Logs:Kitchen Nightmares

Kitchen Nightmares
Dramatis Personae DJ, Lily, Polaris	2020-11-21 "Did he like, have a goatee and call himself Captain United States?"
Location <GA> Across the Rift - Holland Farm - Hiawassee
One of many such family farms -- though fewer all the time -- in this little Appalachian town, the Hollands' 160-some rolling acres are divided about evenly between peach orchards and yearly rotations of crops. A burbling creek winds along one edge of the property, which extends up past the arable portions into steep, wooded mountainside. There are several acres of vegetable gardens nearest to the farmhouse, producing enough food to feed the family and often with excess to sell locally. The barn and pasture adjoining this are likewise mainly for the family's own use, with just a couple of dairy cows, a pair of horses, and plenty of chickens. The farmhouse itself is a big rambling white affair with a generous wraparound porch, full of rustic charm even in its no-nonsense practicality. The furniture is sturdy and plain and well-cared for, the walls adorned with handmade crafts, children's artwork, and some of Jackson Holland's more whimsical original paintings. The kitchen is vast and airy and superbly organized, always redolent of rich home cooking and of the herbs hanging in bundles to dry. In addition to the main house there are two smaller outbuildings, used in the past to house farm hands during the harvest, though these days they mainly host the steady stream of mutant refugees passing through the farm on their way to an uncertain hope of safety beyond the borders. The sun is only barely up, but the kitchen is already full of noise -- no luck for night owls, on the farm. DJ seems to have more or less recovered from last night's ultramarathon; at least he's kept his breakfast down and is now tearing out the splintered wood remains that used to be the cabinets. He's working a good deal slower than he might usually, but he is at least steady on his feet. Currently dressed in jeans, sturdy brown boots, a grey and black flannel, he's just taking a break to down half a tumbler of cranberry juice in one long gulp. Polaris is just slipping back inside through the side door, a breath of early morning chill following her in despite her haste in shutting it out. She's in a hip-length lavender canvas jacket lined with flannel, a hunter green A-line skirt and heavy black boots underneath, her hair braided and twisted up at the back of her head and a soft blue, purple, and pink knit scarf around her neck. She goes to her husband's side, casually looping her frigid hands around his neck. "Well, everyone is fed. For now, at least--the big guy eats a ton." Her wide hazel eyes survey the wreck that said big guy had made. "I forgot how much of a pain in the butt it was, not having a fully functional kitchen." “Can’t believe we’re feeding them,” Lily grumbles, the heavy footfalls of her own boots on the stairs announcing her arrival before she can actually see her brother and sister-in-law. Her hair is pulled into a side braid on her right side, and she’s back in her overalls, today paired with a beige crew neck shirt and and flannel lined barn coat. “How long until we can be rid of them?” A beat. “Or at least of Stark.” The glass of juice slips a fraction of an inch downward in DJ's hand, dropped and then caught again quick enough to be hardly noticeable at the touch of icy hands on his neck. He huffs quiet but doesn't pull away, rolling his head to the side to moosh his cheek down against one of Polaris's hands, too. "Thou shalt receive him into thy house and feed him," he replies, light and easy; his eyes are skimming the ruin of his kitchen as he follows this up, amused, with: "-- and he shall wreck thee and thy house. I do not think Alma predicted Hulk." He takes another sip of his juice, smaller this time. "They'll probably need an escort. I don't know if I can think through what kind of dangers this world has for -- mirror-universe clones?" "I can't imagine he'll leave without the rest of them," Polaris says with a kind of blithe resignation, "and that won't happen until Hulk is...deHulkified." She turns her hands over to warm their other sides against DJ's skin. "It's tempting to think they'll be safe just passing for their doppelgangers, but looking like what's left of the frakking Avengers is probably the exact thing that will get them into trouble. And I don't trust them not to give us up for leverage if push came to shove." She heaves a sigh, pulling her hands away reluctantly. "It's going to have to be us, isn't