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[personal profile] victormakesart
Victor hates cooking the way she hates romantic comedies, but she can't leave all the work to Cole, so she's spent the day peeling potatoes for mashing, washing veggies, preheating ovens, and measuring things in measuring cups.

And then came Anya's bath because in a supreme case of cosmic irony Victor's children love to make messes. On a related note, after that came scrubbing the carpet in the playroom and then temporarily giving up and tossing a throwrug over it then going back to work to make it passable.

By the time Vic gets dressed in something that looks nice (a pretty, sleeveless blue cotton blouse that James insisted on getting her, and jeans that fit and have no paint stains on them and black shiny shoes), it's almost time for the dinner to start.

"Are you going to be a good boy today?" Vic asks, hefting a casserole dish.

"'Course I am," Jude answers, without looking up from setting the table. Tables, really, since their usual kitchen table only has room for eight.

"I wasn't talking to you, sweetie, I was talking to Uncle Jonny."

The Scarecrow makes a sour face, lounging his long limbs on the couch. "Call me that again and I'll gas you."

"You have to be nice to me, I'm handicapped."

"You were handicapped before you ever needed a cane."

It's good-natured, of course, but James gives Crane a swat anyway. "We're not staying for dinner anyway, we just wanted to wish you luck tonight."

"I didn't want to wish you luck tonight," Crane says.

"That's because you're a mean old man," James replies, whispering something to him that is certainly not for repeating in polite company.
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