delia_icon.gif russo_icon.gif

Scene Title Velveeta
Synopsis Russo's breakfast leaves out one magic ingredient… Well two according to Delia.
Date January 22, 2011

Dorchester Towers — Russo's Apartment

"I got sunshiiiiiine~ On a cloudy day~" the song is loud, terribly off-key, and completely acapella, but there's no denying it's got soul, attitude, and an upbeat quality to it, much different from the tune Bradley Russo had been singing for the last few weeks. "When it's cold ooooooooutsiiiide, I got the month of May~ I guessssss you'd saaaay what can make me feel this way~"

The familiar smell of ham wafts through the Dorchester apartment, unusual for this time of day, but familiar nonetheless. Particularly for the recipe Russo has in mind. He's making eggs benedict. Hopefully Delia likes eggs. "Creeeeeamy~" he sings to the hollandaise sauce, "Creeeeeeeeamy~"

The English Muffins have been properly toasted and the poached eggs are slowly lowered onto a small slice of ham atop the English muffins. The hollandaise sauce is dapped on top of the eggs followed by a tiny sprinkling of parsley. The plate is strategically placed on the tray, along with a glass of orange juice, a vase with a single pink carnation, a set of cutlery, and a napkin.

Once everything is properly in it's place, Brad twirls out of the kitchen, tray in hand, and raps on Delia's room once before opening the door. "Hey— I hope you're hungry. I may have outdone myself this time…"

Pulling herself into a sitting position, Delia turns her head toward the door while trying to brush the unruly curls from her face. Her sleepy eyes open and close a few times before she swipes the back of her other hand over them to rid them of the little crusties. Stretching both arms up high, she lets out a pained groan and brings them back down.

"Wh— What time is it?" Her room is usually dark, simply because opening the shades would allow for someone else to see in. Not a good thing. She turns to fnid her iPad and thumb over the sleep button. Seeing that it's actually much later than it feels to her, the redhead attempts a smile at her brother. "What did you make?" He has a tray in his hands, which means she's not going to be forced out of her warm spot for breakfast. Rosa always makes her get up and get dressed.

When the tray is set down in front of her, Delia gives it a quizzical look before turning up to Brad again. "Where's the velveeta?"

"Early enough for breakfast, but not early enough for lunch— " Brad declares as to the time as he sets the tray in front of her. His throat clears and he blinks at the question, however, his own voice becoming raspy around the growing lump in his throat. "Ve-ve-velveeta?" his eyes narrow considerably, but his lips crack into a grin. His voice squeaks, "You haven't even tried it!! You need to try it before you think it needs changing! And Velveeta isn't even real cheese. You may as well put Cheez Whiz on the darned thing…" His tongue clucks, his head shakes, and his dimples grow. Yeah, he's in good humour today. "This is a delicacy. I swear. My mother taught me to make it, God rest her."

His tongue rolls over his lips as he cants his head at her and manages a soft sigh followed by a quiet whistle. "So. How's tricks?"

"This is eggs benedict, right? You're supposed to have velveeta on it… what's this?" She pokes at the hollondaise sauce scraping a little trail of it around her plate. Lifting it up she tentatively touches the tines to her tongue before rubbing the tip against the roof of her mouth, deliberating. It's an agonizing length of time for the chef, for any chef. Gradually, the expression on her face turns from doubtful to appreciative. "It's good, sort of lemony… right? Is there lemons in it?"

She cuts off a slice of egg and lifts it up. It wibbles on the end of the fork for a bit, sending coiling spires of white steam into the air as it cools. Blowing on it, the redhead brings it to her mouth and tests it as well.

There's a brief nod as Russo confirms. "It has lemon juice, butter, egg yolk, spices… it's good. It's intended to be just a light sauce. Believe me, it's way better than velveeta on egg with ham." He actually cringes at the notion; it makes his stomach turn slightly.