it?" “I stand by what I did.” Lily’s hands are stuffed into the pockets of her barn coat as she paces the kitchen, kicking lightly at an errant table leg, now free from any table. “It’s what got them in trouble with us, isn’t it? We let them out unsupervised, either our Stark is going to have them killed on suspicion of shapeshifting or one of our people is going to try to kill them anyway.” Paces back to DJ and Polaris. “The fewer of us that get involved with them, the safer all of us will be.” Her face darkens. “Then when they get out of here, they can go start a genocide in another dimension. Woohoo." "Nobody's coming for them. Nobody knows where they went, and the only remaining member of their team thinks they may have died already." DJ's voice is mild, his expression placid. "If you really think they're going to repeat this there, we should kill them now, not send them back. But their world isn't this one. I'm going to believe it doesn't have to be." His glass vanishes from his hand, reappearing on the planks that are currently passing for his work table. He leans back against a caved-in ruin of a countertop. Pauses, glances to Polaris before he adds: "Steve was there." "Hey, and I stand by not getting smashed." Polaris slings an arm around Lily's shoulders, squeezing tight. "They've been gracious guests since the smashing is about all I can say for them--that and Hulk is weirdly great with animals. It certainly doesn't guaratee they won't go back and...what, get inspired?" She's finally warmed up enough to unzip her jacket and expose the plush amethyst sweater underneath. "I'm still not excited to murder them over the terrible things they might do..." If she was going to elaborate on this, she's quickly sidetracked, blinking rapidly at DJ. "Steve Rogers? That must have been weird, I mean--heck, maybe all this wouldn't have..." She shakes her head. "Did he like, have a goatee and call himself Captain United States?" “Hulk is probably my favourite, if I had to pick.” The corner of Lily’s mouth twitches up into the beginnings of a smile, leans her head against Polaris’ shoulder for one soft moment. The smile fades into surprise, brows furrowing. “What?” It takes her a moment to process. She presses her lips together into a tight line. “Well. Anyone else alive over there we should know about?” "I'm --" DJ hesitates. Shoulders tightening, eyes darting to Lily and then to the ground. He sucks his cheeks inward to gnaw at their insides. "Not sure it matters, they're -- working to close that door. Do kind of hope they get inspired, though. In the other direction. See what might happen, work to -- avoid it." His shrug is small. "Can hope, anyway. And no, he was just -- just Steve. Took me by surprise, I didn't expect -- uh. I got the impression --" His eyes open just a little wider, and he rubs at the back of his neck, cheeks flushing abruptly deep crimson. "He kissed me." Polaris's face twitches briefly into a gleeful smile before moderating into what she perhaps thinks is an expression of intense but respectful interest. "Wow, that's pretty, um..." Her solemnity only lasts a fraction of a second. "Hawt. I'm glad you went for it! I mean--" Her tone and expression both soften. "--if it wasn't too traumatic. Obviously." The furrow of her brows is thoughtful, here. "There are just so many reasons to not expect that--gosh, I am too curious!" Lily’s eyes follow DJ’s gaze, catches the tightening body language and frowns. There is a blur under Polaris’ arm - Lily reappears on the other side of her brother, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. There is concern in her expression, but before she can ask anything, Polaris makes her declaration. “Good lord, girl!” Lily laughs despite herself. “Sounds like we gotta send both of you through. So Polaris can watch.” Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively. “Honeymoon part two - parallel dimension edition.” Another squeeze. "Kidding." DJ's eyes scrunch tight, hand curling into a loose fist to fall in a languid slow-motion thump onto Lily's shoulder as his head bops against hers with a small groan. "I -- do not think their dystopia is my number one honeymoon destination." He blinks away, returning to his work with a crooked -- very brief -- smile. "Aside from the heart attack though? I did -- not -- entirely hate it." His blush is growing deeper, his voice quieter as the smile fades. "Kinda neither here nor there, though. Steve's dead, and we just gotta get those people home. And personally, the only other world I ever want to see again is a kingdom of glory."