[closed] unless you really want IC hot pot? in which case lmk

[eighthday]

WHO: TOWERSQUAD (Sunday, Zeke, and An Zhe)
WHAT: Getting hot pot.
WHEN: At...some point.
WHERE: A hot pot place?
WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence might come up as a subject, will update as tags roll along.

[But.

But they're at the hot pot place, which we really need to name at some point. Cheerful Calf? Boiling Point? Anyway. Hot pot. Food is being fooded. Do they have mushrooms or is there a blanket ban on that after the time An Zhe nearly went into the pot?

Most of this is besides the point.]

What do you do when you can't sleep?

[And Sunday asks this super casually because...he's not asking for himself, per se. But you know when you ask something so super casually it might go the whole way around to suspicious? Yeah. Yeah maybe a little bit of that is happening here.]

Comments

[hyphanated]

[Maybe the hot pot place is called HPOT! Also, An Zhe will not ban mushrooms but will definitely exude a silent yet palpable air of disapproval whenever they order any.

That aside, he's never actually had hot pot before (unless you count the time he nearly went into the pot), and is intently focused on figuring out the best time to pick out the various ingredients that have gone in. (Gosh, those fishballs sure are slippery, aren't they?) He does look up at the question though.]

I don't know...I don't usually have trouble sleeping.

[Zero suspicion from this end!]

[eighthday]

[I'm godmoding Zeke and saying he's in the bathroom or running a half hour late or something because it's funnier. Anyway.]

Is that so? [...] These days, it seems like everyone I know is having problems sleeping.

[For the record, he fucking hates the mess of hot pot but also he's growing addicted to it, help.]

[hyphanated]

[RIP Zeke, fallen in a toilet...]

Really? ...Maybe they're too hungry to sleep?

[Eat more hotpot, Sunday! Have some meat! Food coma!]

[eighthday]

[Listen, it's good for him. He's in a better place, drowning.]

...maybe you're not wrong. ["Maybe you're not wrong" what a terrible way of wording that sentence, what the heck him.]

I mean that, now you have me thinking about it, I don't even know what they eat or when they eat, or if they eat at all.

[This Feels Weird. It's such a messy shared food.]

[hyphanated]

.....Doesn't everyone eat, though? Even plants need nutrients.

[This confusing topic has momentarily distracted An Zhe from the hotpot, but give him a minute and he might be kind enough to drop a piece of meat in Sunday's bowl.]

[eighthday]

[Look, all of this is- why is there meat in his bowl...

...nom.]

Well. Yes. I'm sure you're right and they eat something as they're only human, but I've had to force them into meals more than once and whenever I asked what was the last time they had something, I usually don't like the answer I hear.

...but it's fine. In the end it's not my business.

[hyphanated]

[You're talking about people not eating and you seem to be having some kind of internal struggle with the pot, so here is food in your bowl! Easy pickings!

Also An Zhe is giving you a concerned look now, Sunday.]

If they're human, but they won't eat food...what if they're sick? That wouldn't be good.

[eighthday]

That's what I wonder but everyone says they're fine whenever I ask, and act like they're fine, and some people I know died when I was growing mouse ears so they're obviously not fine, and-

[He's going to eat hot pot instead of continuing to rant, what of it.]

[hyphanated]

[But why would you suddenly cut yourself off mid-sentence...!!

He blinks at Sunday, thrown off by the half-rant and the sudden interest in food—not that the food's not interesting.]

Is it the people who died, that say they're fine? If they're alive again, doesn't that mean they are fine now?

[finalpitch]

( Zeke now appears, looking distinctly damp. He's not dripping. It's obvious he was sometime not so long ago, given the fact his shirt, white, is now sticking to him and all but see-through. At least he's wearing tan slacks. Water there just looks like he met an angry hose and lost the battle.

He looks mildly apologetic in the manner of an absentminded professor who wanders into his own office hours surprised that anyone showed up, and confused as to why you're there until you remind him what the time is, and that it's set aside for activities like these. He gestures to himself as he pulls out a chair to sit at the table, not having caught their conversation flow yet. )

What were we talking about?

I'm sorry, the bathroom... then the sink... someone did manage to turn off the water... you know.

( At least he doesn't have his unnecessary glasses anymore, or they'd have been water streaked too. )

[eighthday]

[In the process of shoving a bit of meat in his mouth, Sunday doesn't quite spit it out so much as chews very slowly, with the implication that if things were slightly different he absolutely would've either choked or done a spit take.]

Are you... [Uh.] All right, Zeke? [Give him a bit to remember that winter powers means that he could fix the wet thing right this second.]

[finalpitch]

( He stares down at the chair, making sure there's nothing that'll absorb water in it, before sitting down only a little gingerly. He waves a hand in Sunday's general direction, then in An Zhe's for good measure. )

I'm fine, fine, just a little... moist? How's the meal?

( He smiles. This much is at least sincere, though considering again his hair is all... damp... it's also like he just jumped out of the shower to join them here, fresh faced. Except that he only went to the restaurant's bathroom. And he'd only needed to pee. )

[eighthday]

It's a perfectly fine meal.

[He says, channeling his inner Asian auntie and putting some meat into Zeke's bowl because apparently that's what they're doing, what the fuck is going on here.]

You didn't... [What's a good way of asking this.] Anger anyone, did you?

[hyphanated]

[Yeah! Round table meat-in-bowl-ing!

Since Sunday's taken over inquiring into what happened, and as An Zhe is a mushroom with a natural fondness for moisture, he's just gonna start gradually sapping the water from Zeke's...everything, while eating almost as slowly. Humans don't normally like to be this wet, right? He's not entirely sure, and doesn't want to interrupt, but it looks like there's plenty of water to go around, so.....

He's also watching Zeke for his answer with undisguised curiosity.]

[finalpitch]

( Zeke lifts his eyebrows. First, honestly, for the food in his bowl, because he can't recall when anyone last was wondering if he'd eaten, and since he's not playing any particular role anymore he looks briefly pained because he doesn't know how to respond.

Then he's being asked if he angered anyone, and at that, he has to laugh. )

Not here at least. ( Has he been regularly pissing people off elsewhere...? Though now he's noticing he's... getting drier? He looks down at his no longer fully transparent shirt in apparent mild befuddlement. ) The pipe burst. I tried to keep it from spraying the whole bathroom... it took a while for anyone else to walk in and notice.

[eighthday]

I see.

[And Sunday says it sonorously and with profound dignity, like he heard something sincere and comprehensible instead of something fucking weird. It's impressive how much he could get away with by saying something like 'I see' or 'is that so?' with dignity.]

I won't have to do anything, will I? [There's no good way of admitting he has ill defined bullshit psychic powers.]

[hyphanated]

[Zeke isn't commenting on the water thing! Victory!

He glances at Sunday, noticeably befuddled.]

Do you know how to fix burst pipes?

[eighthday]

In a manner of speaking.

[He doesn't know how to do plumbing, but he does know how to do some mind control on some level. All of that said, it's not the sort of polite thing to mention in polite company while eating a polite meal.]

I know how to be persuasive should things come up as an issue.