undergrounds | Food, Glorious Food (closed to Arthur)

Before anyone said anything, let us be clear: this was not a date. This was Nancy, trying to make up for the inconvenience she had posed to one of her (surprisingly dear) friends the night of Lewisham. And she was doing it the only way she knew how to that didn't involve spreading her legs.

She was cooking dinner.

Her apartment was cleaned for the occasion, the lights dimmed and more than a few candles lit in the small apartment. Juliet had already been warned against playing with them, and so the cat had contented herself to laying on a particularly soft part of her couch and taking in the noise of Nancy cooking as only a cat could do.

Now, Nancy wasn't a particularly good cook, nor was she particularly bad. So she'd spent the afternoon whipping something simple together (salad, bread, salmon, and a lot of wine) for the two of them. By the time Arthur was due to arrive, Nancy had nearly everything ready.

She was prepared for the occasion not in her usual work clothes, but something a bit more casual. She still wore a skirt, but her shirt was a bit more what most people would call appropriate. Her makeup was subdued, and her hair hung down freely around her face. Very much the sort of way someone would dress if this were a date of sorts, instead of just simply an 'I'm sorry I ruined your already shitty evening thanks for putting me up on your couch' dinner. Which it was. For the record.

Still, she wanted to make a good impression, considering the state she'd been in the last few times she'd seen him. Show him that she could be respectable. The whole thing made her stomach turn.

So she'd already had a glass or two of wine before Arthur showed up, what of it? Nancy was already bounding to the door when the knock sounded, setting her glass down on the kitchen counter as she passed. She nearly flung open the door to greet her friend with a warm hug and a brief kiss on the cheek. "Arthur! Come in- I've got beer or wine, whatever you'd prefer, in the fridge, and plenty to eat, so I hope you're hungry. Let me get your jacket, yeah?" She held her hands out for the object in question. "Welcome, by the way, you find my place alright?"

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Nancy beams at him. "Have you? That's what I like to hear." The boys needed a good role model in their life. But she couldn't be obvious about it. And there was no way she was bringing anyone near the den.

"There's a good dozen of them, I should probably warn you."

Arthur pauses in the middle of a sip of wine.

"A dozen?"

Deadpan: "yes." Under the thumb of this horrible, horrible fae, each one of them another reason to stay near the old man, just as they were a reason to leave.

"The youngest is seven." Saying out loud, it nearly made her sick. "They're well behaved enough." She made sure of it.

"Hey, as long as you're not asking me to babysit," Arthur says with a shrug, though he still looks a bit overwhelmed. He always thought having four children in the same place was a bit much, but twelve. That's a lot.

"Wouldn't dream of it. I don't even babysit." The whole lot at once. They were all very capable young boys, and did not need a babysitter.

"I don't know, maybe a few of 'em could benefit from having a respectable role model in their life." She was by no means respectable or a role model. But she was still better than Fagin.

"Would you count me as a respectable role model?" he asks, partly curious and partly amused. He's never thought of himself as a role model type, content to go about his life without worrying about the impression he's leaving on younger people, just the impression he makes when he's networking. It's much different.

"Truthfully, anyone that ain't Fagin is a respectable role model for these boys." It was the sad truth. Not to say that Arthur was a terrible choice. He was a good one.

"I just want them to see there's other ways out there. Other people- good people." People that wouldn't rob you blind and then make you feel bad you didn't have enough for them. People that didn't haunt your nightmares and lurk behind every corner they came across.

"But you are, I'd like to say, a good role model. From what I know of you, you've got a good head on your shoulders, you're the decent sort, and a friend." What more could she ask for?

Arthur's never been particularly good at receiving compliments, so he bashfully looks down at his food. "I do try," he says, before taking another bite. After a beat, he asks, "you don't have to take care of them that often, do you?"

Nancy takes a moment to take a bite of fish, chewing over her answer quite literally. "It's not that, really. It's... They're all very capable young men. I just..." She hangs her head, fringe obscuring her eyes briefly.

"I want to be there for them. To make sure I can help them, let them know there's someone on their side. They're not my brothers by blood, most of them don't even consider me their sister at all. I... Don't want them to feel alone." It wasn't a good explanation, and she doubted she'd ever come up with a good one. But she loved them all and wanted to take care of them as much as she could.

Arthur frowns across the table at her, eyebrows knitting together in that thoughtful look he tends to get. He's reminded again how young Nancy is, that she still has so much left and she's bogged down by all this shit piled on to her just because of her upbringing.

"It's not all your responsibility to do that," he says. "It sounds simple and small but that can be a huge burden to bear."

Nancy was only nineteen, but her mind was older, these London Town streets get colder, she shoulders every burden, every disadvantaged she has learned to manage, she learned some magic, she walks the streets- and that's it.

But for that reason, it was easy to forget how young she was. Even she forgot, most of the time. Every day, she was dealing with things no one her age should have to, for as long as she had. But she carried on.

She shakes her head, putting down her fork and folding her hands together. "If it's not my responsibility, then who's is it?"

Arthur sighs as he tries to think of how to approach this. He doesn't want to be insensitive, and he shouldn't be butting into her personal life, but he worries about her.

"I'm not saying you can't be there for them when you can, I'm just saying each one of us only has so much to give. I would just hope that you're not beating yourself up for not being there for them when you can't."

Nancy looks at her hands, then back up to Arthur, through heavily-mascaraed eyes. "I try not to." But constantly, she couldn't help but think that she could stay with them, give them all of her money. Or take them away from Fagin completely.

"It's just that I've been through what they're going through." She exhales and looks away, bringing her wine up to drink. She took a drink, then looked back at Arthur. "Sorry- I don't really want to talk about this anymore." She'll just finish the glass.

Arthur shakes his head. "That's fine," he says, "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's alright," she promises him. "No harm, no foul. Now you best eat up, I don't want your food getting cold. I'm not too good at reheating." She waggles her finger-tips because sometimes magic is just more fun than turning on an oven.

Arthur chuckles softly and goes back to his meal in silence. He's always been poor at conversation, and clearly tonight is no different.

Food, Glorious Food (closed to Arthur)

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