Shore Leave!

Denise yawned - she'd actually been home relatively early, after checking back in at the cellar. Carrying that box halfway across the city had been tiring compared to her usual night. Consequently she was up earlier than usual as well, even after staying up wiping down her boots with vinegar to try and clean off the smell.

She pushed open her door quietly, not wanting to wake her aunt before there was at least some fresh coffee, and when she stepped into the living room she was startled to see a body on the couch. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a squeak as she realizes who it was, and hopped excitedly, but quietly, before scurrying off to the kitchen. Coffee, of course and as she recalled her uncle was pretty fond of pancakes....

Serge-Yves had had a later - and busier - night than usual, so that even though he was used to not getting enough sleep and waking up at the crack of dawn, he wound up lazing there with his eyes closed, enjoying not having to get up right away. The couch was comfortable enough, too, that he was reluctant to stir, but gradually the smell of coffee was enough to make him sit up, rubbing his eyes. "I hope that's pancakes I smell," he called out to whoever was in the kitchen - probably Denise, he guessed, since Hettie wouldn't likely be making anything more complicated than toast for breakfast, left to her own devices.

Denise popped her head out of the kitchen, spatula in hand, a giant grin on her face.

"Yeah! And you're awake, swell!" She hopped again. "When did you get here? Are you stayin' with us? How long are ya stayin'?"

Serge-Yves scratched his head, processing the barrage of questions. "Let's see... yesterday, yes, and about two weeks. Do I get a hug, or are you too busy cookin'?"

Still grining, Denise waved the spatula at him. "That depends on if yer wearin' pants!"

"What kinda house guest d'you think I am?" he said, pretending to be offended. "I got my drawers on anyway - Hettie'd give me a swift boot to the ass if I slept on her couch naked!"

"Well, there was that one time when you was stayin' at ours..." Denise pretended to deliberate, but then skipped over to give her uncle a quick hug. "Okay now I gotta get back to the kitchen or I'll burn somethin' - but there's coffee an' pancakes!"

Once Denise was safely back in the kitchen, Serge-Yves pulled on a sweater and some trousers, feeling weird to be out of uniform. He made his way to the table and got himself some coffee, which was just what he needed after last night. "Smells delicious, sweetie," he told his niece. He looked her over, realizing with a slight surprise that she was almost as tall as he was now. It was hard to believe, since in his memories she was just a little kid.

"So, tell me what's new with you lately," he said once he'd had a few sips of coffee to wake himself up further.

"Gosh!" Denise brought a stack of pancakes over to the table, with a little butter and jam. "Sorry, we don't got no real syrup. But I bet Aunt Hettie told you all the good stuff already. I got a job though sorta - Da don't like it much, an' that's why I'm livin' here."

"Ah, this is great - miles better'n what we get on board ship, anyway," he said, digging into the pile of hot pancakes. "I heard a bit about all that business," he told her, between mouthfuls. "What've they got you doin' for them, if you can say?"

"Mostly it's like - body guardin', I guess? Only there ain't been much to guard from, 'cause Tits' is supposed to be a neutral place. But like - just in case, ya know? And then like, other stuff, when its needed like las' night!" Her face lit up with excitement, but she paused as her uncle shoveled another bite of pancakes into his mouth. "Well - it was cool, but it was kinda gross too so I can wait til' you're done." Still it was apparent she was pretty thrilled by whatever it was.

"Yeah, maybe hold off on that for a sec. Whose body are you guardin'?" Serge-Yves asked, leaving the question of the gross incident aside for the moment.

"Oh, um, prolly not anyone you know.... An it's all like - unofficial official, ya know? 'S name's Ander, uh. Suterre." Denise had to think for half a second for his last name, as she wasn't in the habit of using it. She shrugged. "Rhenea folk."

The name Suterre sounded familiar to Serge-Yves - maybe he knew a cousin, or a brother or something, he thought, trying to remember. "Is he a good feller to work for?" he asked, a little concerned for his niece's well-being even though she seemed happy enough.

"Ander's real great - he's the bee's knees! He gets on with everyone, ya know? An he's got all sorts a great stories. He was in the war - him an' Ralf, in the army. Is it true that army folks and navy folks don't get on much?"

Serge-Yves bit back a saucy response about just HOW they got on, remembering that it was his niece he was talking to, even if she was seeming more grown-up than ever. "Well, we have our differences," he said instead. "I think some soldiers feel like we got the cushy side of the war, so maybe that's where it stems from. But there were naval battles too - lakes and rivers, mostly, not out at sea so much, but even then, we were blockadin' ports so's the Psyrenes couldn't get food an' supplies in that way..." He trailed off, realizing she probably didn't want a recount of the war. "Anyway, that's all in the past, an' we're all on the same side anyway."

Denise listened attentively while she grabbed a stack of pancakes for herself - there was still more batter for whenever Aunt Hettie got up. She nodded as she sat down. "I guess so, yeah. Anyway, yeah, Ander's real swell - I bet you'd like 'im alright. You should come out to the club some night!"

Hettie was not a morning person (not even in the afternoon) but the smell of brewing coffee was usually guaranteed to get her up on the right side of the bed. She swung her legs out of bed and shoved her feet into her favourite slippers, and threw on her robe before following the sound of muted conversation into the kitchen.

"You two are much too awake..." she yawned.

Denise looked vaguely guilty, but too excited to really mean it. "Sorry! But there's coffee *an* pancakes! Or - er, there will be in a sec - fresh off the griddle!" She hopped back up to her station at the griddle, still hot, and poured out a fresh batch.

Hettie ambled over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of joe. "Attagirl," she said with a grin. "So, what's shakin', early birds?"

"I was just tellin' Serge-Yves that Ander is cool, and then he was gonna tell me all his cool stories," Denise said, with the complete and total nonchalance of an excited sixteen-year-old as she watched the pancakes for bubbles. "And then I can tell *my* awesome-my-gross thing later."

Serge-Yves grinned. "I can hardly wait. For the gross thing, that is."

"Gross like what?" Hettie asked over her mug.

Denise grinned again, but contained herself.  "Gross  like.... after breakfast gross."  Her eyes gleamed though.  "Undercity gross!"

"I hear it's best if it waits until after we eat," Serge-Yves said, continuing to dig into his pile of pancakes. "Even if it is about the hallowed halls of our ancestors," he added with a mock-serious tone.