ArchivedLogs:Culinary Hero

Culinary Hero
Cupcake Crusader?
Dramatis Personae Hanna, Melinda
In Absentia	2014-03-27 Hanna finally catches up with Mel. With pastries.
Location <NYC> BoM Safehouse - Lower East Side
One small room in the safe house has been co-opted by Melinda and tailored to fit her specific needs for the time being. A queen sized mattress (her own) has been stuffed on one end of the room, taking up all of one wall and two thirds of the adjacent wall space. It is covered with a variety of pillows, everything from full body pillows to u-shaped pillows, vain attempts to help a pregnant woman on bed rest stay comfortable. There are also an assortment of blankets over the pale blue sheets, each different blanket suiting a different season as the weather outside, from a light weave summer blanket to a very plush comforter good down to 30 degrees. Beside the bed and perpendicular to the sliding closet doors, there is a night stand and a cooler, the nightstand providing a place for Mel to keep her laptop entertainment, with drawers for snacks and a cooler for fresher food. Light filters in between the slats of the boarded over window, but the glass is intact on the inside, and overhead and table side lamps light the room in the darker hours. Lunch time at the Safehouse brings with it the smell of minestrone, straight from the can, wafting through the air even into Melinda's bedroom. She hasn't managed to acquire any yet, as it is still in its heating up stage, so she is just laying there in bed with her stomach grumbling loudly. Her attention is fixed on a magazine she is flipping though, a dictionary of baby names on the nightstand beside her, a marker left in the L names. The indolent Wendy has a small wrinkle between her brows, her lips pursed in frustration at the page - that is, until someone shows Hanna in to her room after knocking lightly on the door. The concern evaporates when she looks up. Hanna knows better than to arrive empty handed to a visit, so the baker may have taken a few minutes after arrival to distribute boxes of fresh cupcakes and pastries to the kitchen and living room before being guided to Mel's room. As such, she has a bowl if minestrone balanced in one hand, fresh off the stove with a slice of fresh bread balanced on top of it, while the other hand holds a small parcel of bright pink and yellow Happy Cakes boxes. Both hands and wrists are still wound around with white gauze, freshly changed, but other than that, Hanna seems in decent spirits. Her outfit, however, is less than her normal perfectly styled 50s house-wife attire, opting instead for a pair of flattering blue jeans and a spring-green sweater that flatter her full figure well. "Hey Mel," Hanna says with a bright smile, warmth and cheer all but radiating off of her, "Had meant to visit you sooner. But I grabbed lunch - and if you'd rather skip and go right to dessert, I brought that too." She looks over Mel apprisingly, and nods, setting the box down on the cooler offering the soup, "How're you doing?" "Bah," Melinda replies, scooting back in the bed to give Hanna an edge to sit on, stuffing her laptop under the pillows at the head of the bed. "Don't apologize. Everything's been crazy lately and it's perfectly understandable that you had some bigger things on your plate." She stretches out to help make a little space on the night stand for her lunch, eyeing the pink box speculatively. "I should probably be good and eat the soup first." She considers for a little while longer though. "So, how are you? I 'heard' that Jayna hit her head pretty hard. I've been worried." There's an airy quality to 'heard' that makes it somewhat vague and possibly inaccurate. Hanna shakes her head, accepting the seat on the bed and nodding, "Crazy is an apt description indeed. Jayna hit her head on the counter top when the bomb went off, nasty gash and swelling, we think. She was a bit touch and go there for a day or so, but Corey was kind enough to come sit with her for a bit. Can't take her to a hospital." She runs a hand through her hair, mussing the simple braid as she does, admitting guiltily, "Thankfully we were far enough up that the fire didn't get to us, otherwise it would have been much worse for her. I just burned my hands on the fire escape trying to get us out." She looks down at her hands and shrugs, her eyes flickering dark for a moment, "Can't believe it happened though. Feels a bit like it's all a bad dream. So many people hurt, physically or other." Her chipper demeanor rebounds, though, at mention of the soup, "Probably should eat lunch, but I promise not to tell if you go for the pastries first. I know I do often enough." "Did you take her to the Mendel Clinic?" Mel asks curiously, her brows climbing her forehead and wrinkling it. "It's a horrible tragedy, that's for certain. I saw it from the outside and I still can't quite wrap my head around it." She stuffs a few more pillows under her ribcage as she pushes herself into a sideways