"I'm glad you like it," he grins a little as he glances at the bed before sitting on it. His arms cross over his chest and he eyes her carefully. "Presumably we need to talk, don't we?" Swallowing, his eyes turn downward. Of course, this is exactly the kind of chat he avoids.

Good thing about the accidental siblings, they have things in common. Delia may be just as avoidy as Brad is in multiple aspects. She doesn't like being exposed, she doesn't like being rejected, and she really doesn't like being abandoned. Therefore, she came to her own conclusions as to what to do during the long hours spent alone. "Brad? I— I'm sorry. You're right. It's your house, I'm just… here."

In an effort to avoid explaining herself any further, she stuffs another bite into her mouth and chews very slowly. The slower she chews, the longer it'll take to swallow, which will leave her mouth too full to talk.

There's a lump in Brad's throat. He hasn't had to really apologize for a very long time. A very very long time. His cheeks redden a little as he talks to the floor, "Look, I know you're an adult and stuff, but you're in a fragile state. Not always, just— " his cheeks redden as he pushes himself off the bed. "It's a tenuous situation," he murmurs as he shuffles towards the door. Yeah, conflict is not something this fake-Ryans does well.

Placing her fork and knife on the plate, she pushes the plate to the other edge of the tray. Apparently three bites is enough. "I get it," she murmurs quietly, turning her head to stare at the window. "I'll get out of your hair as soon as there's someplace else to go. I could ask Doctor Brennan if I could stay with him or something, if it's easier for you." The young woman completely missed the point of the entire exchange, regarding it as just another 'while you're under my roof, you'll live by my rules' talks.

There's a quiet exhalation of air as Brad freezes. Again he swallows the growing lump in his throat. With another gulp of air, he twists around to face Delia again, his lips parting silently while he attempts to formulate some quiet thoughts. His tongue dabs along his lips in that quiet. Finally his head shakes, "H-how?" His grey blue eyes seek out hers as his lips twitch upwards slightly. "I— that's not what I— " his eyebrows furrow somewhat. "It's just… I… Carrots, it's not— I don't— " a hand rakes through his hair irritably as he straightens. "I… I think you should stay." There it is.

She doesn't argue, not exactly. "It's a nice place.. and thanks.. for looking out for me, I mean. I just don't want to wear out my welcome." Delia falls silent for a moment as she studies her hands on the blanket. There's a tickle in the back of her throat that begs to be coughed up but she's ignoring it, trying to will it away. A cough means she's getting sick, getting sick isn't part of her plan to get better. Clearing her throat a few times, she attempts to satisfy it just enough to stop bothering her. "There's just… " She doesn't want to say that name that drives him up the wall. "He's going to leave… and then where would I be?"

Russo purses his lips, "I need to keep you safe. I— " he can't explain it. "You don't know me well, but it's … it's just something I have to do." Something he'd failed at so many times when his mother and fiancee were alive. His last fiancee. His lips twitch slightly as he shoves his hands in his pocket, finally stepping back towards her. "And where is he going to go? If you want to leave— " he clucks his tongue again as his head shakes slightly. He can't stop her, and he won't try. "— but he's not even yours." Like Russo should talk. It's all very confusing.

"I know— " Her murmured admission comes at the same time as she tilts her head to give Russo a hollow stare. Delia's blue eyes are still ringed with dark shadows, like a racoon. She hasn't been getting much sleep since their fight. "I know he's not mine but he's my friend and sometimes, he makes me feel like I'm the only real friend he has. He held me and kept me alive, no one else did." Not that she tried to enlist anyone else for the task. "I owe him my life… over and over. He was the one that got me out of the car, what would have happened if I had gone with the sirens? Nick was the one that saved me from that."

Pressing her lips into a thin line, the redhead knits her eyebrows together and gives the man at the door a pleading look. "I know what Eileen said, she's got every great reason for the way she feels… The best…" there's a pause as her blue eyes drop to the comforter and she shrugs one shoulder upward. "— but you don't know what happened and you don't know Nick. You haven't seen inside of him."

