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39th Teddy Bear [voice/action]
[Elicia had been sleeping next to Gracia off and on now, after papa had left. She thinks maybe it makes her mama better, that she's close and there. And like so many other days, Elicia gets up and rubs her face, bleary-eyed and ready to start the day. Only, what greeted her was the silence of a empty, blue room; the essence of it—everything that made it her mother's—was sucked out. All she had was a pillow behind her and a blanket clutched in her hands, and for a moment, she doesn't understand.
It takes some time before she finally does.
The house is really quiet. Winry and Ed must be doing the things they do every day. She numbly leaves the bed and goes into the bathroom, stripping down like always, turning on the water and being careful that she doesn't make it hot. She gets soap in her eyes, but it's okay, because it washes out. When that's over with, the clothes come next—it's a dress, and she puts her ties in her hair, trying to make them match evenly on each side; it sort of looks right, she thinks, so she goes to the kitchen and uses a chair to get to the cabinet so that she could get the cereal box. And then the milk. Spoon and bowl. She doesn't make orange slices because the knives are bad and off limits. And then she sets the table and eats fast.
It's all wrong. But she's had nightmares about a day like this, only soothed when she woke up and looked at her mother, or wandered into her room in the dead of night, just for a look. But now nothing's left in her mama's room, and the fog of loneliness pushes on her from all sides as she sits on the couch and waits for something to change.
Over time, she lets herself cry. It builds up like a wave traveling toward sand, gradually peaking as the force carries it. It's okay, she thinks. She'll come back, or papa. They wouldn't just leave her behind for long. Not even the malnosso could change that about them. Right? They'd come back and there wouldn't be any reason to cry.]
[Voice]
Mama—
[She breathes in, voice watery and unsure. Everyone had to do things like this. This was the right thing to do. This is what people here had to do sometimes, for the ones they loved. She inhales a shaky sob.]
Gracia... Hughes... Went home.
[It's weird to say her full name like that. She doesn't like it. But she has to be grown up right now.
Later in the day, she'll be out working on the garden Raine had helped her replant, and has no intention of going inside until the sun starts dipping low. She doesn't really feel like playing today. A lot of her presents from the birthday are left scattered in her room, where she's left them from the night before Gracia had left.]
It takes some time before she finally does.
The house is really quiet. Winry and Ed must be doing the things they do every day. She numbly leaves the bed and goes into the bathroom, stripping down like always, turning on the water and being careful that she doesn't make it hot. She gets soap in her eyes, but it's okay, because it washes out. When that's over with, the clothes come next—it's a dress, and she puts her ties in her hair, trying to make them match evenly on each side; it sort of looks right, she thinks, so she goes to the kitchen and uses a chair to get to the cabinet so that she could get the cereal box. And then the milk. Spoon and bowl. She doesn't make orange slices because the knives are bad and off limits. And then she sets the table and eats fast.
It's all wrong. But she's had nightmares about a day like this, only soothed when she woke up and looked at her mother, or wandered into her room in the dead of night, just for a look. But now nothing's left in her mama's room, and the fog of loneliness pushes on her from all sides as she sits on the couch and waits for something to change.
Over time, she lets herself cry. It builds up like a wave traveling toward sand, gradually peaking as the force carries it. It's okay, she thinks. She'll come back, or papa. They wouldn't just leave her behind for long. Not even the malnosso could change that about them. Right? They'd come back and there wouldn't be any reason to cry.]
[Voice]
Mama—
[She breathes in, voice watery and unsure. Everyone had to do things like this. This was the right thing to do. This is what people here had to do sometimes, for the ones they loved. She inhales a shaky sob.]
Gracia... Hughes... Went home.
[It's weird to say her full name like that. She doesn't like it. But she has to be grown up right now.
Later in the day, she'll be out working on the garden Raine had helped her replant, and has no intention of going inside until the sun starts dipping low. She doesn't really feel like playing today. A lot of her presents from the birthday are left scattered in her room, where she's left them from the night before Gracia had left.]
[action]
He's still surprised by it, too, after all.]
But--thanks.
Re: [action]
[With Tony's hand still in hers, she watches Elicia, wondering how long the girl will stay asleep, and how she'll feel once she's awake. The pain won't have gone, but hopefully crying some of it out will have helped.]
[action]
... Is it late now?
[Yes, she was obviously asleep for hours and hours. She hopes Ed and Winry aren't coming home too quickly, because she's not ready, and she still needs to tell them--and they need something to eat...]
What'm I gonna make for dinner...
[action]
If you're hungry--[Well.
He probably shouldn't make something. Unless it is Eggos. He's good at Eggos. But maybe they could all figure out something together.]
Re: [action]
[Pepper finishes the thought, offering her own smile to Elicia. The girl seems calmer, but Pepper's sure that's just temporary. Still, it's probably best to get her to eat while it lasts.]
Would you mind showing Mr. Tony and I where the kitchen is?
[action]
It's this way...! We always have lots of stuff...
[There are lots of fruits and vegetables. Lots of things good for a healthy diet. Tony would probably frown at the lack of instant food around here, though.]
[action]
And what do you want? I think it's safe to say you can have whatever you want.
[In light of circumstances.]
Re: [action]
Lunch is a different story. Even a late lunch.]
Definitely safe to say. [Although Pepper has to hope Elicia picks something she can make. She's an amateur cook at best, although she can follow directions. She's definitely above the Eggo level.]
[action]
[She looks up, unsure, voice lowering.]
What do heroes eat?
[action]
...Sandwiches?
Re: [action]
[Although they may not have the rolls necessary for true hero sandwiches. Pepper isn't going to be picky, however, especially if it makes Elicia smile. She looks down to the girl.]
What would you like on yours?
[action]
[She looks up to Tony on that one as well, waiting, as if he has the perfect answer to this. Well, Iron Man? What is a hero sandwich like? Because she'll make hers exactly how yours is gonna be.]
[action]
--Well. American cheese. That seems like a good place to start. And not mayo. Mayo is for villain sandwiches.
Re: [action]
Well, I don't think mayo itself is inherently evil. If you just use a little, it's okay. [But she pulls out a bottle of mustard anyway.]
They've got ham and turkey. [Since Tony will probably want the suggestions.]
[action]
[action]
Turkey? You know--I was just about to say that. Perfect choice, really. You're a natural at this whole hero sandwich making business.
Re: [action]
Lettuce and tomato to finish it off? [They're safe vegetables, and pretty standard for sandwiches.]
[action]
Heroes get stronger by eating vegetables.
...
I think.
[action]
Sounds right and heroic to me, kiddo.
Re: [action]
[No broccoli. Just what they've discussed, and Pepper closes the fridge once the ingredients are all out on the counter.]
Now we just bread, and we'll be good to go.