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Dite's Decadent Delights, Wednesday Afternoon

Miss Emma Grace Frost was Not Best Pleased.

The edible whipped cream canisters had broken, and it was EVERYWHERE. And every time she got the area cleaned up, another one exploded, quickly followed by a rain of the Sexy Sprinkles as they fell off the shelves.

Emma eventually gave up, and resigned herself to eating sprinkles out of a can. Maybe she'd go to T&C on her break to get some cherries.

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Beware the exploding whipped cream and the ninja sprinkles.

Peter had been-- not waffling, but undecided, about looking up Emma today for reasons that had nothing to do with her hurting his feelings, or anything ridiculous like that.

However, the sight inside the store made him pause right outside.

And then whip out his phone. And take a picture. And take great care not to feel like life was taking vengeance for his hypothetically hurt feelings all by itself until he was several streets away.

She's here, and has given up on reigning in the lickables.

Jack hadn't interrupted during Emma's confrontation of Peter Bishop the night before -- she seemed to be doing well enough without him -- but it did seem like the kind of thing he should ask her about when she wasn't exhausted from her shift.

So he walked in, mulling over how to word things, when -- "Emma, you aren't supposed to try things out while you're working."

"It was like this when I arrived today," she informed him primly, licking some of the whipped cream from her fingers. "Every time I clean it up, the new display explodes. So I'm done playing housemaid for the afternoon."

"I'm sure it'll dissolve or soak into the carpet or whatever whipped cream does overnight," Jack said, watching the motion of her tongue on her fingers. "... though it is a bit distracting if you do that."

Emma just smirked and did it again, this time a bit more slowly. "Really?"

Jack brought one hand over his face. "Yes! And I meant to talk to you about Peter Bishop, but somehow that doesn't seem to fit the situation."

"There's nothing to say about him," Emma replied dismissively. "You should enjoy some sprinkles instead."

"Somewhere between the slaps you said 'boyfriend' about him," Jack said, serenely. "I'd rather like to discuss that, worthless as he may be."

Seriously?

"Seriously?" she asked. "Are you joking? Did you miss the parts where I slapped him and threw him out of the club?"

"You've never called me that. And the one time I asked you about him, you threw a fit."

So, yes, seriously. And ill-advisedly.

"... why did you throw him out, exactly? I couldn't eavesdrop well enough."

"Because I did not want him there," Emma snapped. "It's my club - well, Eric's, - but I'm the hostess and bouncer. If he wants to drink at Devil's Nest, he'll have to do it on another night."

"I'm simply not interested in the bullshit he was trying to sell."

"Which brand of bullshit would that be?" Jack asked, as he kneeled and started to sweep some sprinkles into the palm of his hand. He was wary of Emma in this mood. He could usually stay on the right side of her volatility, but when he miscalculated, he tended to do so badly.

Still. It stung to hear her use that word about someone else, and she hadn't even told him about the relationship when it was happening. He couldn't explain why he cared so much; he just knew it hurt almost as much as a slap would.

"He's 'sorry' about how things went, blah blah blah, except it's been thirty years for him so it doesn't matter as much," she replied curtly.

But because she was a telepath - and Jack wasn't exactly shielding - she couldn't let it rest there. "And you don't get to start about me dating Peter, because we weren't together. You had your life in London, and I had mine, and you'd said you didn't want me pining. It just happened."

Emma was pretty sure there'd been some sex pollen in there at one point, but Jack didn't need to know that.

"Of course I said that, but there's no way you would have spent a year wasting away for want of me no matter what, is there?" Jack asked, a bit curt. Maybe it was Kate and that sweet, naive promise ring, but for once he wanted to know what it felt like to be enough for someone. Even if he didn't expect that would ever be Emma, all things considered.

"I still would have told you if there'd been anyone in London who was worth mentioning. There wasn't."

He ran a hand over his hair, a bit embarrassed by the show of passion. "He's an ass, by the way. Leaving like that."

Which was not an unbiased opinion.

"No, I would not have, because that wouldn't be fair to either of us," Emma retorted, her temper rising. "I was seventeen - I'm eighteen now - do you really think either of us could have managed a long-distance relationship last year?"

"You have Sebastien, you always have Sebastien, no matter what your relationship is." So really, Jack, don't start on not being enough for someone.

"But yes, he's an asshole, and I'm not planning on having anything else to do with him at this point, in case you're curious."

"I was," Jack said, sounding sullen. "So thank you. You finally show good judgement."

He rose, leaning back against a display. "I don't know if either of us will ever be able to make a long-distance relationship work. Even when we were 40, we didn't seem to have it figured out very well." They'd been together, yes, but it seemed to be a temporary thing.

There was a note of resignation in his voice, and he thoughtfully tapped a sticky finger against the shelf. "Sebastien ... does not make things easier, but -- in case it escaped your notice -- he ran off. Perhaps he needs to be taught a lesson about his pets coming when he calls."

Jack didn't entirely mean that, and even if he did, it would be a terrible reason to pursue things with Emma. He knew that; he was just still smarting.

"I 'finally' show good judgement?" Sorry, Jack, you just went to the wrong side of her temper. "I wasn't aware it was up to you to approve of who I do and do not choose to sleep with."

Jack had the good grace to flush. "That's not what I meant. I just think you can do better, all right? It's your life, I'm well aware of that."

"I can, and I deserve better than being the lesson for Sebastien, too" she snapped, before relenting a little. "I never called you my boyfriend, Jack, because you're more complicated than that." Which was a good thing.

<<It's not the right word for when my best friend is also my partner and lover.>>

There. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Oh. Oh. Well, that was one way to get Jack to quit whining.

"Complicated is the word for that, isn't it?" he said. "Don't glare at me. I won't tell. Not when you're all that to me, too."

He hadn't thought he needed a best friend who wasn't Sebastien. He'd been wrong.

Emma wasn't done glaring yet, thank you. Her hackles were still up over being questioned.

"Are you quite done with prying into my previous affairs, now, and my status in regards to Peter, or do you want a list?"

Jack snorted. He more or less knew Emma's list, and he also knew any list she made would be a third or less the length of his. Pursuing that line of questioning would not be a smart move.

"I think I know how to quit when I'm ahead, but thank you for the offer."

Emma just raised an eyebrow. He knew her list perfectly well, and it was less than a third of his, at least. It would very much not be smart to pursue that.

"Oh, lovely, so glad that I will no longer be subjected to an inquisition while I'm at work," she snapped. "This week can't possibly get any better."

First there was dealing with Peter last night, and now exploding whipped cream and Jack today.

"That's a challenge to the gods if I ever heard one," Jack noted dryly, and trotted toward the counter in search of rags and cleaning fluid. "Look. Let me at least help you clean."

He wasn't going to apologize; as far as he was concerned, he had nothing to apologize for.

"You clean," she said sourly, tossing a rag at him. "I've already done it twice."

When a new can of whipped cream decided to explode on him, she would consider it justice.

"As you wish," Jack said, and started scrubbing at the cream.

The bastard even had the gall to look relatively happy as he worked. Not that Emma was mad, of course. But Emma had been mad before, and she'd never said what she said before. It was enough to make the visit less than entirely painful from Jack's point of view.

Even when a fresh canister of cream burst as he picked it up.

Blame Elisabeth.

I'm here, except for when I go see Captain America this afternoon!

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Dite's Decadent Delights, Wednesday Afternoon

Mod your shopping!

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Talk to Emma

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OOC