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[withmeinparadise]

Code once I'm not on a phone

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[withmeinparadise]

The Honeymooners? What are you, seventy?

[ Says a man who absolutely watched reruns of it when he was a kid. ]

How d'you like your eggs?

[evocation]

However. I'm not picky.

[She does find some rice and jalapenos and plops them on the counter.]

And I'm from Brooklyn. We have welcome signs with those quotes on them and shit.

[withmeinparadise]

Never been.

[ Eggs for her first, then--once the pan heats up. Belatedly, he remembers the tortillas and goes back to the fridge. ]

You wanna start nuking some of that stuff, be my guest.

[evocation]

[She lets out a long-suffering sigh.]

I can't believe you're not making me breakfast in bed.

[But yes, she'll start helping.]

You've never been to New York at all, or just Brooklyn?

[withmeinparadise]

Hey, I could be making you do the real cooking. Lucky for us, Wade already did that.

[ And he's a good cook, with tastes that line up well with Sam's. Convenient. ]

Brooklyn. Caught a train in Penn Station once, though.

[evocation]

[She makes a mental note to thank Wade—or apologize to him—for the food theft. But mostly, she's focused on that second part.]

I wish I could take you. To my New York, I mean.

[withmeinparadise]

[ He makes a little noise, agreement. It's a nice idea, being able to see where she's from. ]

Show me sometime, maybe. [ And, after a moment's pause. ] When I'm not frying you some eggs.

[evocation]

You mean like, share memories with you?

[She hadn't considered that.]

[withmeinparadise]

Close as we'll get to the real thing, right?

[evocation]

Yeah.

[It's a cute idea, actually. She pulls the rice out of the microwave and slides it over, looking thoughtful.]

Are you going to show me your memories?

[withmeinparadise]

You saw the prison.

[ There you go, Kyna, memories. ]

[evocation]

[She actually looks a little offended.]

That's all I get?

[withmeinparadise]

[ Wrong answer. He shrugs, grabbing some plates. ]

What else do you, uh, wanna see?

[evocation]

I don't know. You've been all sorts of places, right? Or you could show me Boston.

[withmeinparadise]

...Okay. But you gotta show me what magic's like.

[evocation]

[Strangely, no one's ever asked her that before, so at first she's taken aback.]

...Okay. What do you want to see?

[withmeinparadise]

I dunno--never seen real magic before.

[ Once he's got some rice on a plate, he slides her eggs--over easy--on top and pushes it toward her. ]

Gotta do it after we eat, though. No ranchero sauce on hand right now, so they ain't exactly what you'd call authentic, but they oughta help with the, uh, hangover.

[ You can't exactly go wrong with eggs, not least because they're about where Sam's cooking expertise ends. While he's talking, he cracks another pair into the pan. ]

[evocation]

It's okay. Nothing's authentic here.

[Tragic. She's smiling though, still leaning against the counter beside him.]

I can show you whatever you want, I just don't want to scare you off.

[withmeinparadise]

Ain't that the truth.

[ And more's the pity. ]

You think some magic's gonna be enough to scare me off?

[evocation]

I don't know. Some of my jobs can get pretty intense. I'm trying to figure out if I should go easy on you.

[She's definitely teasing.]

[withmeinparadise]

So start me off easy. You gotta use it for something besides jobs, right?

[ It's magic. It's probably endlessly useful. ]

[evocation]

What, you want to watch me charge my phone?

[Now she's just being difficult to be difficult. It'll be easy to shut her up, though, because she takes a bite of food and her eyes light up in the way only a hung over breakfast can achieve.]

Holy shit, this is awesome.

[withmeinparadise]

That's all you can do with it, charge stuff?

[ He doubts it. She talks about magic like living without it is hell. There's gotta be more to it than cell phones and monster-killing, or whatever it is she does.

For now, though, he's going to take the compliment, even though most of it belongs to Wade, who cooked basically everything besides the eggs. ]

I'm not much of a cook, but I know my huevos.

[evocation]

[She's sure she can think of something. Maybe just a teeny monster. No big deal. But wait—]

You don't know how to cook?

[withmeinparadise]

Eh. [ He shrugs, wobbling a hand. ] I can cook enough to feed myself. A lotta good street food down south, though--old ladies with little market stands, I'm never gonna make better picada colombiana than them.