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Who: Waver Velvet & Assassin of the Many Names
Where: Their flat
When: To...day... yes.
Summary: WHY IS PARENTING SO HARD? By which I mean just domestic fluffy shenanigans.
Warnings: ...Waver abuse?

[It's a little disheartening how quickly Waver gets into a routine. Do odd jobs around town, read at the library for a while, and then come home with dinner. He's never even been in the habit of regular dinners before living with the MacKenzies, and now with his little charge-- ah, he should probably bring home a toothbrush--

And that's exactly the problem. Stop on the way home to fetch dinner and a toothbrush, come home with dinner (he forgot the lettuce for the salad again! Dammit!), two toothbrushes because he isn't certain which cartoony mascot she'd prefer, four children's books of dubious printing quality, and a plush that hasn't yet decided if it would like to be a bear or a pig, and chocolate syrup without any ice cream or cakes to use it on.

...Maybe he can drink it right out of the bottle while she isn't looking.]

I'm home.

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[Assassin's own routine is much less settled, her daytime wanderings dictated by her whims more than anything. She has, however, learned to be home before he is, and what time that typically is. When he announces himself, she appears quickly, as she generally does. Maybe she has gotten into the habit of lurking around the door when she expects him home, too.]

[...It's not much of a greeting, but she looks up at him for a single significant second, then down at the shopping bags he carries. She doesn't have much distance to clear before she's close enough to hook a finger into the top edge of one, Assassin attempting to pull it aside so she can peer at its contents.]

[He has at least stopped jumping when she seemingly pops out of nowhere! Instead, Waver gives her a most unimpressed (fatherly even, he would hope) look as she goes about her antics. That's progress, isn't it? There are two toothbrushes in it; one topped by a grinning white cat and one hugged by a little blue bear, and also a lonely bottle of chocolate syrup.]

If you're going to snoop, you may as well help me put everything up.

[When he says that, she moves to take the bags from his hand. Someone who didn't know better might mistake the action for being obedient; she doesn't even nod.]

[...She's a little curious about the syrup, but she supposes she'll have to see what's in the rest of the bags first.]

[Waver knows better than to assume it's obedience, but he won't complain if she feels like listening to him. Alas, she will find nothing to go with the syrup in any of the other bags. And everything for salad except for lettuce, again, because Waver is a dunce.]

Um... I remembered that you told that woman you can read, so I thought maybe you'd enjoy these.

[He practically shoves the bag with the books and the plush toy at her, because for all that falling into routine is easy, showing affection without getting flustered is still something Waver is rather clumsy at.]

[It just seems logical to assist him, so she'll go along with it. She is a pragmatic child, for whatever other behavioral issues she may have. When he thrusts the other bag at her, she blinks, then tilts her head and takes it. She doesn't waste any time pulling it open and peering inside.]

[The bear-pig is a garish shade of reddish-orange, staring back at her with the kind of soulless beady eyes that small children often have the urge to chew on for some reason. It's unspeakably ugly, in Waver's opinion, but then so is Rider. He shuffles nervously as he realises the mental comparison may be why he bought it, and he doesn't know if she'll see the similarities too or if she'll just hate it.

As for the books, Waver opted for the classics; a book of fairy tales, something about ponies because little girls love ponies and even dunce Waver understands this, and one of those books designed to teach small children that the monsters living under their beds are harmless and imaginary. He has no doubt that her sympathies will lie with the monsters rather than the protagonists, of course.]

A-anyway, I have to see to dinner, so that should occupy you for a while.

[Assassin's eyes are immediately drawn to the stuffed animal—though it's hard not to notice, given the color. She blinks again, shifting the other bags onto her wrist so she can actually reach inside and retrieve it. Examining the books in more detail will have to wait for the moment, alas.]

[Automatically, she looks back to Waver when he speaks again. It's hard to say how pleased she is; she doesn't seem to dislike it, but her expression remains blank with a hint of uncertainty. The pains of having a weird, stoic child as your ward, or something like that. In any case, she goes to deposit the bags she has taken in the kitchen, since he has said he's going to take care of dinner.]

[Well she's not throwing it at him, so that's something. Still, Waver's shoulders slump in disappointment as he toddles to the kitchen after her.]

If those are too heavy, I can take some of them back...

[She shakes her head, and then she lifts the bags higher to illustrate. She does not, however, set her load on the counter, instead just leaving the groceries on the floor in front.]

[The bear-pig gets to go on the counter, though, where it can sit and watch everything with its beady-eyed stare. Her toothbrushes, too. And her books. Assassin studies their covers one-by-one.]

[Waver is at least very perceptive when it comes to her little quirks, so there may be a small smile on his face as he digs through the bags for his dinner ingredients. He might even hum a little as he puts his apron on.]

[When she hears him hum, she glances up from the book she seems to have settled on. (It's the one about monsters, for the record.) She watches him for a second longer, and then she sets the book down and zips over to him, standing at his elbow and peering at dinners ingredients.]

[He's chopping peppers and there's an onion and some chicken nearby. VEGETABLES EVERYWHERE.]

...Er. Did you want to help?

[She studies the array of vegetables for a moment longer, and then she looks up to Waver. She nods, though the motion isn't as decisive as it might general be. Well, maybe it wasn't her original intention, but...]

[Should he let her handle knives? She's young, but she is very competent. Waver considers it for a long moment before stepping back and offering her the knife.]

If you cut yourself, I won't let you near so much as a pair of scissors again.

[There, that sounds threatening, right? Hohoho.]

[She puffs up slightly at that, seeming indignant. Maybe that means she takes his threat seriously, though.]

Don't look at me, you'd be the ninny who'd done it.

[It's just not the Waver Velvet way to simply say he trusts her not to cut herself.]

[Uuuu... Her hands are preoccupied, and she can't menace him with the knife. He's saying dumb things while she can't retaliate! For that, she treats him to one of her rare wordless vocalizations—and an unusually loud one at that—as she tosses her head and harrumphes. Turning to the vegetables in front of her, she sets to work, chopping them extra intently.]

Well how am I supposed to know? It isn't normal for children your age to know how to handle them, so it'd be silly to just assume!

[He's arguing with a mute 8 year old (or so. Possibly.) about her proficiency with knives. This is what his life is reduced to.]

[She continues to glare at the vegetables in front of her. She can't really argue his point, since she doesn't actually know what would or would not be normal, but this doesn't seem that hard... In any case, she's going to chop up all these vegetables and she won't cut herself at all, and that'll show him!]

[Waver honestly isn't certain what disturbs her more; that she took offence in the first place, or that she seems to know what she's doing enough to prove him wrong.]

[There. There are your stupid vegetables, Waver!!!]

[He should say something encouraging, right? Something encouraging...]

They look nice.

[No, that's stupid.]

Er. Good job, I mean.

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