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Log Title: Indiana Walker and the Temple of Broom

Log setting: Chez Walker, directly after the log Promise to Kick.

Log Cast:
Walker
Glass
Jean-Batiste
Jason
Alisynde

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Walker wanders around the cabinet and further into the kitchen, waiting and waiting. Finally he speaks into the receiver, voice low. "Hey..! ... just about ... just get... somethin'?" He strains to reach the refrigerator without pulling the phone out of the wall.

You hear a knock on the door. (from Moss Street -- Bayou St. John)

A woman shouts from somewhere nearby, "Um..anyone there?"

Walker can't quite seem to reach the handle, stretch though he may. "Like I ..." He looks back toward the hall at the knock. "Hey.. somebody get that please?" he calls to the house at large before returning to his call. "... up ...?"

[Glass gets the door, letting Ali in.]

Alisynde opens the front door and steps inside.

Alisynde looks a bit...tentative...as she enters. "Um. Hi."

Glass murmurs, "Hi, Ali." He goes back to sit on the bottom step of the stairs, out of the way of Walker in the kitchen, and the three others in their serious conversation.

Jason looks just about ready to snuggle up with his friends when... all this knocking and calling out happens. /Wait/, wasn't he and Trace and Bat alone in this house?? He slips his arm around Trace, tucking his hand between Batiste and Trace's sides, and lifts his head, peering through loose hair to the door where Glass is letting Alisynde in. And Walker is in the kitchen. /Hello/ reality! Blinkblink. And a snuggle closer to his friends.

Trace blinks owlishly as Glass crosses the room -- how long had he been there? And then he's letting Ali in. Did she knock? Looking confused and distracted, he gives a sheepish wave to the both of them. Whatever he's talking about, huddled on the couch with his two friends, it must have been pretty intense, because he didn't notice any of you until all the obvious movement around him started.

Walker eyes the refrigerator like a foe, assessing the situation with the phone receiver cradled on his shoulder. He tries the stretch-and-reach method again, failing once more to make it to the handle. "Yeah..." he murmurs into the phone. "... got here ... ya restin' ... wouldn't be up ..."

Jean-Batiste leans in close to Trace and Jason, making a sort of snuggly Trace Sammich. He smiles a little, and murmurs something to the two of them, giving Trace a kiss on the forehead and then - with a playful slash of a grin - a noisy, overdone kiss on the cheek.

Alisynde smiles at...well, everyone. But she doesn't want to interrupt the conversation, so she goes to sit next to Glass. Shove over, you.

Glass shoves over.

Jean-Batiste pages you and Jason: Jean-Batiste murmurs softly as he looks into Trace's eyes, "I'm proud of you, for even wanting to try. We'll get you through this, don't worry, okay?" He smilies a little at the both of you, then kisses Trace on the forehead, then noisily on the cheek.

Walker tries a different tactic. Propping his elbow on the counter he stretches a foot toward the refrigerator door in a weebling attempt to hook the toe of his boot in the handle. Good thing no one's in the kitchen to witness the drunken stork display. He rambles into the telephone, voice dropping to a lower tone - too low to be heard in the other room.

Glass leans back on the stairs and sighs.

Alisynde murmurs to Glass. "Walker..?"

Alisynde gives Glass the, "Where is he?" look.

Glass murmurs, "In the kitchen."

Trace laughs and rubs at his wet cheek dramatically before snuggling in close to the two boys on the couch, closing his eyes. "Mmm... thank you. Thank you both *so* much..." comes his muffled, heartfelt murmur. "Love you both..." He looks very content in the sammich. "What I'll do is... I mean, so you don't think I'm coppin' out with this mural thing, I - I won't use it t'get really gone ever. I know how to take enough just t'get me straight. I'll kinda start taperin' down... y'know?"

Walker's attempt to pry the fridge open with his foot succeeds only in jostling the appliance, knocking a pitcher from the top to crash loudly on the floor. His murmuring into the phone cuts off briefly before resuming again. In a moment of clarity he abandons his attempts to long-distance raid the refrigerator before he does any more damage to the room.

Alisynde eyes the kitchen suspiciously. "What's he doing in there? Sacrificing ceramic plates to the great god Tupperware?"

Jason giggles softly and nuzzles into Trace's braids, getting all nice and comfy. He has no intention of giving up the sammich anytime soon. Things are Good again. But he also doesn't look foolishly hopeful. Just content. Trying is all that matters right now.

Jean-Batiste hugs Jason and Trace close, shamelessly indulging in a bit of communal braid-nuzzling before he starts to untangle himself from the multicoloured puppy-pile. "I want a chocolate-covered banana," he announces. "D'you guys? Obscene fun for the whole family..." He laughs as he steps back, rubbing the corner of one eye a little. He's still looking a little haggard, but the irritation has faded.

Walker murmurs his goodbyes into the phone and hangs it up, turning to survey the glittering spread of broken glass decorating the tile. Joy. Putting his desire for a drink on hold he wanders out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the storage closet for a broom. "Hey, Ali," he pipes as he sees her on the stairs. "S'up?" Tugging the door open reveals a haphazard obstacle course of cleaning supplies and other odds and ends stacked precariously atop one another. Like Indiana Jones he braves the dark and treacherous depths in search of the supplies he needs.

Alisynde says, "Ah, y'know. The usual. Figured I'd come by..." And see how Jean's doing. "Apartment's finished."

Jason oohs! from amongst blue braids and reaches out a hand, fingers wriggling, to Bat. The universal baby-sign for 'gimme.' "One of the big ones!"

Trace gives a little whimper as Batiste leaves the sammich, but his words register, and that fixes everything. "Oh, yeah! Yeah, I want one..." He peeks over at Jason. "One've the bigger one's 'n Jason's!" he counters playfully, reaching to sorta tickle -- not a full out tickle-attack, he's feeling too cuddly.

Jean-Batiste could make -so- many comments connecting Jason and big bananas, but at least three-quarters of all of them would involve him turning a bright, blazing pink. And so he only murmurs teasingly, "Mmm-hmm..." and shares one of those wink-wink-nudge-nudge grins with Trace before heading out of the living room. He hangs onto the doorframe and drapes himself around to peer at Glass and Ali with a solemn smile. "Hey..." he greets, looking somewhat sheepish. To Ali he says, "Listen, I'm sorry if I insulted your friend, I really wasn't feeling good... Do either of you want a chocolate-covered banana? They're really good..."

