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[uproared]

placeholder for now bc my hands are fucking frozen

val stop peeing in here

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[uproared]

Oh, it'd be funny. Hilarious, even. That's what makes it so good.

As long as you stood still and kept your mouth shut, you could probably trick a few people into being scared of you. Heh... but that's not what you want, is it? [ She doesn't think it's a bad thing anymore. Dangerous, infuriating, annoying... but not bad. ]

[gravings]

[ At least they can both agree that Gray's vibe is pathetic. But at least this time it doesn't feel like Mordred is berating her so much as teasing her, and Gray smiles a little in recognition. ]

I don't think anyone's been scared of me in my entire life.

[ Though they may have felt a little nervous about Rhongomyniad in the second before the blast reached them. ]

Sometimes I think it would be nice if people took me a little more seriously, though. I'm just not sure how... other than by fighting them.

[ She tacks on the last bit because it's Mordred she's talking to. ]

[uproared]

Don't knock it till you've tried it!

[ Yeah, fighting would have been her first suggestion... and usually her only one. But since it's Gray, she feels obligated to try a little harder than usual to come up with an alternative solution. ]

Just work on your scary face. If people think you might beat the crap out of 'em, that's usually enough.

[gravings]

Scary face...

[ Hm. That isn't the worst idea in the world. And it is true that Mordred is more than capable of putting out scary energy despite her/their small stature. ]

I suppose that if you can do it, I should be able to too. Um, would you be willing to show me an example?

[uproared]

Heh, no problem. Watch and learn!

[ It's far from the seething expression she wears when she's truly mad, but she still puts on a reasonably intimidating glare for Gray to study. ]

1/2

[gravings]

[ Gray peers over with enhanced vision. Though she's been fascinated in a morbid way about the way Mordred wields her face, she's never thought to imitate Mordred's expressions. She and Gray so rarely exist on the same emotional wavelength, if ever. But just by looking over, it's surprisingly easy for Gray's face to slip into a mirror image... ]

2/2

[gravings]

[ Kind of. ]

L-Like this?

[uproared]

[ To Mordred's rare credit, she tries not to laugh.

Keyword: tries. ]

Uh... like that, yeah. [ The edge of her mouth twitches a bit. ] Ever thought about getting a helmet? No reason, just wondering.

[gravings]

[ Gray is getting the funny feeling that Mordred isn't impressed. Her lukewarm glare wilts into a pink frown of mortification. ]

... I've considered a helmet, but I thought it would restrict my field of vision too much.

[uproared]

[ Dryly: ] Eh, you get used to it.

[ Especially if you don't have a choice. ]

Just keep on practicing that expression! And remember, it's okay if you fail! Not everyone can be awesome at everything like me!

[gravings]

[ The sad part is that Gray hasn't actually seen Mordred fail at anything other than social situations, so she's forced to accept that Mordred may in fact be awesome at most things. As for practicing her angry expression... staring into a mirror is off the table, but maybe she can work in a bit of self-suggestion to help her along.

Anyway time is a construct, so Gray sets down tea and a plate for Mordred: a trio of poached eggs on toasted, rustic-cut bread and seasoned cheese sauce. It's a version of Welsh rarebit, adjusted with liberty due to the slim grocery pickings nowadays. Gray thinks it's still decent, but her culinary standards have always been modest. ]

Please let me know what you think.

[uproared]

[ Watching Mordred eat is a like watching a train wreck in motion. She picks up the first piece of bread and starts tearing her way through it as if there's an invisible timer ticking down somewhere... and, of course, she talks with her mouth still half full. ]

Not bad, mouse. Not bad at all. I don't know why, but it tastes oddly cozy. [ She swallows and reaches for the tea; her eyebrows scrunched in thought as she sips. ]

Tch... if my father were here, he wouldn't care at all about the taste. He ate everything with the exact same look on his face, even though it was the dullest, most blandest shit imaginable! And we all lied like idiots and said it was good too, 'cause none of us wanted to disagree with the king! Damn! That place was really hell!

[ Having worked herself up, she slams the tea back down and rips into the next piece of toast, growling like an angry dog. ]

[gravings]

[ As with a proper trainwreck, Gray can't look away from the carnage. She's never watched herself eat, which is a normal thing even when you aren't averse to your own face, but she feels vaguely self-conscious now about how she must look if she has even a chance of appearing like Mordred. But she doesn't think it's a bad thing either for Mordred to have so little care for how she looks.

