MARCH UPDATE

POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 10:50:38 GMT

[attr="class","beck"]theo wears a look of confusion.

"no, i've never had taco."

rocket did a lot of things — but he stays silent, only dipping his head slightly at the comment.

when they step back out into the open, theo lowers to a knee to release the mudkip free.

"close. don't think i have anything for you to use, though."

[attr="class","noodles"]kris flynn-edwards

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 12:54:35 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","flynn"]

the look theo wears is almost comical, if not absolutely insane.

[break][break] who hadn't had tacos before?

[break][break] he gives an exasperated sigh.

[break][break] "we can stop by the grocery store on the way." he reaches for the mudkip that's still in theo's arms, scooping her under the arms like a baby. "c'mon, let's go."

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"] THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","flynnsq"]

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 13:57:59 GMT

[attr="class","beck"]it's a shitty apartment that's nondescript for the most part except for the one framed picture on top of a television set that looks decades old. it's a picture of him and Victoria Beckett when they were much younger, though not any less innocent.

"need a drink?"

[attr="class","noodles"]kris flynn-edwards

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:02:49 GMT

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[attr="class","flynn"]

"won't say no, if you're offering."

[break][break] the grocery bags are sent out the counter, full of crinkling plastic. flynn begins to pull the supplies out one by one.

[break][break] he tries to look nonplussed as he asks.

[break][break] "who's that? i didn't know you were the sentimental type." the last is said as a joke, paired with a slight laugh, as he puts some eggs in the fridge for safe-keeping.

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"] THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","flynnsq"]

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TAG WITH @theo

POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:06:02 GMT

[attr="class","beck"]theo heads over to one of the cabinets, pulling it open to reveal a small collection of liquor. it's mostly whiskey, some from kanto, some from hoenn.

"i'm not."

opting for the one from kanto, he pours it into two glasses as he speaks.

"victoria, my daughter. i adopted her in kanto."

[attr="class","noodles"]kris flynn-edwards

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:08:50 GMT

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[attr="class","flynn"]

my daughter.

[break][break] he freezes. something ice-cold seeps through his veins, not all unlike the same way it did on that story night five years ago.

[break][break] he thinks of Alethea Ivanova .

[break][break] "... i didn't know you were a dad."

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"] THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","flynnsq"]

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:11:38 GMT

[attr="class","beck"]"not many do."

approaching, he places flynn's drink on the counter, then raises his own to sip.

"but she's in rocket, too."

[attr="class","noodles"]kris flynn-edwards

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TAG WITH @flynn

POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:16:53 GMT

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[attr="class","flynn"]

THEO BECKETT didn't seem like the dad type. sure, arguably, he could've been seen as a mentor for many rockets but... the organization didn't exactly breed the loving, warm type that one associated with fathers.

[break][break] rocket — flynn can't even imagine what it would be like to have had noah in rocket. or even thea.

[break][break] he swallows, grateful for the glass. it's cool in his hands, but burns on the way down his throat.

[break][break] a long pause.

[break][break] "... i had a son." he isn't sure what makes him say it. impulse? need? something to make the ache go away? "before."

[break][break] he takes another swig.

[break][break] it still hurts. but it's the good kind of hurt.

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"] THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","flynnsq"]

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:18:43 GMT

[attr="class","beck"]theo isn't expecting anything in return, so naturally, he's caught off guard at flynn's words.

"oh."

another pause follows.

"what happened?"

[attr="class","noodles"]kris flynn-edwards

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:23:02 GMT

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[attr="class","flynn"]

"he died."

[break][break] it's been years. many years — flynn has had enough time to come to terms with noah's death. at least, he can talk about it without wanting to stab himself in the chest.

[break][break] it still hurts though.

[break][break] flynn turns, placing the flour tortillas on the counter. turning around, he glances at theo. "you keep your knives somewhere?" his smile is wry. "your cooking knives. not your stabbing ones."

[break][break]

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"] THEO BECKETT

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TAG WITH @theo

POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:25:56 GMT

[attr="class","beck"]for once, it's not remorse nor guilt he feels — it's sympathy.

it's a strange feeling.

caught in his own thoughts, theo looks up.

"drawer to your left."

[attr="class","noodles"]kris flynn-edwards

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TAG WITH @flynn

POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 14:31:00 GMT

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[attr="class","flynn"]

flynn is glad that theo doesn't pry. it helps, even just a little.

[break][break] his fingers wrap around the drawer's edge, pulling it out. he takes the one that looks the sharpest, sets it on the counter. "can't believe you've never had tacos," he says. "what did you feed your daughter?"

[break][break] a rare joke.

[break][break] he cuts though a sheet of plastic easily, the sharp edge of the knife slicing through like butter. under cold water, he rubs the chicken before placing them on a nearby cutting board. pats them dry with paper towels. seasons appropriately.

[break][break] the click-click-click sound of a stove.

[break][break] "can you cook?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"] THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","flynnsq"]

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 15:29:48 GMT

[attr="class","beck"]"not taco."

a rare joke from theo as well.

after another sip, he places the glass on the counter, then circles around it, approaching flynn and the stove.

"not really. but you can teach me."

[attr="class","noodles"]kris flynn-edwards

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POSTED ON Jul 21, 2021 15:54:31 GMT

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[attr="class","flynn"]

"ha ha."

[break][break] flynn glances over his shoulder, a wry smile. "you're just aging yourself, you know."

[break][break] pushing the chicken to the side, he grabs some of the onion that they bought from the store. he cracks it open expertly with the blunt side of the knife and swiftly cuts them into tiny pieces. he does the same with a clove of garlic. "i'm not very good at teaching," he says. he thinks briefly of Alethea Ivanova . an old, hazy memory. something tightens in his chest. he ignores it. "but you can watch."

[break][break] he drizzles some oil over a pan, and then throws the ingredients on. he lets it sizzle momentarily, pushing the ingredients around with a wooden spatula.

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"] THEO BECKETT

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