Alisynde suddenly claps her hand to her forehead. "O god. I'm having visions of Giant Mutant Walking Chocolate Covered Bananas.."

Jason eeps and swats at not-quite-tickling hands and returns the favor. Yes, cuddly, that's exactly what he's feeling right now. He ducks his head and butts Trace's shoulder, giggling softly, murmuring, "Yer banana can't even /compete/ with mine!"

Glass looks at Batiste. He smiles joylessly and nods. "Okay. A banana."

Insert triumphant Indy Jones music here; Walker has returned from the perils of the closet with broom -and- dustpan. He kicks the door shut, pausing near the stairs to beam at Ali. "Really? Too cool! You'll have ta give me th' grand tour," he grins. He gives his head a shake to free his face of rogue strands of hair, the smile refreshing once that task is completed. "M'headin' ovva ta Ben's here afta I clean up m'mess in th' kitchen," he raises his voice for all to hear the next: "If anybody wants ta come with." Then he traipses back up the hall to the kitchen where the disaster zone awaits.

Alisynde smiles warmly to Jean. "It's okay. He didn't seem insulted. I..." She breaks off suddenly, and gets a wicked, wicked gleam in her eye. "Are you offering me your banana, Jean?"

Jason calls from the other room, "He is most definitely /not/ offerin' his banana!" And then collapses against Trace in giggles.

Jean-Batiste watches Glass for a few seconds, smiling hopefully at him as if his smile could cheer Glass up. He watches Walker for a few seconds, nodding as he says, "Yeah, he said that we could all come over and trash his place...if everyone wants?" He raises his voice on that last bit, so Trace and Jason can hear. And then...ohmygod. Ali's banana comment. He sputters something that's probably a no, and hurries away into the kitchen before he can blush fatally.

Good thing the boys can't see Ali, cause she's snickering, the wench. And likely imagining Jean in a lovely shade of magenta. She recovers after a moment, though. "Goin' t' Ben's place would be great, but I can't really stay..."

Glass murmurs, "Don't know if I like Ben."

Walker surveys the shattered mess. That was a nice pitcher too; it served its purpose well and often. Dropping to a crouch he begins to shove the broken glass into the dustpan, gripping the broom low on the handle for better maneuvering. Broken glass is a tricky thing to clean up - you really need to be close to see all of it. Consumed with his task in the kitchen, he misses Glass' soft remark.

"Ali, if you *really* wanna banana..." Trace giggles, then hides in another Jason-nuzzle, geez, blush. Where'd *that* come from? Probably that lace bra from way back when. Muffledly, he comments, "I don't care, goin' to Ben's is cool..." He lifts his head, blinking at Glass. "Why? Ben's, like, so nice... you can talk to him 'bout all kindsa stuff, and.." He just shakes his head a little. "How kin' anyone not like Ben?"

Glass murmurs, "Don't know him. I never talked to him."

Glass looks at Trace, murmurs, "You're gonna quit, huh?"

Alisynde hops off her position on the stairs simply so she can go and waggle her eyebrows at Trace.

"I..." Trace blinks again at Glass, and then purses his lips a little and bobs his head once. Then he catches Ali and just *dies* with giggles, hiding again.

Glass looks down, "That's good."

"Need some help?" Batiste murmurs as he carefully picks his way closer to Walker's side, watching for the telltale sparkle of glass slivers. "Did you cut yourself?" He's distracted by about fourteen things at once, not realizing he's not leaving time for Walker to answer. "D'you want a chocolate banana?"

Alisynde returns to her seat, her mission of the moment accomplished.

Jason giggles into Trace's braids, peering through them at Alisynde as she pops around the corner. And then he thinks about the whole Ben thing. And adds to Trace's expansive description of Ben's strengths, "An' Ben's got lotsa good wine."

Glass murmurs, "Don't like wine much."

Jason hmphs. "Don't like much much," he murmurs... then grabs a braid in his teeth and tugs.

Walker blinks up at Bat, holding the broom still so as not to accidentally thwap him with the wildly careening handle of the broom. "Uhh..? No?" That seems to cover it. Oh-so-carefully he returns to sweeping, trying to alternately monitor the glass below and the swaying handle above.

Glass looks at Jason. He nods slowly. "Yeah. I guess not." He stands up.

Trace's giggle dies right there, his limbs going awkward and somewhat stiff. He flushes and it's only after a minute or two, once the conversation is headed elsewhere, that he sits up a little. "That what we're doing there?" he asks softly of Jason, casual.

Jean-Batiste nods a little to Walker and steps around him to stand in front of the freezer. He opens it up, rummaging around the fish sticks, ice cubes, frozen burritos and other such frozen delights to find - aha! - the frozen, chocolate-covered bananas. He draws out five of them, holding them precariously in his hands as he bumps the freezer closed with his shoulder and starts back towards Glass and Ali.

Jason blinks down at Trace and rrfs?, braid still in his mouth. And then he spits it out and grins (though eyebrows still raised). "Actually, I thought we were all gonna molest Ben with chocolate-covered 'nanas, but I could be wrong." He winks playfully, then pokes the other in the side.

Alisynde holds out her hand for a chocolate covered frozen bana-ey treat. She oohs, suddenly. "Now that'd be an interesting sight to see..."

Walker squints about the floor for anymore vagabond sparkles. Satisfied that he's corraled them all he rises from his crouch to dispose of the remains of the pitcher. The return trip to the supply closet isn't near as brave as the first: he simply - and quickly - shoves the broom and dustpan in, shoving the door closed with utmost haste. Fortunate; something clatters behind the door, followed by a sound akin to a miniature landslide. He remains pressed with his back to the door till the sounds settle then heads toward the door.

Trace finds his laugh again, and speaks right up. "Not *my* chocolate banana. Mine's so getting eaten... You kin' molest with yers, kay?" He glances over towards the kitchen. "HEY, we seriously need bananas out here, Batiste!" he hollers with restored cheer.

