying to set him on fire. That doesn't mean he gets to have access to the family." she states, and she hops off the counter *taking the bowl of the food processor with her* along with a bag of carrot sticks.

    "I'm sorry I mentioned it. I'll keep him out of the way of everyone else."

    She looks to Bruce, and then to Alfred. "It's safer for everyone that way."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred blinks, his mouth full of another bite of sandwich, confusion causing his eyes to squint as he hurriedly chews and swallows hard so he can speak. "Where did that come from?" he asks, and if it comes out a bit sharply, perhaps it can be attributed to hurt feelings on his part. He does have them, stoic front though he may present.

He looks at Bruce, then back to Phoebe. "I thought I'd been clear that I'd be happy to accomodate you bringing your... your friend over. He knows you're a Wayne; it's not as if simply having dinner with you at the manor would reveal dire secrets."

He gives Bruce an intense look, a clear 'fix this' with his eyes. It's really more for him to say why he 'keeps her around,' anyway. One really does not want to disappoint Alfred when he gives one that look.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce Wayne wraps his hands around the bowl that Alfred serves up with a quiet nod of thanks. The heat certainly did help. Along with the spice of the sandwich. Phoebe's depreciating remark earns a deeply drawn breath. Likely Alfred was already glaring at him. He'd stepped in it again hadn't he.

"I mean you're more important than just your magic, Phoebe. You're a talented young woman with so much potential that deserves far better than you've gotten in the past."

Wracking his foggy brain for the right words he continues. Slow but steady, assured of his statements. "I know I'm not the easiest to get along with. I have a lot of rules and expectations for every one." Just where was he going with this? "You needed some stability in your life, and I -" A glance is given to Alfred feeling the weight of his gaze. "I need people in my life that can help to remind me that I am human and need help at times in spite of how stubborn I can be."

The bowl of soup is picked up in one hand ignoring the heat of it seeping into his fingers. The other takes up his sandwich plate. "Have him over. I just want you to think seriously about how serious you are with him." Here he finally stops to consider how awful he was being at explaining himself tonight.

"We can discuss it more later if you would like. For now -"

"Black Bat needs food badly. Followed by a nap." Did he just try to make a video game joke? Maybe he Googled some to better converse with Tim.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    ". . . yeah, yeah you do." Phoebe states, and she lets the aggression and tense feelings out of her shoulders. "Just... do me a favor and do beteter than Tim does at listening to the medical advice? I mean, I'm *only* twenty classes and a rotation away from being a doctor." she states, trying to add levity because she knows some of that aggression was uncalled for. She looks to Alfred, with a little smile, and then toasts to the two eating the roast beef with her hummus, and makes an exit out of the kitchen.

    "If you want a reminder that you're human, the flu is NOT the way to go about it Bruce!"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred modifies his stare to something less severe. A faint smile may even play about the corner of his mouth. The flu may not be the best reminder, but some TLC and empathy in response to it just might.

Being left alone in the kitchen, he looks around, sighs, and decides to put the kettle on before he starts the clean-up.