fandomtownies | J,GoB; Sunday Morning [07/07].

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J,GoB; Sunday Morning [07/07].

If anything a bit odd was going on that weekend, Boc certainly didn't realize it. One of the benefits, really, of rarely socializing was that most of those things just slipped right by his notice. As far as he was concerned, it was just another weekend and another Sunday, and so that meant going to the bakery yet again for his weekly treat.

He was feeling a little bit traditional, though, so he stuck with only his usual cinnamon roll, acquired with no issues at all, and then made his way happily to his usual table in the corner with all the eager anticipation to enjoy it and continue on with his very lovely Sunday as usual.

[[ open bakery is open and straightforward lol ]]

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Stark was avoiding the picnic, much like he'd avoided last night's festivities. But at least he'd emerged from his apartment this morning?

He was a little bleary-eyed having not slept much or well. Hopefully some baked goods would help. Sugar usually did.

"Are you your usual self?" he asked Boc a little warily when he spotted him on his way to the counter.

Then he looked at an array of strawberry baked goods in the case and sighed.

Boc's brow fell, and his head tilted, as he considered this question, and then he took a moment to pat his paws over his chest, his shoulders, even feeling the shape of his face a little, and then he nodded.

"Well, I'm not a tree," he pointed out, "so, unfortunately, yes. Very much so, it would appear..."

But he still found the question quite puzzling, and since conversations needed to be reciprocal, he then ventured, "Are you?"

"I am," Stark said. "Not everyone is. People are older than they ought to be and it's...I don't like it. I hope it's over with tomorrow. But I'm my usual self and I'm glad you are, too."

At least one thing was consistent!

He settled on a very chocolate cupcake for his morning treat, eventually, and headed to a table near Boc's.

"I suppose I might be older than I ought to be," Boc admitted, his head still tilted as he tried to wrap his mind around whatever it was Stark was saying. "I'm not sure how old I ought to be. I'm not even sure how old I am, much less how old I ought to be. Never really felt a thing like that mattered much, but we don't keep track of time back in the Land Between like you all tend to here. Feels a bit....fussy, really, even if I've started to enjoy marking the days of the week, at least."

"I'm not sure how old I am either," Stark told him as he took a seat. "I never kept track and no one kept track for me when I was small and I've only had a birthday for two years because Summer gave me one."

He grimaced as he said that and then took a large bite of his cupcake before continuing.

"I'm used to time the way it's measured here, now. How is your cinnamon roll this morning?"

"Oh, it's quite good," Boc assured him, with more bobbing of his head and another small piece making it into his mouth as if to prove it. "As always, really. I'd expect no less. And what have you decided on this week, if...if you don't mind me asking?"

Boc was never really good at social cues, but even he could tell that Stark seemed a bit out of sorts.

In a different way than usual.

"I don't mind you asking. Always happy to talk with you. It's a chocolate cupcake," Stark said, looking down at it. "This one has coffee in the frosting which makes the chocolate taste even more chocolatey. It's very good."

His heart just wasn't in it.

"Do you like chocolate, Boc? It's one of my favorite things. One we don't have where I'm from."

Lydia hadn't had a pastry from J,GoB in far too long, and so she was quite happy to purchase her favorite raspberry Danish and a cup of tea and settle in at her preferred seat by the window.

"Oh! Mr. Boc! Happy Sunday!" she exclaimed when she saw him there. Goodness, it really was just like old times.

When Boc looked up, he blinked a litle, because he was quite sure it was Miss Lydia there, but she looked just a bit different to him, didn't he? Was this one of those things Stark had been mentioning? About people being older than they ought to be? Or was it just that she'd changed her clothing quite a bit (something he would notice) rather than her face (something he might not, especially since, well, he preferred not to look at people and therefor couldn't tell you much about what a lot of the people he knew here actually did look like). But everything else did seem quite the same as it had been in other encounters, so he wasn't really sure if it mattered as much. Certainly not nearly as much as Stark had seemed to think it did.

"H...hullo," he said back, with a bit of awkwardness in his nod because of all those uncertain things. "Happy Sunday. Are you having a nice morning so far?"

"Oh, yes," Lydia said. "It's so nice to be back, revisiting the old 'stomping grounds,' as it were. Why, I was just thinking about how dear old Captain Flint and I would sometimes pretend we were both definitely going to church of a Sunday morn." She paused to dab delicately at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief in memory of dear Captain Flint.

"Oh," said Boc, head still tilted thoughtfully, "I think I may have met him here, once. He seemed very nice and easy to talk to, which, coming from me, is saying an awful lot."

