the trick to perfect pancakes is to not whisk too much and to let the flour have a chance to do its thing and rise a little in the bowl. which leaves her some time to get out a couple of pans (because her boys can eat and one pan at a time won't cut it), get the butter browning, and the rest of the ingredients out of the fridge. 

some blueberries for herself and...she could have sworn they still had chocolate chips somewhere. 

"don't be silly, bo. if anything, mom's gonna knock your knees in for wearing them." she opens up the cupboard and leans back to look over the lip of the shelves. 

"and if he was going to rise from the grave, he would've done so last night after you drank his whiskey. damn it, ro, why do you always put things all the way up there?" 

because he likes to make fun of her height. obviously. 

she starts clearing some counter space, ready to hop up like an ambipom to get the chocolate morsels. 

boruta maher

☉

no, he wouldn't have ended up sleeping in someone's front yard. he would have ended up with a broken neck or with hypothermia or something just as bad, given that he thought it would be a great idea to fly back to rustboro on the back of his aerodactyl.

"you and ollie morales were a mess." she blinks. "but you weren't there at the wrong time. i - " her gaze darts to the flowers, grimace hidden around a nibble of pizza. 

"i texted him. probably could have handled the breakup better." a scrunch of her nose. "but he crossed a line and it, well, wasn't going to work out. clearly."

boruta maher

☉

lance is gone and it's over and it being over means something can finally start. it means, if she wants to, she can tug that towel off from around bo's waist and they can pick up where they left off from last night. the thought makes her fumble with the flour and some of it puffs out and over her hand. 

she sighs, shakes it out, and reaches to wipe up the small spill, chiding herself silently to get it together. 

composure regained and a whisk in hand, she cradles a bowl in her arm, green eyes light with amusement as he admits he's more than good - he's great. 

"no. roman's right. he's a dick." her smile tugs. 

while she whisks, she raises a brow. "i think i have some of dad's old sweatpants lying around somewhere." hers certainly aren't going to fit him. "check the box in my closet."

boruta maher

☉

his antsy fidgeting doesn't escape her notice and so she doesn't respond right away, mulling over the answer long enough to sort out her thoughts. he doesn't really have a reason to lie to her and she's known him the past eight years. his...pining hasn't exactly been subtle. 

she just refused to accept it for what it was. even now, it's hard to wrap her head around.

i think, in my heart, it's always been you too, but for some reason she still can't say the words. she still can't bring herself to say it. hell, it's barely been twenty-four hours since they've started...whatever this is. 

she reminds herself that they can't just pick up where they left off. 

"you were always the romantic," she says softly. her pizza's cooled off enough that she can bring it to her mouth without threat of scorching her tongue. she does so now, eyes lighting up as nostalgia and greasy, delicious pizza hits her taste buds. 

"i'm sorry...about lance showing up today."

boruta maher

☉

oh, she wants to pull the weeds from his mind, to shoo away whatever pests are nibbling on his happiness. she's not convinced - that much is clear - but she lets the issue rest. sometimes, among friends, you need to know when to back off. 

"noooo," she exclaims, "i already feel like i don't see you enough!" truth be told, she got kind of used to having him around the house. even though he was hopped up on pain meds for most of it, it was nice living with him. easy and painless. 

even if roman was a little shit about it most of the time.

her brows furrow and she tilts her head. "huh? i mean, i know they don't get along well, but it can't be that bad."

ollie morales

☉

a generous, special business grant. an assuaging of her worries with the promise that she'll put bodyguards on the premises. willow's mouth falls to a flat line and she shifts from side to side. 

they could use the money. their margins are razor thin as it is and she doesn't have enough time in the day to manage the flowers, her grass-type patients, the bee hives, the livestock, and the shop. and ophelia's only eighteen, balancing her already overloaded schedule with schooling. 

if she could have afforded to hire someone else, she would have by now.

"okay," she says. "but i'll need some time to prepare some land." she looks at greyson. "i don't want all of our hives making it. we can have a dedicated space."

shrewd businesswoman she is, she says to dahlia, "if i provided the blueprints, could you have some of your folks make more boxes on the other side of the property?"

Greyson Connors dahlia goode

☉

she does not need to have the last word. she does not need to have the last word. and besides, roman already did a number on his psyche. and also most importantly, she should be leading by example...or something like that. 

but still her hands are balled into fists and she is staring daggers at his back as he tromps down the stairs and slams the door shut behind him, hopefully out of their lives forever. 

"the fuck? he's a dick and the mole on his face is ugly and hairy," he says and willow's anger evaporates, replaced with an abrupt snort of laughter. 