Jean-Batiste stays near Ali and Glass, calling towards the living room, "You guys come get 'em, I'm tired of walking around all over the place!" He juggles the bananas around carefully (you know, they pay well for banana jugglers on the black market) then hands one of them to Glass with another worried, hopeful smile aimed at him.

Glass takes the banana and looks at it, then at Batiste. He shrugs and murmurs, "Sorry." Alisynde takes the banana, and smiles to Jean. "Thank you."

Jason murmurs to Trace, "He walks to the kitchen and gets tired out... We should take him out on a leash more often.."

"How d'ya like that?" Trace asks of Jason with overloud mock-offense, lugging himself up and putting a hand to his hip, holding out the other to help his friend up. "Serves *everybody* but us. I'm seriously slighted here." Then he giggles and, once he's sure Jason's helped up, he turns and dashes right for the kitchen, calling mirthfully, "I was kidding, don't eat miiinnne!"

Alisynde is in a position where she can't quite hear that murmur of Jason's clearly. Otherwise she'd say something jokingly. Something like, "It's all the blushing, you know. Tires a man out." But she can't hear the line. So she doesn't.

Walker pauses at the front door, doing a quick check of his person to insure he has everything he needs and nothing he doesn't. "Anybody what wants..." He trails off as he looks up from his inspection, looking at Glass with one slightly narrowed eye. Clearing his expression expertly, he starts fresh with a guileless smile launched Glass' direction. "Hey, Glass. C'mere for a sec."

Glass looks at Walker. "Um. Okay." He heads over to the fellow, licking the banana.

Jason gets helped up and races after Trace, giggling as he goes. "If you eat mine, ya gotta kiss it first!" he calls, grinning a big, huge, wicked grin. These bananas are fun, even /before/ you get them.

Alisynde waits 'til Trace comes tearing around the corner...then she pops the end of the banana in her mouth and waggles her eyebrows at him. Twice, even.

Walker sucks his lower lip between his teeth, eyes moving to the banana Glass holds. Hoo.. what was he doing? Oh, yeah. He smiles again - a little more broadly than before - and leans close to whisper something to Glass.

"Oh, well..." Trace starts, and flubs it up! He cannot think of *one* suave thing to say to this fine lady eating his banana.. "Well, you can just..." Dammit! "Uh." He finally just giggles and makes a grab for it.

Glass sucks on the end of the banana for a moment, then whispers back to Walker.

Jean-Batiste watches Walker and Glass, still holding three bananas all to himself. (Isn't there a movie about that on VHS?) Or two, if Ali grabbed Trace's banana while Batiste was busy watching Walker and Glass. How flustering. "Huh? Oh, yeah, here..." he murmurs belatedly, grinning at Jason as he gives the redhead's banana a kiss before handing it over.

Walker's attention can't help but find that banana again. Boy is he glad he suggested those things; fun for all and one helluva fine sight to look on. Focus, Walker! He clears his throat and forces his attention away to.. Glass' hair works fine for now as he whispers back.

Glass murmurs, "Okay," to Walker.

Alisynde is actually just using her banana to torture Trace with. Apparently she hadn't thought of stealing his, but...she offers it out, with a guileless smile. "I'm sorry. Was this yours? Hope you didn't mind me...warming it up for you." She winks, hands Trace the banana and goes to get another from Jean.

Walker smiles at Glass and reaches to ruffle his hair. "Cool." He keeps his attention away from the frozen treat in Glass' hand and calls out: "Anybody what wants ta go, let's get." He tugs the door open, hovering on the threshhold.

Jean-Batiste is, like, -trying- to find an innocent way to suck on a banana, and finding it completely, utterly, and wholly -impossible-. And then what does he do, to make himself blush? He calls, "Coming!" to Walker's announcement. Pink down to his toes, most likely.

Glass licks the banana rather intently, mms.

Jason just... blinkblinks at Alisynde as she tortures Trace, absently taking his from Bat. He sets his jaw a little, then promptly spins around so he faces the other way. He's so subtle. He starts to respond to Walker's last call, but... He looks up at Bat, blinks... and just about falls over laughing, just barely saving himself by clinging onto the taller boy's sleeve.

Alisynde calls back, "As long as you clean it up afterwards!" Whups. Did she just steal Walker's line? Peripheral. Walker forgot to secure his peripheral vision. There's Glass'

Trace blinks... oh, that wasn't his? Well, it is now. He blinks after her, murmuring, "No, uh... I don't mind, no." A blush. Geez, girls. They sure do drop your IQ, or at least your ability to come back with some semblence of wits. Oh! Oh, we're leaving... Still pink (it's not a blush, it's something going 'round, see? Bat caught it too.) he trots after the group, popping the end of the banana into his mouth.

Jason chokes back on his laughter and presses up against Batiste, murmuring something rather intently as he watches Walker out of the corner of his eye.

Peripheral. Walker forgot to secure his peripheral vision. There's Glass' banana acting like a magnet for his eyes, Must. Not. Look. A challenge to say the least. "Yah... uh. Leavin' now." He exhales slowly and turns to hop quickly out on the porch. Where's a cool breeze when you need one?

Glass follows Walker out, still sucking on the banana.

Jean-Batiste stumbles after Jason, being led by the hand, looking...well, twitterpated, if any of you have seen 'Bambi'. Or if not twitterpated, he looks like a deer in headlights, just to stick with that motif.

Walker tugs his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one, concentrating on eyeing his car. Let's see... Jason, Bat, Doug, Trace... himself... that makes banana. Err. Five. Someone's taking a lap seat. He hops down off the porch and crosses the yard, fumbling his keys out of his pocket.

Trace skips on over towards the car, his banana halved at this point, cheeks bulged and looking quite pleased about. Once beside the beetle, he turns and leans against the side, waiting for the other two.

Glass chews on a chunk of frozen banana, standing there. Probably trying to hold out for shotgun.

Jean-Batiste makes a mental note to commit himself to a monestary before he ever makes chocolate-covered bananas again. What the hell was he -thinking-? Oi. And Ben will doubtless ask someone to share their banana with him when they all get there...then again, maybe he'll make these for the next party. Chocolate covered bananas on X. Double oi. "We'll get in the back..." he announces, giving Glass a stunned, chocolatey smile as he climbs in the back and sets Jason in his lap.

