( his brother tongue is one she is far too familiar with, so she pays her no heed; it at the very least tells her that her brother is alive under all those layers of whatever drugs and drinks he had the past couple of days.
soon enough, she's got water on the kettle and some tea bags from the uppermost shelf on the cupboard (did pietro buy these for himself, or does he keep them for her? it doesn't matter, really; after all, it's black tea, and the smell reminds her of home, and would be great with some fig-stuffed phyllo pastryβ) and waits a beat or two while she glances at the situation about her, fingers tapping on the edge of the counter, as if counting the seconds.
for someone so bothered by how slow everything around him is, pietro sure takes his time pulling off his bed. it's perfect, though, for it gives wanda the perfect amount of time to go about the penthouse and cleaning up the bigger messes, using her telekinesis to move heavy furniture around to where it's meant to be, clearing up a path towards the one expenditure wanda considers to be pietro's best: the record player. a vinyl that resds respighi is picked from the shelf, and a favorite of wanda's fills the space with some amount of serenity.
she doubts pietro's "friends" would ever find value in the music that he spends a lot of his money on.
wanda half-waltzes in tune back towards the kitchen, as the kettle clicks its fulfillment, and she drags two tall, ceramic cups onto the kitchen counter. )
You'll want yours with sugar, I imagine?
( she calls out, half expecting her brother to step out of his room any time now. )
no subject
soon enough, she's got water on the kettle and some tea bags from the uppermost shelf on the cupboard (did pietro buy these for himself, or does he keep them for her? it doesn't matter, really; after all, it's black tea, and the smell reminds her of home, and would be great with some fig-stuffed phyllo pastryβ) and waits a beat or two while she glances at the situation about her, fingers tapping on the edge of the counter, as if counting the seconds.
for someone so bothered by how slow everything around him is, pietro sure takes his time pulling off his bed. it's perfect, though, for it gives wanda the perfect amount of time to go about the penthouse and cleaning up the bigger messes, using her telekinesis to move heavy furniture around to where it's meant to be, clearing up a path towards the one expenditure wanda considers to be pietro's best: the record player. a vinyl that resds respighi is picked from the shelf, and a favorite of wanda's fills the space with some amount of serenity.
she doubts pietro's "friends" would ever find value in the music that he spends a lot of his money on.
wanda half-waltzes in tune back towards the kitchen, as the kettle clicks its fulfillment, and she drags two tall, ceramic cups onto the kitchen counter. )
You'll want yours with sugar, I imagine?
( she calls out, half expecting her brother to step out of his room any time now. )