"language, ro. go feed the greenhouse pokemon please so i can start breakfast." he rolls his eyes but thankfully follows instruction, grabbing a coat on his way out. 

willow eyes bo in his too-small towel, cheeks tingeing pink, and then turns to grab some bowls and ingredients for pancakes. "i'm fine. are you okay? 

boruta maher

☉

anger comes in bursts. in waves. it did so with samuel too. the flowers helped, but there aren't any flowers here and every word that comes over lance's mouth makes her angrier and angrier. tears slip down her cheeks - hot and agitated. 

she almost slaps him. 

"you have no right to decide ANYTHING for my son or me."

she's about to answer, everything, but roman pokes his head out from the hallway with a shit-eating grin and a middle finger raised. 

"get fucked, moleface!"

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

indignation turns to frustration. her hands curl to fists and immediately her cheeks redden, eyes watering because she can't believe this. and it's all the more embarrassing because she cries when she's mad and she's really, really mad. 

"are you serious? you told the father of my son to stay away from him! from us! lance, you're lucky you got a text at all!"

LANCE VOLLANS boruta maher

☉

bo's footfalls are heavy on the stairs. she wants to call him back in because he can't just stand outside wrapped in a towel, but lance is in the way. 

she glares right back up at him, indignant at the accusation. "we haven't - i have not been sleeping with him." 

which feels wrong to say because last night she'd felt closer to bo than she ever had lance. and with the exception of her shirt rucked up in the morning, bo's hand stretching across her bare stomach, that's as exposed as they'd been. 

"why are you here, lance?"

boruta maher LANCE VOLLANS

☉

roman had absolutely run off to do shithead things. he's at least been better about letting po stretch his legs, though the trees probably don't agree, what with the bark being stripped off of them by the wolf's massive claws.

before bo can get away from her, she leaves another hasty kiss on his passing shoulder and watches him go. stares a moment longer until the shower water turns on. 

on her way to her mom's room, she picks up a few pieces of stray clothing. they're dumped in the laundry basket sitting in the hallway. laying coiled on eleanor's bed is gretchen. 

"you really shouldn't be climbing trees in your old age, gretch," she murmurs as she nears. the window is open. the old cat had most certainly clawed her way up and into the room. she purrs lovingly as willow nears and lifts her head to rub her cheek against curled fingers. 

eleanor sleeps on. normally she'd wake her - it's better, keeping her in the rhythm of things - but today she just kisses her cheek and settles for waking her up when breakfast is ready. 

so in the kitchen she goes, setting out flour and eggs and sugar and cream and some fresh blueberries (chocolate chips for roman though). she has a bit of flour on her cheek when the water in the shower stops.

her cheery humming continues when the door opens, as she assumes it's roman walking in behind her. but when she hears lance behind her, she whips around, mouth dry. her face flushes and she gapes like a cod down the hall as bo walks into the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around himself. 

"lance! this isn't - "

"maher."

LANCE VOLLANS boruta maher

☉

willow pours another glass of lemonade for herself and goes to plop down into a chair at the wooden kitchen table. there are coasters on the table, but she doesn't bother with one as she slides the lemonade over to ollie. she's given up on salvaging the table a long time ago. 

annoyance flickers and even more concern wells up, but she can't force him to talk. maybe a better friend would push, but after the day she's had, she just can't. 

"mkay, well, food's on the way. so what's this mean? i know bo was compensated a bit more when he became captain, but a hell of a lot of responsibility came with it too."

ollie morales

☉

her withering look says it all - i don't believe you - but he comes back down from wherever he went to tuck his shoes away. will goes back to dialing the pizza joint and climbs the stairs, knowing ollie will follow. 

eleanor is sitting on the cushioned reading nook that overlooks the front lawn, staring quietly out at the flowers. she does not turn when ollie walks in or when willow starts giving her order (after a few casual pleasantries and how do you do's, of course, because marcy's a sweetheart and will likes to know how she and her furfrou are doing). 

elisabet shifts in her pot, shaking off dirt so she can hop out and greet ollie with a wave of her leaven arms. 

"mhm, yep. a large meat lover's pizza and a small veggie delight. can you throw in a house salad as well please? extra croutons? thanks, marcy."

from the other room comes a shout: "DID YOU GET MOZZ STICKS?"

"crap, no. i forgot, ro. call marcy back and ask."

"you have the phone."

"and you have your own phone."

"i dunno the number."

"look it up."

silence. willow tilts her head. roman starts talking in a more normal tone in the other room and she grins, pleased.

"okay, mister head ranger. i'm gonna need you to tell me what's up," she says and moves to the fridge so she can pour him a glass of lemonade.  

ollie morales

☉