Jason drags Bat to the car, still sucking lightly on the banana. One does not /bite/ these things! A giggle as he tugs Bat so that the other will get in first. He wants to get the lap seat.

Apartment 313 - Pontalbo (St. Peter)(#1267RAah)
Neat and tidy, almost to the point of an obsession on the part of the owner. A place for everything and everything in its place, though the decor is warm and the always dimmed lights make the rooms inviting. All the walls are a muted cream color, the floor carpeted in a thin light brown covering. Not quite shabby, but far from elegant, the furnishings are a prime example of tasteful decorating on an obviously limited budget.

The front door opens onto the main living room, extending to the left, with two full-length windows on the far wall. To the immediate right is a small sectioned-off kitchen and tiny dining table. Directly across from the door is another door, usually half-open, that leads to the bedroom.

A knock sounds at the door.

And a /whole/ lot of giggling on the other side.

The door swings open after a few moments, Ben leaning against the side and looking out warily into the hall. Oh no. What -has- he invited over? And why did he bother cleaning for it? He looks over the boys and then to Walker, and breaks into a soft giggle as well. "C'mon in... take over."

Jean-Batiste grins with a sort of shell-shocked brilliance at Ben when he opens the door, his mouth circled with chocolate. He holds a frozen chocolate-covered banana in his hand. Well, about half of one, actually, because veryone knows that bananas melt if you...er. Uh. Needless to say, Batiste has a permablush going.

Jason doesn't have permablush. In fact, he looks /quite/ wicked, standing there behind Bat, /oh/so innocently sucking on his frozen banana.

Trace's banana is quite finished off by the time he's barging into Ben's place with the rest of them, nothing but chocolatey fingers and a bit of brown smudged at the corner of his mouth to show for his much-enjoyed treat. "Hi Ben!" he greets, moving further into the room. He scans it without subtlty, considering.

Glass has still got most of his banana. He sucks at it absently.

Walker waltzes in, moving to Ben's other side to get a close look at the earring on that side. Unlike the others, he holds no banana nor is there any evidence of one on his person in the form of tell-tale chocolate. He lifts a finger to poke gently at the gold hoop in Ben's ear, lips parting in a grin. "Looks nice..."

Jason bounces in after Trace, pulling his banana out of his mouth with an audible *pop!* He giggles brightly, then tilts his head to peer at Ben, eyebrows furrowed. "Heeey... you get a haircut or sumthin?" Another bright grin. Yes, tinged with chocolate.

Lord, there are times when You, in Your infinite wisdom, show omens to your followers, and to those about to undergo terrible trial and temptation. Please, Lord, don't let the frozen banana phenomenon be one of those times. Ben smiles a bit lopsidedly to Walker, tilting his head to give him the best view. "You said you liked it," he manages with utter nonchalance, pushing the door shut again. "The kitchen is... yours," he calls toward the boys.

Glass steps in, "The kitchen?"

"Kitchennnnn!" Trace croons in agreement, dashing for it. He swings himself through the doorframe by putting a hand to it, to make the sharp corner, and leaves a brown smudge.

Mommie, he's sucking his banana at meee...! Batiste ambles after Jason, seeming a little dazed as he tries to finish off his banana before Jason says or does something even -worse- to make Batiste choke. Choking on...oh, brother. The permablush is there to stay. He does remember to smile again at Ben and murmur, "Hey..." though.

Walker rubbernecks side to side, enabling himself to view both earrings. "I do," he agrees. "Gold suits ya... brings out ya eyes." He brushes lightly past the fellow who's apartment is being taken over to cruise toward the kitchen in search of something resembling coffee. After living through the ride here with all those bananas in the car, he could use some strong, black coffee.

Glass watches Walker. He sucks on his banana with a little more art than is probably necessary.

Luckily for Walker, there's a pot of coffee already put on, a delicious-smelling amaretto roast. Ben grins after Walker, eyes slipping away to... hey wait. Is that... Lord, being the Lord and all, must You really be so cruel to poor Ben? Must Walker be wearing laces all over the lower half of him? A shiver runs through Ben and he calls weakly, "Pour me a cup of coffee, Walker?"

Walker's smile broadens further as he passes Glass; who needs to eat frozen bananas to enjoy them? Not Walker, for sure. Oh.. the carpet near Glass must be made of taffy for Walker's stroll to the kitchen has slowed to a turtle's pace. Ben's question blessedly reclaims his attention before he breaks a sweat. "Yeah... Black?" Mmm.. amaretto. "An' where're th' cups?"

Trace is already at the fridge, juggling plenty of items and still digging for more. Coffee? What coffee? It's the sweet stuff that matters! "He's got stuff for sundays in here!" he calls out to his friends, juggling out the box of vanila, and -- dear god -- whipped cream and chocolate syrup. "Ohmigod, even cherries! Love you, Ben!" Another bright giggle as he dumps it all out on the table and goes back to poking through the fridge.

Glass winks at Walker, over the banana.

Jason glances back over his shoulder at Batiste and coyly bites into his banana... Okay, it's pretty suggestive. No, really suggestive. We're talking Showtime at 1 a.m. here. But he hears the magic word, 'sundae!' He flashes a 'come-hither' grin at Bat, winks, then races off to check out the treasure-trove in the freezer.

Benjamin just sort of stands there near the front door, one hand on his hip, the other mussing through his wet, carefully-combed hair and tousling it all up, Robert-Smith-style. "Cabinet just to your left... yes black, please. Love you too, Trace," he rambles off absently, mightily distracted by Walker getting distracted by Glass.

Jean-Batiste just finds a safe patch of living room to stand in, and tries to finish off his banana before Jason can distract him again. He imagines what he must look like, trying to get that last piece of banana off from way down the stick, and turns an even brighter pink, either from embarrassment or poking that dangling thingie at the back of his throat with the end of the wooden stick. Thankfully, he's chewing on the last bite of banana by the time Jason does that come-hither look, so he doesn't injure himself too badly.