It really was interesting, the disparity between people Boc found easy to talk to, compared to others.

"But....begging your pardon, miss, pretending? Don't you usually go to church on Sundays? I thought that's what you said, although I could be mistaken! More likely that, really, than anything..."

Well, Lydia was over here sniffling about her dear departed friend the murderous pirate captain, so she had no room to judge on that front.

Lydia put away her tears and laughed at that. "Certainly I said I was going to go to church, but whether or not I ever made it there I can't recall right now."

Well, that certainly didn't help any of the confusion Boc was feeling, but he was pretty sure, even with his lack of social acumen, that the laughing was an improvement from the sniffling, at least.

"But why," he asked, "would you say you were going if you weren't going, not really?"

"Because it was what was expected of me," Lydia explained. "Or what I thought was expected of me. I hadn't worked out that no one here cares all that much yet, and this was...a bit of a fresh start for me, I suppose. I wanted to present myself as a better person than I had managed to be previously, and I thought regular church attendance was part of that." Eighteen, she had come to realize, was still very young, even though at eighteen she had felt so grown up.

Arden wasn't sure whether this was a pregnancy craving or a nostalgic one, but she definitely had to make her way to J,GoB for a Sunday morning treat. Now she was standing in front of the counter, paralyzed by indecision, especially since she couldn't order one of everything and then bring stuff home to Midnight to be devoured.

Boc looked up to see Arden enter the bakery, head tilting a bit since the same thing that seemed to have occurred with Miss Lydalia seemed in effect here, too. Either way, he opened his mouth to greet her, saw she was a bit distracted now at the counter, and stuffed a piece of cinnamon roll in his mouth instead. Best not to bother her, especially when he'd have to call across the bakery, and that'd likely just be embarrassing for her and disruptive on his part.

In the end, Arden ended up getting a cinnamon roll of her own and a pecan braid, with an agreement that a server would bring her a cup of tea once she'd settled. And turning around, she spotted Boc and broke into a bright grin.

She also didn't call across the store, more out of concern for his embarrassment rather than being a disruption, but she did immediately head over to his table.

"Boc!" she said. "Oh, it's been so long! But here you are getting a pastry, same as always. May I join you?"

"Oh, erm, h-hullo, miss," Boc's head bobbed and he looked at his pastry, trying to remember if Arden had been in last week or not. "And of course I have, same as always, my Sunday pastry is probably my favorite part of my week, really. And, yes, of course, you may join me. You may join me whenever you'd like, it'd be both an honor and a delight, miss."

"Boc, you remain the sweetest person that I know," Arden said with a soft smile as she took a seat across from him. "It's so good to see you. At some point, Cal and I will have to have you come visit us, now that the war is over. Show you our home and how we're rebuilding."

"Good morning, Arden," Lydia called from her seat by the window. Arden would excuse her for not getting up to greet her in her current condition, she was sure. "Whatever it is you're thinking of, please know I support you in it wholeheartedly."

Absolutely! She'd insist Lydia sit back down if she'd even try.

Arden laughed. "I keep thinking of a pecan braid, but there is a chocolate eclair that keeps making me rethink that decision."

"Well, now you've got me wanting a chocolate eclair. Perhaps there is something in chocolate that is particularly good for babies," Lydia suggested.

"You know, you're probably right," Arden mused. "After all, cocoa butter is good for pretty much everything, so it would stand to reason that chocolate would be, too." She looked at the eclair again. "Thinking about it that way, I think we both should have some. For the babies' sakes, of course."

Obviously.

Lydia nodded, all wide-eyed innocence. "For the babies," she agreed. "We wouldn't want it said that we didn't do everything we could for their proper baby development or whatever it is."

"I mean, I bow to your clear experience in the matter," Arden said. "And your immaculate logic. Would you like to split one with me? Or should I get one for each of us?"

"If we split one would the babies get enough of the vital chocolate nutrients?" Lydia wondered.

That was Lydia. Always generously thinking of the children.

"Oh, probably not," Arden said. "Especially not with as delicate a stage in development as we both are."

She was definitely getting two. Because someone was finally THINKING OF THE CHILDREN.

"It's very important that we think of the children," Lydia, who a few days from now at Chez Khan would be willing to be convinced to sell her husband and children for ten more minutes in the whirlpool tub, insisted earnestly. "They need this. We're doing it for them." Such moving sacrifices they made.

Arden came over with the eclairs, setting one down in front of Lydia. "I would never want your children's development to suffer," she said earnestly. "I know I, personally, would feel better if you ate eclairs with me."

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J,GoB; Sunday Morning [07/07].

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