[ Mick's currently none the wiser about this conversation, concerning himself with a pot of soup in their jury-rigged kitchen. He's not really the type to look too far ahead, but he's pretty content knowing most of the hot things they're charitably giving away are pretty cheap and freeze well. Someone rather smartly managed to get the heat gun off of his hip while company is expected; the bad news is he hadn't let it go too far. ]
Hold on. [ Not looking up from where he's stirring the brew, Mick holds up a hand towards Ray as he approaches. ] Where's your hairnet, Lunch Lad?
[ Ray stops before getting any closer, he's not gonna ruin Mick's soup. He's got stuff from Jon to bake bread, so he busies himself setting that aside and looking for everything else he needs for it. ]
I'm gonna try baking. Any requests?
[ He's not sure of how to start this conversation so, maybe starting with baked goods will make it go easier. ]
[ Hard to tell yet whether this is going to be a disaster, impressive, or an impressive disaster. Mick's trying to find a cue in Ray's confidence to tell him which he can expect. ]
[ Mick raps the spoon on the edge of the pot, perhaps a tinge chagrined. He technically wasn't supposed to still be stirring it but it was somewhat pacifying.
Now Ray seems to be asking for his full attention and the pyro gives it to him, crossing his arms over his chest. The soup spoon still sticks out under the crook of an elbow in one of his fists. ]
What's up?
[ It never seems like Palmer brings him any good news, so he's clearly armoring himself up. ]
[ The older man doesn't seem to agree; the only movement he makes is to turn and face Ray wherever he sits while Mick himself remains on his feet.
It's not hard to tell that his focus narrows when the other man announces their topic of discussion today. He hasn't forgotten; it's never been too far from his mind whenever he sees Snart talking with the other on his own or when Mick leaves them alone. It's one secret they've both refused to tell him and it's hard not to imagine there are others.
If he thought he'd moved past it, he corrects himself when he feels a surge that almost makes him bite the bait. But his eyes narrow, head twisting to look at Ray sidelong. ]
un: palmer | New Russian Spy
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Don't trust everything you hear, Raymond.
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Len, she's not the same person.
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He gives you his okay? I'll give you mine.
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Hold on. [ Not looking up from where he's stirring the brew, Mick holds up a hand towards Ray as he approaches. ] Where's your hairnet, Lunch Lad?
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I'm gonna try baking. Any requests?
[ He's not sure of how to start this conversation so, maybe starting with baked goods will make it go easier. ]
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Just to spectate.
[ Hard to tell yet whether this is going to be a disaster, impressive, or an impressive disaster. Mick's trying to find a cue in Ray's confidence to tell him which he can expect. ]
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I really miss the internet. [ He glances at Mick's soup. ] Are you done, I need to tell you something.
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[ Mick raps the spoon on the edge of the pot, perhaps a tinge chagrined. He technically wasn't supposed to still be stirring it but it was somewhat pacifying.
Now Ray seems to be asking for his full attention and the pyro gives it to him, crossing his arms over his chest. The soup spoon still sticks out under the crook of an elbow in one of his fists. ]
What's up?
[ It never seems like Palmer brings him any good news, so he's clearly armoring himself up. ]
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[ He finds a place to sit because this is probably a conversation best had while sitting. ]
And then you tried to scare me into telling you and I didn't? I'm telling you now. If you still wanna hear it.
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It's not hard to tell that his focus narrows when the other man announces their topic of discussion today. He hasn't forgotten; it's never been too far from his mind whenever he sees Snart talking with the other on his own or when Mick leaves them alone. It's one secret they've both refused to tell him and it's hard not to imagine there are others.
If he thought he'd moved past it, he corrects himself when he feels a surge that almost makes him bite the bait. But his eyes narrow, head twisting to look at Ray sidelong. ]
Why?
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