There is much distraction running rampant in the apartment. But for the now Walker is spared. There's little about coffee mugs on a shelf that inspires gutter-minds. He pulls two out and sets about filling them with steaming, yummy-smelling coffee. Eyes on the mugs he lifts them and carefully carts both back out to the living room, his step resembling that of one walking a tightrope with his caution. The cups hold his attention till he finds himself before Ben, beaming at the fellow: no spills!

Oh, brown smudges all over the refridgerator handle, and plenty of the foodstuff within... Trace has even taken the liberty of drawing a 'yucky' face on the jug of milk with his delightfully chocolate-smeared fingers, evil eyes with a frowny mouth and tongue poking out. Now he's poking around some more, drawing out some caramel -- the kind for dipping apples -- and some strawberry jam. This gets added to the growing pile on the table.

Benjamin takes the coffee with a few bewildered blinks and a grateful smile. "I don't envy you the drive over," he comments solemnly, slipping his free arm about Walker's waist and moving to guide him to the couch. Slinking past Batiste, who's still loitering in the living room. Just don't look back at the kitchen, Ben. Best that you don't know what's going on in there, not yet.

Glass finishes off the banana, unabashedly. Looks like he rather wants to take advantage of the image.

Walker gives a soft chuckle, letting himself be maneuvered couch-ward. He mutters to Benjamin, "... idea.. it... worse..." he murmurs to Ben. Both of his hands close around his cup of coffee, securing it for the trip down to sit. Louder: "" Nothing like mundane rambling to clear banana thoughts.

Glass looks around, licking the empty banana stick.

Jean-Batiste belatedly realizes he's still standing there like a deer in headlights and looking from person to person to person, and sort of gives this little jump as if he'd been startled awake. He turns and hurries into the kitchen. Water. Washcloth. -Lots- of cold water.

We're really getting desperate for sweets now. A jar of sorgum now rests in the crook of Trace's elbow, as well as some maple syrup and some boysenberry yogurt. Even some pineapple flavored cream cheese gets taken out, and finally, at last, the refrigerator is closed. He moves towards the mountain on the table and dumps the final load, surveying it all with a satisfied cackle.

Benjamin curls himself onto the middle cushion of the couch, letting Walker having the armrest, and leans back for a long drink of coffee, eyes half-closed. Oh, Ben's been kind enough to drag a couple of beanbags into the living room, as well as the big round wicker chair sort of thing from his bedroom. Seats, must invest in more seats. "I have the week off, actually," Ben murmurs with a little sigh of relief. "Summer session starts next week, and then fewer late nights for me."

Benjamin apparently has a really wierd refrigerator.

Jason finishes off his banana in one hand as he picks through Trace's pile of sweetnesses with the other, turning things over and peering at them. Oh, look, /there's/ Bat. Jason gives his older friend a bright grin, licking chocolate off of his fingers. Then back to the table as the last load's pulled out. Wrinkled nose. Pinapple /cream cheese?/ He makes a yuck-face at Trace, grinning, then pads over to where Bat's washing up, slipping an arm around either side of the boy to stick his hands in the water.

Ooo. A week off? Walker grins behind his coffee cup; how much mischief can be accomplished in a week? He'll just have to see. "Ya gonna have ta start sleepin' like a *normal* person come summa classes?" He wrinkles his nose at the thought. "That bites. But I guess a livin's a livin'. I couldn't hack that, though. I'm not a mornin' person." Well, technically he is but only on the merit that he often sees morning in before going to bed. He quirks a brow at the cackle from the kitchen. What is Trace up to in there?

And now all Trace needs is a bowl. A *big* bowl. This is going to be the most kick-ass, gigantic monster sundae the world has seen, you see. He locates a bowl of a relatively nice size -- so it's probably more used to holding popcorn or trick-or-treat candy, but it will certainly serve Trace's purposes! First, he sets it down on the table. Then a spoon is needed... Drawers whiz open and shut -- more open than shut, actually. This kid's in a hurry! Until he finally finds the silverware drawer, and gets out a spoon. The nearly brand new tub of ice cream gets the lid pried off, and then he commences to put ice cream in the bowl. ALL the ice cream in the bowl.

Jean-Batiste is washing his hands in cold water, yup. He cleans his mouth, and takes a long while to wash the rest of his face, too. "I am -never- making these again..." he murmurs, trying to sound decisive and failing miserably. He looks over at the pile of food Trace has amassed on the table, blinking at it in confusion as the size of the sundae becomes apparent.

Glass chews on his banana stick and just stands there.

Oooh, now time for toppings! Chocolate syrup is poored liberally all over the ice cream. At first Trace is fancy about it, little swirly designs, but soon the goal is just to cover up white. Then the chocolate syrup is set down -- or rather, the empty jar of it -- to be replaced with, well, regular syrup. Squirt, squirt...

Benjamin ventures a very small, frightened glance toward the kitchen, lifting brows hopefully. Maybe it won't be so bad as all that. Ahh, who's he kidding? Ben shrugs and resigns himself to the fact that he's gonna have a bitch of a cleanup job to do in the morning. "More -like- a normal person," Ben corrects. "It's a noon class, so I won't be getting up at any ungodly hours." A delicate shiver, remembering the undergraduate years when he had to suffer through eight A.M.s. On a Monday. Lord. "Glass, help yourself to anything," he calls, trying to be helpful. Goodness knows everyone else already has.

Glass says, "Like what?"

Glass says, "I don't need anything." He pauses, shrugs, "I guess I should go home."

Jason quietly takes his time washing his hands, humming softly to himself, a tune that sort of drifted in. Actually, it's from one of the mural sessions, but he can't remember that much. He tilts his head and glances up to the captive Bat and smiles mildly, then leans forward a little to shut off the water. Alll done. Glass thinks of something and looks to Ben, "Do you have one of those sharpie pens?"

Benjamin tips his head, not quite following Glass' progression of logic from not needing anything to leaving. Ahh, but he does find something he needs. "Sure, check the middle desk drawer," he tells Glass, nodding toward the desk on the far end of the room.

Glass wanders over to the desk and has a look.

