Participants:
| Scene Title | The Shopping Trip |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Just your average trip to the grocery store to buy food for a group of terrorists. |
| Date | July 12, 2011 |
A Supermarket
The number of people that Graeme can take with him on a shopping trip for groceries for the safehouse is slim. But this time he's dragged a teenager along, and they're at the grocery store, with one basket each and the actual produce. The problem of course being that instead of the usual every-other-day trips, Graeme's been busy, and so the bigger trip is making up for it. But with the number of people in the safehouse, and his own metabolism and Felix's, it's no wonder that when he does bring groceries, the bags can take up all the surfaces in the kitchen.
He's also making Devon be responsible for the shopping list, and so after he's loaded nearly a pound of apples into his own cart, he looks over to the teenager. "We've gotten produce, what's next?"
While he might've been itching to get out of the house again, the grocery store wasn't exactly at the top of Devon's list. It actually ranks somewhere near the bottom, if it's even on the list at all. But he agreed, the wanderlust too great and being voluntold to go anyway sealed the deal. He'd far more readily taken over the list, even making a few notations on there for his own wants. Besides, a growing boy's got to eat just as much as the speedster and the man with super stamina.
"We need…" Devon's eyes flick over the list then to the items in the cart. Already there's a selection of fruits and root veggies, things that keep well enough without refrigeration, collected between the two baskets. The list is consulted again. "Noodles. And rice. Then meats, cookies, eggs…" The list continues, but isn't rattled off, the boy's gaze lifting toward the teacher.
Graeme nods, and in the order that it was read off slightly combined with the order that it makes the most sense to walk through the store. Perishable goods into his own cart, and then dry goods and things into Devon's, though a brow quirks when they get to the cookies. "You sure we need this many cookies? I don't remember putting it on the list." He sticks his tongue out at the teenager. "I'm pretty sure you put three boxes too few."
The items for Devon's cart are more or less tossed in with a lack of regard. It all gets chewed up anyway, doesn't matter if the pasta starts out broken or not. The cookies are considered as Graeme points out a lacking in quantity. "Oh." He pauses then shrugs. "I forgot to consider everyone else. That's thoughtless of me." Six more boxes, of various kinds, are pulled off the shelves and put into the basket. "Should be enough for everyone. Now, eggs."
There's a faint chuckle from the teacher at watching Devon put in more than the recommended addition. They'll all get eaten, though, and most if not all of them before the next time that Graeme does a big shopping trip for the safehouse. "Much better, really. Most people like cookies, and all that, good variety." Before they leave, though, he does grab another two bags of the creme wafer cookies, throwing them across the aisle and into Devon's basket with a wry smile as both of them make it. Easy shot though it may be. "Alright, eggs, milk, orange juice, and butter while we're at it. And hm, seems I throw groceries better than basketballs."
"That's because you suck at basketball," Devon quips, a brow raising at another two more bags of cookies finding their way into the cart. "We need coffee too." The aside is added as he leads the way to the eggs. He pauses at an end display, the sort which has small and inexpensive toys, this one offering pocket sized suction dart guns. A glance toward the older man has the teen pulling one from the rack and dropping it into his basket before beelining for the eggs. There, he begins putting cartons of eggs into the cart, looking oh so innocent.
Three of the two dozen egg cartons in, Graeme raises a brow. "Alright, we've got eggs. We usually don't go through that many," he says, tone of voice on the side of suspecting the teenager of doing something. But the teenager is continuing to put eggs into the basket, until two cartons later, Graeme simply steps between the teen and the basket. "Alright. Alright. Enough eggs, in case you haven't noticed the fridge in the basement doesn't actually have that much space in it, and we'll need to be able to have milk and juice and other perishables. Not just eggs." There's that penetrating, suspicious look again.
There really is a reason behind all the eggs. Another carton is held, poised to go into the cart when Graeme moves in. Devon meets him with an aloof expression and a shrug. Back into the cooler goes the final carton and the list is looked at. All as though nothing were amiss. "I like eggs," he states, idling toward the cooler housing the milk and pasteurized juices.
"You like eggs, yes," Graeme says, "but we do not need twelve dozen." There's a faint curiosity in his voice as he continues to try and be the voice of reason, perhaps also trying to find out what crazy plan the teenager is going for this time, but the carts both get pushed towards the other side of the aisle. As Graeme puts the milk and juice into his cart, there's a faint bouncing on his heels as he waits to see if perhaps, just maybe, he'll get an explanation.
"I'm growing." It's all the explanation Devon offers, completely neutral. He could be talking about a math problem he'd encountered in school for all the consideration he gives Graeme's curiosity. "There's butter still. And then just small things, crackers and instant ramen and granola." The list is folded and the boy's head comes up and turns to regard the older man. "…What?"
The raised eyebrow goes up again, but whatever snarky comment Graeme has, it's restrained. Obviously. Then again, it's not hard to guess, given the man's metabolism. After all, he likes eggs, too, and he's saying that the quantity is too much. In silence, he continues adding things to the appropriate carts, before pausing in front of the display of chocolate, something that wasn't on the list but seems to be entering his cart nonetheless. "For appeasing women," he explains, as if they hadn't just had the awkward discussion about eggs.
It's now Devon's turn to look curious, eyes going from the chocolate to Graeme then back again. "Right. Judging by the women you and I know, I'll make sure to stand behind them when you make a peace offering of it." He nods to firm the idea, a slow bob of his head and a sober expression on his face. He looks over the two carts then turns to look over the signs and displays throughout the store. That he can see without moving, of course. "That everything?"
"Sometimes," comes the drawled response, "that might be wise. Other times, I just like doing nice things." It's a bit of Graeme being goofy, and there's a sheepish grin on his face. "So sometimes, for surprising. Given, might be good to stand even further away." When there's a sufficient quantity of chocolate and such that it will last for the duration of several shopping trips, Graeme nods, beginning to move towards a nearly-empty checkout line. "Unless you forgot more eggs, yes." The teacher rolls his eyes. "And no, that is not permission to go get any more eggs."
