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Wanda has partially disconnected.
Paella. The reason for all good things begins and ends at a proper meal, when you come from a country noted for being the crossroads of Europe and often barred behind curtains. Iron curtains, Roman curtains, Gothic curtains. It makes no difference who tries to occupy the place, food is a sacred ritual.
Wanda has a halfway decent hand at cooking. Better than Pietro, at any rate. She carries a covered bowl tucked between her elbow and her side, the fragrant mix of paprika and saffron arousing a brilliant olfactory palate to go along with everything else thrown into the dish. Proper paella probably includes things like chorizo and chicken, or mussels, prawns, and the like. On the other hand, the Scarlet Witch's dietary peccadillos match that of her mate's, in that her ability to process meat is precisely nil. Unless that meat derives from extremely exotic sources. All said and done, though, a happy child and partner mean making it right, or as right as she could convince a Valencian crone to make it. And passports aren't necessary to march up to the door in Greenwich Village.
"I got it." Teddy tells Billy. He's hanging out on the roof since it's getting nice and the sunset is always pretty. He'd been listening for the door though since they were expecting Wanda so he trots down the stairs toward the door. Though in just a pair of shorts originally, he's got on a tee shirt by the time he opens the door. "Hey, come on in."
|ROLL| Wanda +rolls 1d8 for: 1
Since they are having company, Billy is standing in the middle of the living room and cleaning. Telekinetically. Because this is practice: dishes and such float in from the kitchen to the dining area table, and forks and knives come in at once. He can only really keep a couple things going at once, and his precision is generally good, but practice never hurts. So when Teddy goes to answer, he flashes a grin at … are they boyfriends yet? That guy I'm dating. He's in a simple pair of jeans and a very fitting pale blue t-shirt, and his hair is neat. Glancing over his shoulder he flashes a grin at Wanda, "Hi."
The petite glimmer at Wanda's throat indicates a chain of some kind concealed under her hair and the descending black neckline of her shirt. Her uniform changes comparatively little and certainly looks like nothing favored by the similarly aged women of this era. They don't wear leather pants or leggings, corsets, and jackets as iconic in their way as the red cloak who might just be her second best friend after Pietro. Or first. It depends on Pietro's disposition. "Thank you," she replies, inclining her head. The merest application of magic sends dust shaking from her boots on the way out, assuring she tracks nothing in at all. "Hello and good evening." She holds up the bowl. "This is edible!"
"You know what happened to the apprentice." Teddy comments to Billy then steps back, holding the door open for Wanda. "Smells good!" he says, sniffing the air then closing the door behind her once she walks in. "Where'd you get it?" Since she doesn't open magical portals to Spain for dinner. That he knows of.
"I do? What? The apprentice?" Billy gives a confused look at Teddy, as the last of the silverwear flies over and settles on the ground. He then heads over to Wanda, reaching out to take the bowl, and then hover it over towards the table so he can give her a proper hug in greeting, "It DOES smell good. What is it?" He loves paella, but doesn't yet really know how to identify it by scent. Especially since it varies so. "How's Pietro? Stephen?" he asks as he does so, "You're lucky, as a parent you get to see the rare event of Teddy with a shirt on at home." Which his tone says: its only because I love ya, mom, do I find that okay. But he grins.
Like mother, like son? "I had a teacher. Very good to tell me how to do this," says Wanda, nodding to the bowl handed off. The warmth still radiates through the heavy plastic and practically begs to crawl out and assault everyone who could possibly be hungry now until Sunday. Marking a small smile to Teddy means something; this is not a woman for whom the gesture is at all natural, much of the time. The echo of cat's paws or hen's teeth are more common. Halting for Billy to sweep in, she opens her arms to him for a hug in return. That much is comfortable. "Pietro is distracted. He still has troubles to settle since he came back from space. I need very much to take him to the Moon." She's probably serious, that. "Stephen is well. It is my task to see it is so."
"The sorcerer's apprentice." Teddy answers as he heads into the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he pulls out three bowls and grabs three forks from a drawer. "Who wants what to drink? There's water, beer and Coke." On his way to the table, he just pauses and looks at Wanda. "Take him to the moon? You can do that? Can you do that?" he asks Billy. "I've never been to the moon." Which is pretty much obvious since no one has. At least officially.
Of all the pop culture for Billy to not know, sorcerer's apprentice is one. He does not do cartoons. Unless they're about space. "Coke." he says quickly, then blinks at Wanda after the hug that he gives with warmth and squeezing, "Pietro went to *space*? You're going to take him to the *moon*? That sounds dangerous. He'd reach escape velocity without even having to try hard— It's just one and a half miles per second." Yes, he pulled that factoid out of thin air. But, his eyes are wide, bbefore Teddy's question brings him up short. He just stops in his tracks. He was heading to the table because food: but moon? "I don't see why not, I wormholed to that space ship to rescue you. But I don't think I should try doing the moon. There's no air there. There's air here. Our air would go there through the hole— fast. That could be bad." He's at least thinking through consequences.