sitting up position, pulling the bowl over a moment later to start putting some of the soup inside her. "You guys holding up okay? I have no idea if you have a place to stay, but there's space here if you need it. The people in charge are especially keen on making sure physically obvious mutants don't end up on the streets after the explosion. And, I guess, potentially mutated babies." She glances down at her belly sheepishly. "It... it didn't even occur to me," Hanna admits sheepishly at mention of the clinic, shaking her head, "It was just so crazy, and... god I'm a moron." She hangs her head slightly, sighing. "We're holding up okay. Remember the spare rooms I mentioned a while back, in the unused basement of the bakery? We'd gotten it just about fixed up as a place to crash or hide out if necessary. Can't say we expected to need it /this/ soon, but there it is," Hanna shrugs, offering an apologetic smile, "Glad you've got a place to stay for now, though. I'm so out of the loop on where everyone's dispersed to, or how people are doing." She leans her elbows against her knees, watching Mel for a moment, "So how far along are you now? I'm afraid I lost track in all of this." "Don't worry about it. If you wanted a check up though, I'm sure they'll be glad to see her just to make sure everything's okay." Melinda scoops a little more soup into the bowl of her spoon before lifting to to her lips to sip and swallow quietly. She listen while she eats, her gaze alternating between a distracted unfocused expression and a more attentive study of the other woman's face. "Mmm. I am thirty-three weeks, almost thirty-four. They are hoping to keep me on bed rest for the next week or so until I'm comfortably in week thirty-five. Then I'm free range Mel again. They're guessing the kid will just sort of fall out at that point, but I'm pretty sure that the baby thrives on attention and will only make an appearance when afraid people have forgotten." Hanna nods and chuckles, "I'll probably drag the both of us down to the clinic next week, assuming nothing else goes wrong. Just to check that things are clearing up right like they should." She listens to Mel's explanation, occasionally studying Mel right back. A study of Hanna's face reveals evidence of the recent stress, the little creases deepended in the corners of her eyes and mouth, a stray gray hair hidden amongst the shining black; Hanna's eyes are settled into a worn hazel-brown, tinged with the slightest flecks of her usual warm gold. "Sounds thrilling - in the most safe and probably boring way possible. You know I'm around if you need anything - I will deliver pastries for freinds, and I don't think your house mates will object to cupcake runs," Hanna offers with a smile, "And the little one will arrive when they will. My understanding is they sort of have a keen sense of when the least convenient time will be, and then make their entrance." She snorts, glancing up at the slatted window, "At least we should be done with the snow soon enough, which is a small blessing." "I will be glad when my toes are not constantly freezing, though I'm rather sure I will be thrust into the time of uncomfortable sweating sooner than later." She sighs and lifts the soup bowl itself to her lips, deciding to start drinking it now that the level in the bowl is lower. "Good. You guys should take care of each other. And yes. we'd be absolutely delighted to have some food deliveries. I think the guys shop at the food pantry and different assorted dumpsters looking for food too old to sell, but still good. Something fresh will go over very well. But be prepared for hero worship." Hanna crinkles her nose a bit, "Dumpster diving? Tch," Hanna clicks her tongue and shakes her head in a decidedly motherly way, "I'll start coming by with some supplies. Fresh bread and the like, at the very least. And to check on you." She sighs softly, checking her phone, "I'm going to need to speak with Hive some time soon about the Commons. Jayna and I are doing fair, all things considered, but both our phones and computers went up in the apartment. Only point of contact is the bakery main line for now." She crinkles her nose and smacks her forehead, cursing under her breath in what must be Hawaiian, before sighing, "I need to contact that couple. The designs for their cake were in my living room. Gah." She rises, looking apologetic, "I should be going - need to make some calls and such. But I'll stop by tomorrow, ey? Fresh pastries for all, if they enjoy the ones I dropped off. You stay safe, alright? Give me a call if you need anything - Jayna or I'll answer the bakery line pretty much whenever." Hanna laughs, a warm, jolly sound that seems to brighten the room, "I could deal with hero worship, though I ain't no hero." "You'll be a culinary hero in my mind, mouth, and stomach, Hanna. Sometimes, that is the best and most accessible hero there is." Melinda grins and peels one hand away from her bowl to wave. "Good luck with the cake."