"But I do know that you're in no condition to defend yourself," Brad interjects quietly. "As it stands you're already in a vulnerable position, I'm sorry, but there are some things I can't yield on. Some things I can't let go of. He's allowed to be here, but he knows the rules." Russo's eyebrows tick upwards as he twists back towards the door, shuffling slowly back towards it. "I've never had a sibling. I grew up just me and my mom…" The thought is lost somewhere, released, never finished.

His cheeks flush as he's turned away from her, his smile long gone with a slight frown. "Know him or not, I heed warnings. They need to be heeded."

"Can you ease up on them just a little? Like, can he come in the afternoons for swimming? As long as Brian or Doctor Brennan is there? Brian could defend against an army of ninjas if he wanted to…" As far as Delia is concerned it's a fair compromise, more time and it's with a chaperone a little more capable than she believes her brother to be. Not that she thinks Brad is incapable, but Brian could defend a house against an army of ninjas… plus in her dream he had fire hands.

"Sorry about the St. Jude's medallion, I didn't think it would be such a big deal. It wasn't very expensive and …" Shrugging again, Delia allows her own thoughts to drift off and she gives the host a weak smile. "I'll pay you back for it. I was looking at all sorts of stuff I could do online. Did you know that your autographs are worth at least $25 apiece on Ebay? Plus if I sold one of your used up tissues…" — She doesn't go there.

"My… tissue? Seriously? I.. We.. K and I… we try to keep the stalkers at bay. Like… a lot. D-don't sell my tissues on Ebay. Please. That's— " Brad actually cringes now, completely disgusted by the notion. In fact, he's so hung up on that, he struggles to get back on subject. "Can I think on it?" he finally asks, back still to Delia. "I… it's not.." not that he can explain himself, not if he wanted to.

"And you don't need to pay me back, I can afford more than that." And it's true. Not that he'll explain himself further. "I am fine financially— " his lips twitch again. You wouldn't know by looking at the way he decorates this apartment.

And she has him, if she wants to exploit it. "Alright, no tissues… Or autographs. I'll even take down the unauthorized fansite with the bathroom cam." Delia's so flippant about that little tidbit, it's hard to figure out if she's joking or not. "Just please let Nick come over when Brian or Doctor Brennan is here? Or can Nick take me to my physio appointments?"

Such a small thing to ask, as far as she's concerned. "And can you please tell him it's okay that he was here when you left? He didn't touch me except to carry me to the couch after I fell off the door."

Russo blinks, not that Delia can see. "We'll talk about it later, Delia," he uses her first name. It's not an idea he's used to yet. "And you texted the wrong person. You should have texted Brian in the first place— " his lips press together tightly. "Or Jaiden." Not that Brad actually knows him, but…

"And for the record, I'd intended to be back, but… I had to work." And then not work. But that's beside the point, "I couldn't get back to the city. And then I had to deal with an urgent matter." Tracy Strauss' murdering video. Oh the joy.

"Jaiden couldn't have made it after curfew…" Delia murmurs as she turns back toward the window. Now both of them have their back to the other, not a good way to start the day. "Brian… maybe he was busy fighting off an army of ninjas… I don't know. I didn't think of him as fast as I thought of Nick." Her head tilts downward and she closes her eyes to settle back to a resting position. Apparently the young woman is resigning herself to sleeping the day away, rather than fight again.

"I just didn't know you'd be back… You didn't answer my texts and I was scared. Nick is who I thought of… after Dad and you." At least he ranks third on the list of most important people rather than first.

There's a small tick of Brad's eyebrows, not that Delia can see it. He sighs quietly as he treads closer to the door, not really addressing anything she's said. "If something happens to you while you're here— " the tension is visible in his shoulders, even when staring at his back. "— you don't know. You just don't know. Lose everything you cared about at once and maybe you could."

His head shakes and he's stepping out the door, leaving this particular disagreement to be resolved in round three or left to his thoughts or something.

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