How the hell does Billy not know Fantasia? There shall be buckets and animated objects for him to worry about. Hell, Wanda probably even knows that. "Coke, I believe this is good?" Yes, she doesn't actually drink much but water, tea, and infusions of honey and wild, crazy alcoholic beverages. Her fingers tap against her hip and she brushes back her coat. "Yes, he went to space. Sometimes his dreams…" Trailing off, her gaze travels over Billy's face, more like her own than Tommy's, but there are common features all the same if one knows how to look. The cheekbones, for one. "Do you ever feel Tommy? It can be like this for us. But sometimes I dream, too, of him standing upon the Moon. Why this is, I do not entirely know."
Her eyes start to bleed an impressively violet shade, the smile upon her lips.
"If you figure it out, I'd love to go." Teddy says simply. This is probably the understatement of the millenium. Setting down the bowls and forks, he returns for 2 bottles of Coke and a beer. "I wonder if I could change into something that would let me live in space." he muses. "I can hold my breath for a bit. And the cold shouldn't be a problem for a little while." Though that's speculation, of course.
"Space isn't cold." Billy says absently, "Well, space *is* cold but cold isn't the problem, heat is. Heat is lost from your body by it moving onto air— with no air, your heat is stuck there. It doesn't dissipate as your body expects it should. Of course, your body regulates its heat to a certain extent— the problem with space statio…" Billy pauses: his nerd was active. He flushes a bit. Ahem. He goes to the table, and politely like pulls a chair out for Wanda, musing, "I can't say I've ever felt him like that. But we have a connection, its just sorta weird. But its strongest when I'm astral projecting. It feels like we're two sides of the same coin and I sometimes see weird things about him." He then nods over to Teddy, "I'll think about it. I'm sure anything's possible, if I can think of how to do it safely."
Wanda is happy to claim one of those forks, and she says, "Thank you," as a matter of meaning and not simply reflex. Manners are important, especially so. While the two of them discuss space and the perils of being out there in the vast emptiness, she turns to look over her shoulder.
It's not difficult to locate the Witch, given the soul-bond that reaches beyond realities. Homing beacon, locked and loaded…Gate spun upon a rather homey scene over paella. Grinning from ear to ear, Strange immediately makes his way over to Wanda and lays one on her. It's a spine-tingling, toe-curling, viscerally-innervating kiss that is 'totes disgusting, Pops, ohmygod, MY EYES'. Billy is assuredly scarred for life. Who knows about Teddy.
With a final pressuring lean in, he's sated that itch. He releases his gentle hold about Wanda's cheeks, gives her a fond if not rather smouldering look, and glances over at Billy.
"You'll understand one day," is all the kid gets. With that and a wink to the Witch, the man Gates out again. Back to paella, folks.
Teddy deposits the bottles on the table, twisting them off with his hand (and a minor bit of shapeshifting) before sliding them in front of everyone and sitting down. That Wanda might prefer a glass doesn't really occur to him. Then Strange is there and the two old people kiss but damn it, seems everyone can open portals in mid air but him. He's almost jealous.
Billy has eyes only for paella and Teddy's arms— and what? GAH. GAH. GAH. Billy's level of GAH reaches Defcon 1 and goes GAHucular. "Oh my gosh I know you aren't like really old so you might still have a sex drive and I recognize, intellectually, you still need to get your freak on since I would really like to to be born someday, but ugh I need to wash my eyes out with alcohol and soap and probably some bit of magic." Billy scrubs at his eyes and rubs and rubs and rubs.
The swoon anticipated on nearly any other soul? Not there for Wanda. Proof she is, in fact, made of sterner stuff possibly related to antimatter and emotionless stone statues. Her mouth softens slightly into what could be a bruised smirk, and no more. "He likes to remind you."
Teddy glances over at Billy and rolls his eyes a bit. "Oh come on. It was just a kiss. Not like you caught them naked in bed." he points out, no doubt contributing to Billy's torment by injecting that image. And it's not his mom so really, get a grip.
It's his mom more then his other mom is: it's just weird. Billy squints at Wanda and shakes his head, and does the nearly unthinkable: he flips Teddy off. Hey, its not the same as cussing. "That, thank the Archangels, I would never do. I do not so much as step foot in the Sanctum without knocking. Besides, the wards would warn him. Speaking of, we need wards." He eyes Wanda again, "Remind me of what?"
"I think it wise not to. I am likely to answer them as much as he is." The amusement following the question is simple. "He likes to see how you act when he is here. To show you emotion." Because Wanda hasn't enough to speak of, honestly.
Teddy shovels some paella into his bowl, looking from Billy to Wanda. "Why does he need to do that?" he asks, puzzled. "Does he not show enough around Billy normally?" Then again, maybe this is just something he should stay out of. "This is good." he asserts then realizes he hasn't actually tasted it yet and is quick to do so. Mmmmm, good.
Still Billy for one doesn't seem to understand, his brow furrowing, and he piles some food over into his bowl before tasting and looking delighted, "I know he loves you? Its obvious as the sun. He doesn't have to prove it. Besides that's between you two, really." He asides to Teddy, "Our relationship is weird. We're still figuring it out." Not that his relationship with either of the other two at the table wouldn't fit under that heading.
Wanda goes home.
Wanda has left.