Walker lowers his chin as he looks to Glass, apparently finding something in that simple statement that means something to him. The corner of his mouth pulls down a little for just a heartbeat before his expression is back to normal. Everyone's got to take their own roads and far be it from him to give anyone directions in that realm. Might wind up sending them somewhere they don't want to be. He sips at his coffee before depositing it on the table to lean back into the couch.

Marshino cherries! The jar is opened, tipped, and Trace lets them all fall down into the Evil Sundae with a 'plop', sticky-sweet cherry juice sloshing in and all. He mixes it around a bit, sucks on the chocolatey-syrupy spoon with satisfaction, then reaches for whipped cream. But oh, wait, no. Whipped cream goes on *last* of course, where is his decency? He reaches for the sorgum and the strawberry jam instead.

Jason leaves to do Mysterious Jason Things, which leaves Batiste...standing just outside of the kitchen, watching everyone except Trace the mad sundae maker with a slow-blinking daze. Maybe he's having an allergic reaction to chocolate bananas...or maybe he's just trying to cope with carbonated hormones.

Glass digs through the drawer until he finds the sharpie pen. He studies it.

Benjamin drinks deeply from his coffee, allowing the warmth to settle him before the caffiene kicks in. He smiles some, rather dreamily, to Walker, and queries, "So anyway, this is my week go insane. Take me to Lafitte's sometime this week, maybe?"

Glass fidgets with the pen a bit, then goes back to sit on the opposite end of the couch from Walker and Benjamin. He glances at Walker.

Jean-Batiste takes in a very deep breath, and starts to cough quietly. He backs up a little, so he can peek into the kitchen at the sugar monstrosity a la Trace forming -and- watch Glass, Walker and Ben at the same time. "What are...you're going to draw something?" he asks Glass tentatively.

Walker tugs his smokes from his back pocket so he can have one, nodding enthusiastically at Ben's suggestion. "Anytime ya want. I've got a show comin' up soon if ya want ta come." He gives a rather impish grin as he adds: "An' now that m'back's feelin' bettah I can work in more fun stuff than borin' ol' lounge acts allow for." His eyes transfer locations momentarily as Glass takes a seat, carefully devoid of anything save the muted humor he's maintaining. He lights a cigarette and drops the box on the coffee table for anyone to grab one should they so desire.

Glass looks at Batiste, "Uh, not really. Do you want to draw something on me?"

Jean-Batiste gives a little start as a lightbulb goes on over his head and softly exclaims, "Oh!" as he looks back at Glass. "Oh," he repeats, quieter, looking down as he licks his bottom lip. "Well...sure, if you want? That could be fun. I'd like that," he adds, in case he wasn't being clear enough. He looks into the kitchen momentarily, to see if Trace really -is- going to add -molasses- to the monster sundae.

Trace takes up the spoon, because a few of these last ingredients are slow moving and require the utensil's aid to glop the various semi-solids onto the mushy heap of sweets passing for a sundae. Jam, sorgum, then the yogurt... It's the fruit on the bottom kind, and he just half-stirs it, prefering the swirls of deep, rich purple and white to a boring, blended lavander. The yogurt container gets set on the table distractedly, on it's side, where it rolls of the table and onto the floor. Then the caramel for apple-dipping gets scooped into the mix. No apples, though. Apples in a sundae, are you mad?! Another delighted laugh from the bluecap who seems to be leaning decidedly towards Unseelie as far as Ben's poor kitchen is concerned. All that's left... cream cheese and the final touch, whipped cream! The whipped cream is probably the only ingredient he doesn't use up entirely, just an artful dab atop the mess here and there... After all, whipped cream is wonderful fun to have around, and even the magnificent Evil Sundae cannot claim all of it. Completed! Joy! Trace seeks out a large wooden cooking spoon, plops it into the mess, and hefts the bizarre dessert in triumph!

Glass smiles, "Okay, come here. I'll show you."

-If- Ben wants to come? Silly, silly question. "Of course I do. I have yet to see the famed Holly Windholm in all her glory." Maybe he uses a different definition of that phrase. A quiet falls momentarily after he speaks, and Ben leans forward to take the CD player remote and flip on some soft-ish music. One of the older Police albums, a true child of the 80's, this one. Trace's conquering lift of the Evil Sundae earns him a giggle from Ben and the call, "Bring enough spoons for everyone." And some plastic tarp, if you would, so Ben doesn't have to rent a steam-cleaner.

Jean-Batiste smiles back at Glass, nodding to him. "Okay." Before he comes over, though, he darts into the kitchen and muffled whipped cream noises commence - he fills his mouth full of the substance, almost giggling and spraying it all over the kitchen before he can swallow it. He grins at Trace, shaking his head in stupefied wonder at the sundae, and grabs a handful of spoons and the roll of paper towel, leading the sugary procession into the living room.

Glass shrugs off his coat.

The Police... now there's some tuneage Walker hasn't heard in a while, even though his CD collection does hold a few of their cuts. Stretching a little he crosses his ankles and snuggles further into the couch. "Won't be as good as if Bobby let me do what I'd really like ta do..." Now there's a common complaint of Walker's. Bobby never lets him have any fun. Sure. "But I'll make sure ya rememba it." No doubting the mischief in those jade eyes with that remark.

Trace blinks. They really want to share his sundae....? Wow! He was certain he'd be the only one who would touch it, but this is great! He'll gladly share. He darts about plucking up big plastic spoons and ladels, shoving them down into the sweet, colorful quagmire. You can't eat Evil Sundaes with regular spoons, after all. They'd melt or something. "Just pick around what you don't like!" Trace suggests brightly as he trots back into the room, dessert held before him. Noticing Glass shrugging out of his coat, he giggles and murmurs scoldingly, "Bat, are you making him strip *again*..?" Not serious, surely just taking off his coat. It's beyond his comprehension that semi-erotic play might occur outside of a bedroom or a game of Truth or Dare. He settles down in roughly the center of the room, placing the Evil Sundae on the floor reverently and spreading his hands and announcing solemnly, "All may partake in the glorious sundae."

