everyone_takes | (no subject)

"We can do this," Kate says, standing at the kitchen counter, ingredients spread out around her in a haphazard manner. There's too much stuff here, she thinks, she can't remember Marshall ever using this much stuff just to bake, but she's got all the ingredients the recipe calls for.

Of course, she's really not the type to bake, normally, but lately she feels like she wants to do things that she normally doesn't do. No matter what, she feels shitty. Marshall's still gone. There are people around her, people who love her and who are trying, but she doesn't know how to feel better. What she wants, more than anything, is to just sleep for a week, but if she does that, she doesn't know who's going to take care of the two of them.

"Right?" she asks, looking at Effy. She's coaxed her into the kitchen today with the promise of brownies, although now that she's here, she isn't sure they're going to be any good. This is really Marshall's area of expertise and she's pretty sure she's going to butcher them. But maybe that's why she's doing it, just to remind her of all the things he did for her, all the things she can't do herself.

Because she can't. She's really lost without him and she doesn't know how to say it or how to ask for help, because she's never needed help before. She's always had Marshall and he's always had her. It's how they've gotten through life. Now she's alone.

"So there's butter and flour and, uh... baking soda? Or baking powder? Fuck, I can't remember." And she'd consult the book, but her hands are already covered in crap. She really has no idea how he managed to do this so well and always stay clean. Probably why he always wore those super gay aprons.

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At the question, Effy reaches inside and nudges the bag of pot until it falls onto the counter, a few leaves falling free of the burlap bag. Whether or not she wants to use the leaves, Effy doesn't know— hardly feels qualified to make any decisions at all these days, let alone something like this. It's easier to do nothing. To leave the drugs behind fully, and with them, whatever amount of blame they might carry for driving her to this point, feeling as though she's constantly splintering down the middle. Instead, she reaches out for the bowl in Kate's hands, taking a detour over to the sink to wash her hands.

It's always been easier to use her hands. Perhaps Pandora's mother wouldn't approve, but of all the people Effy feels indebted to, Pandora's mother might be at the very bottom of the list.

Neglectful like the rest of them.

"Oh." That's all Kate says at first, because while she sees it and wants to smoke it all right now, she knows that Effy hasn't touched drugs in a long time, that she burned all the stuff she had on the beach. All of it except this, apparently, and she wonders if it belongs to Effy at all or if it's someone else's stash. And if it's Effy's, she wonders if there's anymore, any other little hiding places all over the island where she has something like this.

"You want me to get rid of it?" she asks, because as much as she thinks she could use a joint right now, she isn't about to ask Effy to do something like that. Kate can be a shitty person sometimes, she knows this, and she doesn't deny it, but there's a line somewhere. One that she's not willing to cross and wherever else it goes, it's right here. If she doesn't want anything to do with drugs anymore, Kate sure as hell isn't going to force her or even tempt her with it.

"I can find someone to take it," she says. "Or like, dump it down the toilet."

There are words that form easily on her tongue today. That's one of the things about speaking; it's infectious, it's easy, it's quick. Learning how to speak is one of the most intoxicating things that Effy's ever experienced, made all the more so thanks to the years upon years during which she fought against it. She knows what she'd say, were she able, that Kate should take it. The spliff was never the biggest problem, not really. It was running away from life, sure, but it wasn't the same as the pills, or the alcohol. It didn't make her see things, it simply laid upon the world a shadow which muted everything underneath.

There's probably little danger to be found in that.

But as always, Effy finds herself second-guessing. The power of a word or two can't be overstated. And the more she thinks about it, the more she knows, everything would be okay, everything, had she never spoken at all.

Tony would have fixed himself up anyway. Tony would have... taken longer to get on the phone, Tony wouldn't have chosen that day to call Chelle, Tony wouldn't have— and then Effy wouldn't have— and Freddie would still be alive.

So Effy shrugs, because she can't be the one to make the choices anymore. That's too much.

There's a bit of a hesitation while Kate tries to figure out what to do with it. Effy isn't going to tell her, but she doesn't know if keeping it is the right decision or if she really should just flush it. Either way, whatever she decides, she'll have to take it now and so she reaches out and takes the bag, tucking it into the pocket of her shorts. She'll figure out what to do with it later. It doesn't matter right now, not if she gets it out of sight, anyway.

Out of sight, out of mind. That's sort of how Kate's worked her entire life.

"I greased the pan," she says, turning back toward it on the counter. "If you want to put the brownies in there, then we can bake them and I'll cross my fingers that they're edible."

The silence on Kate's end is telling. It doesn't last terribly long, Kate always able to pick herself up faster than Effy feels that she's ever been capable of, but it's a stilted pause that leaves Effy wondering what else she should be doing. Something, surely, and she glances down at the brownie batter, then towards the pan, trying to figure out what she might have done back in the day.

Back when a single smile was able to disarm just about anyone in sight.

That smile doesn't work its way onto her lips so easily, but other actions come easier. Briefly, Effy skims two fingers into the batter, licking her middle finger off to check, then holding out the index for Kate with a raised brow.

Kate lifts her eyebrows back, but she's smiling a little as she does, then leans forward to taste the offered batter. It's not terrible, which is good, and she doesn't seem like she's about to choke on it and neither does Effy, which are also good signs. She has no idea why she's so invested in these stupid brownies, so insistent that they be made right, but she is. If they end up completely fucked up, she's going to be disappointed and not even completely understand why.

"I think they'll be okay," she says, shoulders rising in a brief shrug. "I mean, it tastes... like I think brownies are supposed to taste. Oh, shit," she adds, turning toward the oven. "I didn't preheat it. I don't even know how hot it's supposed to be. These are all things Marshall would just know to do."

Effy pauses then, unsure exactly what temperature to use. She's used a few key temperatures before, she remembers, but can't seem to figure out in the moment which of those were for dessert baking and which were for pizza, or if it's okay to exchange the one with the other. Staring at the dials gives her no immediate answer; nothing pops out as right or wrong. Tilting her head, Effy reaches to the back of the oven and switches on the light, tugging open the oven door and planting herself on the ground next to it.

Rubbing her hand against her jaw, Effy tilts her head in the direction of the oven.

Fuck it, she's tempted to say. What's the worst that can happen with brownies? Maybe just a bit fucking burnt, and that's fine. Hardly anything at all.

Kate laughs, although she isn't exactly sure why, mostly because Effy seems as confused as she is about what temperature to set the oven at. It makes it seem like it's not such a big deal -- which it isn't, really, she's just being weirdly sensitive about the stupidest things lately -- and she leans against the counter for a second, trying to remember.

"Maybe three-fifty?" she guesses, figuring if it's wrong, they can just bake it for longer or for less time or whatever it takes to make sure they're not a mess. "I think it said something like that. Three-fifty for half an hour and if they're rock hard burned pucks then I'll just give them to Danny and Jeff and pretend it's a super nice present and if they tell me they're gross, they'll be hurting my feelings," she says, grinning. The both of them would probably eat the brownies just to avoid upsetting her, she thinks, which probably means she shouldn't give them to them.

It's not much, but she smiles, the expression feeling so unfamiliar that her cheeks immediately ache with the effort. It may take less muscles to smile than it does to frown, but it takes even less to even that expression out to nothing at all. Her cheeks prickle with the movement, and Effy blinks her eyes a couple of times, as though trying to see if the world looks different for that brief, tentative step forward she's taken.

No doubt it'll be taken from her at some point again, a voice warns.

But... there was nothing else to do for it.

Just smile, because with everything else that changes around her, it seems like Kate hasn't really at all.