[jesse, 001.]

[alphas-daughter.livejournal.com]

[There is something about impulsively buying a ticket on the next available Greyhound and hightailing it back to the Tri-cities that makes Jesse feel sufficiently... accomplished.

Because as far as anyone and everyone knows -- she wasn't supposed to come home for Thanksgiving. School shiz and general hecticness and all that jazz.

She bites down on her lip and quietly slips out the keys from deep in the mess of her shoulder bag to open the front door. No one is home at this hour. Mercy would be down at the shop, and her dad would be at work terrorizing people by the sheer force of his presence.

She has enough time to unpack, nap and then wake up in time to surprise them all.]

Comments

[mildlysexist.livejournal.com]

[And she's right, mostly. Mercy is at the shop, Adam is at work, and Ben--

Is frying steak in the kitchen. Shirtless. Because that's how he rolls.

So when he hears someone at the door (ain't it nice, being a werewolf with super senses), he has no idea who it could possibly be. Usually the Wolves come and go as they please, but he can-- sense them, sort of, when they're close. Pack magic.

Whoever this is, it's not pack, and he can't smell them over the steak.

Soooo he'll just casually grab a kitchen knife, flip it back against his arm in a rather typical combat hold, and head for the door.]

[alphas-daughter.livejournal.com]

[The warmth inside the house is a welcome change from the cold so she lingers a little at the door, her forehead pressed to the inside of the frame as she huffs out a breath.

Sure, she needs to get out of the coat she swiped on the last minute from a friend, because the thing is oversized and heavy -- but just. God, its good to be home.]

[mildlysexist.livejournal.com]

[OH WAIT NO HE SMELLS THAT

And it's a -- guy?

But there's another scent there, just beneath it, that he recognizes.

So when he comes around the corner at least he's not, you know, brandishing that knife.]

Little warning next time, girl?

[If his accent is a little stiffer than normal, it's probably only because he can smell another man on her.]

[alphas-daughter.livejournal.com]

[That voice. That one, she did not expect. Or well. She should have because-- anyway, if she's a little wide-eyed from surprise, well.]

Oh. [Ben. In her parents' (oh she loves that thought; she may not call Mercy "Mom" but it is so good to say parents and mean her dad and one of her favorite people in the world) house -- and the fact that Ben is sans a shirt is not lost on her, deargodwhat.] I am not here.

[She smiles. Cue lame hand wave.] You did not see me, you did not hear me come in. [Trying not to laugh now -- no, seriously, why is this situation weirdly awkward it's not like she hasn't seen weres in shredded clothing... or less.] You will not tell my father I am home when I specifically whined that school was keeping me away on a National Holiday.

[mildlysexist.livejournal.com]

And if you think that right bullshit is gonna work on me, you're tanked.

[but now that he's satisfied she's not about to bust down the door and cause any real damage, he's just going to saunter back into the kitchen with the expectation she'll follow.]

You're just in time to help me with the turkey, love. I can't be arsed to know what all I'm supposed to be doing to it.

[alphas-daughter.livejournal.com]

[Drat.] Turkey. Right.

[She follows suit -- so much for her plans of napping and staying out of the way. She doesn't shrug off the coat, though she does drop her bag on her dad's fainting couch before meandering towards the kitchen where-- oh that smells so good. Food. Food is good. She couldn't eat on the bus because doing so would make her nauseous.]

But you already have it in the oven. [She turns around. Gives him a look focus on the face, bby; focus on Ben's face.]

[mildlysexist.livejournal.com]

[he just shrugs.]

Yeah, but you think I've got the faintest idea where to go from there? Our Sweet Lady of Mercy mentioned basting but I'd get fucked before I know what that's supposed to be.

[just because he was the one with the holiday off, man. It's a hard life when you've got werewolf swagger, ladies and gents.]

[alphas-daughter.livejournal.com]

Basting. Right.

[She shuffles over to the drawers and rummages around for that one pastry brush she recalls her father using year after year. Turning around, she holds it up--]

See this brush?

[--and walks over to the oven which the opens... oh hello, that's really warm. She waves the brush a bit in a gesturing motion.] You use the brush to... thingy the uh, juices. On the turkey. [She shakes her head and closes the oven.] But the turkey looks fine though, can I go upstairs? Bus ride was hell. [/cue pleading look]