Jean-Batiste looks over at Glass and grins shyly for a second. "MmmI don't know what you're talking about..." he murmurs, trying -so- hard to look innocent. Honest, he never dared Glass to strip. Ever. That was Evil Demon-Twin Batiste. Anyone buying this? He sets down his handful of spoons out of the way, then puts the roll of paper towel down by the sundae bowl before looking back to Glass again. "Do you want to sit on the floor, or...?" He takes a step towards Glass, even as he asks it, then looks back at the sundae. The parts with whipped cream look pretty good...

Glass shrugs to Batiste, "Wherever's easier." He takes off his shirt as well. He's got three little mosquito-bite tracks on the inside of his left arm, and he indicates them to Batiste with a gesture, "Draw over them, so Shay won't see and I can go home."

Benjamin hmmms at the arrival of the sundae, and sets his coffeecup aside. If it's to the floor he must go to enjoy this strange lovechild of his refrigerator and Trace's imagination, then to the floor he goes. It couldn't possibly be so bad, after all, it's all things he likes. Who would have guessed Ben liked boysenberry so much. He wanders the few steps to sink down next to Trace and take up one of the mixing spoons delicately. Solemnly, to Trace, "Ought we say grace?"

Walker looks at the concotion Trace sets down, face contorting into a look of horror at the sight. Good gawd, what all is in that thing? Half a grocery store from the looks of it and not the pretty half. The look melts away into a more scrutinizing one as he tries to identify the miscellaneous goos, goops and blobs, leaning forawrd a little. Much like the morbid curiosity one exhibits when passing a particularly nasty collision on the road. "I think I'll pass..." he murmurs. Not having eaten anything more than a handful of mints yesterday and nothing today, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Trace just gives Ben the sunniest smile. "Oh, we ought!" he decides, and claps his hands together, bobbing his head. "We'll do it like this. I'll say some grace, then you say some, and then Walker, then Glass, then Bat, and then I get to again because I made the sundae and that'll be enough grace for my beautiful creation, okay?" He eyes up Walker. "Even if yer not eatin' any, you gotta say grace stuff to my sundae. Alright?"

Jean-Batiste licks his bottom lip, seeming about to debate something with Glass, then just nods silently to him and moves over to sit on the couch next to Glass and take the sharpie pen. "Just...draw all over? Or...oh, I know." He smiles up at Glass and gently holds his arm by the elbow so he can start to draw. Tracks first, obscured with careful curlicues. "I'll say grace, but I'm drawing too..." he calls to Trace, grinning over his shoulder for a second.

Benjamin nods agreeably to the plan, and nudges Trace a little. With all that topping weighing it down, the ice cream won't stay icy for long, and he'd like a taste before it all turns into soupy mush.

Walker nods, unable to look away from the bizarre heap in the bowl. "Sure..." It's almost attractive in its putridness; worthy of a photo. If nothing else but for a reminder to never ask Trace to make a sundae for him. He pulls on his cigarette, watching as what he thinks might be a cherry (it's covered in whipped cream so it's hard to tell for certain) slides slowly down the heap of sweets.

Glass grins, and squirms a little but holds his arm still, "Tickles."

Glass watches Batiste draw and murmrus to him, "What's wrong?"

"Okay." Trace clears his throat and closes his eyes. "Bless this sundae, for it is filled with all that is sweet and wonderful, and bless our apartment and Walker for helpin' us get it, and bless Holly too for dancin' pretty and inspirin' Batiste to draw that one picture, and bless Batiste for worryin' bout everybody and takin' care of Glass so he can get home, and bless Glass coz he wants to go home, and bless Jason even if he had ta go before he saw my sundae, and bless Ben for loanin' me 'On the Road' and letting us hang out here and use his food and stuff and for liking my sundae and wanting to say grace to it." His eyes pop open. "I'm done."

Jean-Batiste looks up from drawing the whorls and snakey black lines down Glass's forearm and inner arm, and grins at Glass. "Hey, I could be drawing on your ribs, right?" he threatens teasingly. There's a band of detail near Glass's elbow, more than enough to hide any small blotches of redness, the details loosening up as he heads towards Glass's wrist. He pauses, considering the question, and murmurs softly, "Just...was worried about you." He smiles a little, looking up into Glass's face. "It's good, seeing you smiling and all." He smiles more as he listens to Trace's grace, and looks back at his blue-haired friend for a moment before continuing Glass's semi-permanent tribal tattoo.

Glass grins at Trace's grace, then murmurs to Batiste, "It's okay."

Benjamin giggles quietly throughout the blessing, chewing thoughtlessly on the tip of his spoon. When Trace is finished, Ben lowers his spoon and holds it in both hands, murmuring solemnly, "Lords of various dairy and sugar-based products, please bless this sundae, for it is a tribute to all the best processed foods which you have given us. Please bless Walker for putting up with us always crashing on his bed, and please bless Glass for helping me frustrate Batiste with French he doesn't understand. And bless all the boys for giving these ancient bones a bit of life again, but especially Trace because he forgot to bless himself, and I should hate for him to have to go to the hell where they only serve vegetables. Amen."

"Amen!" Trace giggles, and notes, "I only like vegetables when Batiste cooks 'em, and only a little then. But anyway, Walker's turn." He brings a big heaping spoonful to his lips and slurps at it, gaze shifting to Walker. Jean-Batiste looks over at Ben, and gives him a quiet raspberry, then gives Glass one for good measure, too. He holds Glass's hand by the fingers, carefully drawing a band of scrollwork and little circles around the fine-boned wrist. "There..." he murmurs, looking over Glass's forearm and seeming quite pleased with the result so far. Of course, he likes charcoal and ink, which are both stark mediums, so... "Should I draw up to your shoulder?" he asks Glass.

Glass smiles at Batiste, admiring the 'tattoo'. "Sure. Wherever you want on me."

Blessings. Hmm. Well, in light of what's already been said, Walker figures he can't much top it. Delving into memory long past he scrounges up something he thinks might work; he always liked it. Clearing his throat, he softly (eyes still on the sundae): "You never walk in front of me, because you know I may not follow. You never walk behind me, because you know I may not lead. You always walk beside me, making our friendship complete. Thank you for sharing your nature, so truthful and so sweet." He finally glances up from the bowl to give everyone a look-over. "So whatever powers-that-be... please bless the stomachs that are about to brave Trace's creation and keep my friends from needing Pepto when it's said and done." he -says- softly

"Hear hear, I only have half a bottle," Ben agrees, and dips his spoon testingly into the creation and coming away with a great drippy chocolatey-cherry mess.