Gray blinks, jostled from her observation by the slam of the cup. Mordred is complaining about olden British food... It seems like a petty complaint, but then again Gray doesn't know anything about the medieval culinary condition. ]

So he wasn't the kind of king who demanded expensive ingredients...

[ A surprisingly likeable trait in a king. ]

The royal family of my Britain lived in luxury in every way, so it's strange to think of a king satisfied with poor cooking.

[uproared]

Strange? It. Freakin'. Suuuuuuuuuuucked!

[ It's rare for her to be so relatively light-hearted when talking about her past — sure, she's complaining, but in an (almost) normal way. ]

I don't care about cost, but food should be more than just nutrients, dammit! I'll die if I ever have to eat one of Gawain's potato dishes again! Just thinking of his smug face makes me wanna kill him a second time!

[gravings]

[ Gray will casually ignore the part about the Sir Gawain violence, though she's fairly sure no one deserves to die for being too much of a potato fan. ]

Did he like potatoes that much? I never heard about that in any of his stories...

[uproared]

Who are you gonna believe? Some dusty old stories, or someone who was there?

He didn't stop at just potatoes, either. His whole idea of cooking was mashing everything together into one big mess no matter what the ingredients were; all while singing that damn song of his! Sure, it was funny watching the other knights' reactions, but I still had to eat it eventually! [ In her room. Alone. Like a loser. ]

And then there were the comments! "Be sure to take more vegetables with you, Sir Mordred!" "Are you eating enough, Sir Mordred? You don't seem to be growing at all..." Where the hell did he get off, actin' like he was everyone's big brother?

[gravings]

[ Before Gray can try to deny that she didn't believe Mordred, she's getting steamrolled by Mordred's rant. Which she doesn't mind, actually; any insight into how the Round Table actually was is interesting to her. As intimidated as she is by King Arthur, she feels she owes quite a bit to the other knights.

She finds Gawain's comments cute and wouldn't mind getting to know a doting, brotherly knight herself, but she's sure that sentiment wouldn't be welcome within Mordred's earshot. ]

A song... What kind of song was that?

[uproared]

You're really gonna make me do it?

[ Gray didn't explicitly ask her to sing, but details. In a really bad, awful, no-good imitation of Gawain's voice: ]

Mash, mash, mash. ♪ Mash it all up, and there's nothing you can't eat! Mash, mash, mash. ♪ If you can crush it, you can eat it! Mash!

[ Despite the sing-song tone, her expression remains dour the entire time. ]

[gravings]

[ Gray starts laughing before she can stop herself. She should be stopping herself because risking Mordred's ire in one's own house is probably a bad idea when she's shown herself more than willing to Clarent a building up, but it's just too funny. At least Gray's laugh is as polite as she is, never too loud and good-natured rather than mocking. ]

[uproared]

Hah? The hell are you laughin...

[ But she looks at Gray's smile, and despite her Mordred-ness, she can't help breaking into one of her own. ]

... I guess it is pretty funny. Bet I could come up with a better one, though.

[gravings]

I like his song. [ It's cute. ] It would be hard to beat...

[ Is she trying to goad Mordred into doubling down with another terrible song? Yes. ]

[uproared]

[ Immediately, she grumbles a complaint. ] You've got some real freakin' nerve, praising another Knight of the Round Table in front of me... argh, fine. Fine! I'll prove that I'm better than some idiot with muscles for brains! Get ready to be impressed!

[ She's quiet for a few moments, thinking. Then, much less confidently, her voice wobbling as she goes: ]

T... take some mashed veggies... ♪ Knead and turn, knead and turn ♪ Take some mashed veggies, mix 'em around and— SPLAT! [ Punching her open palm for emphasis. ]

[gravings]

...

[ This is the sound of Gray trying to calculate whether or not laughing would be too rude. In the end, she decides she can't laugh at Mordred's momentary bout of c*teness. ]

Yours is more exciting.

[ It contains 100% more punching. ]

[uproared]

Right? Right?! I knew you'd get it!

[ No she didn't. ]

This is why I like you, mouse! You've got more sense than any of those Round Table blockheads!

[gravings]

[ Gray blinks. She kind of knew already that Mordred didn't find her objectionable, but it's surprising to hear her outright admit a positive feeling. ]

You like me?