Glass reaches around Batiste to get a spoonful.

Trace grins big at the blessing, but also can't help but giggle, "My sundae walks beside you?" Another laugh. "I'm kiddin', it was a real pretty blessing." He takes another mouthful from his spoon. Mmm, lots of strawberry jam in that bite!

Walker giggles and pulls a last drag off his cigarette before squishing it in the ashtray. "From th' looks-a that bowl, ya sundae could very well get up an' walk beside me." He grins and bends to tug off his boots, making himself wholly at home. From there he stretches out along the length of the couch to watch all of you eat. Fascinating. Not enough so that he's willing to try it, but it is fascinating to watch. His dark eyes glimmer devilishly as the thought crosses his mind that the sundae could be equally - if not more - fascinating not taken internally.

Jean-Batiste looks from Glass to the sundae and back again, then recaps the sharpie pen and leans forward towards the sundae to scoop up the entirety of one mound of whipped cream. He wolfs it down with utter contentment - and a messy grin - then waits for Glass to sit up again so he can start drawing once more. He starts drawing a little doodle-quick Oriental-looking dragon that twists from one of Glass's collarbones to the other, head staring out from a resting spot on Glass's breastbone. Not too fancy, but it's obvious what he means the drawing to look like.

Glass cranes his neck a bit to get a good look at the dragon.

Benjamin tastes carefully, lifting his brows in surprise. All right, so one doesn't usually have maple syrup on one's cream cheese, but really... it isn't disgusting or nauseating or anything. He licks his lips, and goes for another taste. "You should try just a little bite, Walker," he urges. "Just to say that you had."

Trace nudges Glass a little, grinning. "Hey, yer turn."

Just to say that he had. Walker mulls that notion over for a few moments; he's done a lot worse just for the saying's sake. "Well..." he hedges uncertainly. Regardless of previous experience that stuff still looks awfully dangerous. What if he sticks a ladle in and the thing tries to eat him instead of the other way around? He slides off the couch bearing a look of trepidation as he ventures closer to the dessert. "I.. guess..."

Glass blinks, "Oh. God, bless and keep this sundae, because it's sugary sweet and good like you're supposed to be, and like we wish everything else was. Let it nourish us and make us hyper and not stain the carpet. Bless Trace for making it, and Batiste for drawing on me, and Walker for being the patron saint of cigarette smoking. And all of them for not leaving me alone. And, uh, Ben, for whatever it is he does, and for letting us eat his food."

Benjamin dips his spoon in again, trying not to get any of the odder ingredients in the bite. He cups his hand beneath it and beckons Walker closer. See? If Ben holds the spoon, then it can't suck Walker in. Just a quick glance up at Glass, vague crooked smile, and then away again. Yeah, so what if he's just the Door Opener and Wearer of the Velvet Coat.

Benjamin pages you and Jean-Batiste: That part, I didn't get until -just- tonight. I had no idea Glass had a thing for Walker. I thought it was cause I didn't contribute anything.

Walker eyeballs the spoonful, half-expecting it to pull a stunt like from that old movie The Stuff and leap at him. Tentatively he scoots closer to Ben, brow wrinkling up proportionate to the distance closed. Pinching his eyes shut tight he opens his mouth, bracing himself. Higher-powers bless his own stomach since you didn't grant the wisdom to run when the timing was right.

Trace grins at Glass' blessing around a big mouthful of Evil Sundae -- it looks as though, unlike Ben, he aimes for the *worst* -- and then watches Walker sample his creation with interest for a moment before murmuring to Batiste, "Yer turn!"

Benjamin pours the spoonful of sugary mess into Walker's mouth, with a smirk, and watches for the reaction. Of course, that spoonfull of calories is probably more than Walker's seen all week, but he's polite enough not to comment on that.

Jean-Batiste grins at Glass, and draws an extra lascivious tongue on the Oriental serpent, signing the artwork with a fancy 'B' before capping the sharpie pen and looking around at all of you. "Uh...let's see..." He twists the pen around in his lap, looking at the sundae, then around to each of you. "Gods of sugar, please bless this sundae so it doesn't give us cavities before we can pay for a dentist, most especially Trace." A teasingly dirty look shot to his blue-haired friend. "And bless Glass for looking so bad when he licked his banana and winked because I've never seen him do that before, and bless Walker for always surprising me, and bless Ben for leaving me his velvet jacket in his will, and bless Jason for being unpredictable, and bless Trace for being so brave tonight." He looks about to say 'Amen', then stops and adds, "And, uh...bless me 'cause I found all of you." He grins bashfully, and finishes it all with a soft, "Amen."

Glass inspects the serpent, grinning.

The blue-haired artist blinks a little, and smiles faintly at the end of Batiste's blessing. And... well, he *could* comment on that perhaps, but instead he gets a big grin that splits his face as he demands, "You get the jacket?!" and flicks a yogurt and syrup-covered cherry at his blonde friend.

Sweet is the only thing that registers to Walker at first. Sweet and... what's a word for that texture? It doesn't quite fit into gooey, but runny it defies as well. Sticky seems to have a predominate lead but the mushy liquid of it as some melts pushes that adjective out the door. There is no word for it, he decides. No one who ever wrote dictionaries experienced something like the Apocalyptic Sundae. He swallows the spoonful down, expression easing as he does so. "S'not's bad as it looks," he admits in a rather sticky voice. "But I'm pretty sure that much sugah in one bowl is against th' law."

Benjamin looks up guiltily. He has a will? "Are you casting lots for my garments before I've even put myself in the hands of the Father?" he asks in utter confusion. Maybe he just forgot that he'd signed over his most prized piece of clothing upon his demise.

Walker looks to Ben, tipping his head. "I always figga'd ya'd be buried with it." Seems the wise thing to do, in his estimation.

Glass grins at Ben.

Jean-Batiste gives Ben this huge, gooey puppy eyed look and murmurs, "Only because I love that jacket so much...it's -so- beautiful." He sighs moonily, and everything. Swoon.

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