(no subject)
WARNING! Talk of masturbatory aids, chickens and poptarts. Read at your own risk.
Soft humming can be heard from the kitchen area as Bella flutters about on her tiptoes, spinning gracefully once as she pops a couple of s'more poptarts into the toaster. It seems that someone is in a good mood today! And who wouldn't be, things seem to finally be going right. And it's about damn time. The drama level has shrunk to a point where she no longer feels like ripping her hair out every two seconds.
Garbed in charcoal slacks and a collared shirt in pale blue, hair bound in a neat ponytail, Ellen looks more like an elegant escapee from a business casual environment than international terrorist recruit of any sort as she strides smoothly into the kitchen. Not that she would ever have worn anything other than a suit of some sort to the office, of course. She pauses just inside the kitchen, fingers laced in their habitual clasp behind her back. Thin brows lift at as her ears catch the humming, her mind hunting for an identification of the tune, but Ellen doesn't know much about music, as a general rule.
Bella hears the fall of footsteps but doesn't turn towards Ellen just yet. "Hello dear." She chimes in a far too happy voice to possibly fit anyone on the Island. And only moments after the humming begins anew. 'On My Own'. And unless Ellen is a Broadway fan, it's doubtful she'll recognize it. Seems someone's been listening to demo tapes again.
Ellen is, unfortunately, unfamiliar with most music that isn't classical, except for a casual flirtation with listening to some rock bands back in college that it is dubious she would admit to. Long-fingered hands slip loose of their clasp as she crosses the room to open the refrigerator. "Hello, Bella. I am glad to see you're well," is intoned, mild alto smooth and composed as ever. She braces against her arm against the open fridge door, bent over with the fingers of her other hand splayed on her hip.
Bella finally begins to turn, hopping up onto the counter, one leg crossing over the other. "Oh I'm doing very well actually. And you seem to be in good healthy. Always a plus!" She chatters, tilting back to rest her head against the cabinets. "Did you see the new fountain out front? Isn't it simply wonderful?"
Ellen glances away from the refrigerator and inclines her head to Bella, amusement sneaking into the blue-grey eyes for a brief gleam before her attention is returned to its contents. "I saw, yes." The fact that she is in habitual good health due to complete cellular control does not seem like it's worth mentioning; besides, the fountain is a more interesting topic than everybody's health. As she withdraws from the fridge, an egg balanced in either hand, she adds, "Quite appropriate, I thought."
You can have as much cellular control as you want, but talk to Creed the wrong way and you'll still lose a couple limbs. So seeing Ellen is good healthy, even knowing her abilities pleases Bella. "Very appropriate. Apparently they did that to the man the day we busted you guys out of jail. Then went back and got it as a surprise. Then they were sweet enough to set it up in the garden for everyone to enjoy!" She sighs happily and blinks as the toaster pops up. Her food is ready.
Ellen retrieves a small bowl from the cupboard and a fork from the drawer, cracks her eggs on the side, and begins beating them with a certain vigor. "That was very clever of them," she notes mildly, leaning against the counter not too far distant from Bella's perch. "Excellent morale booster."
Bella watches as she cracks the eggs and begins to stir them, an odd flicker lighting behind her eyes. "Have you ever just stuck your finger in there and played with you're foods cellular structure to see if you can change the taste? Or does what you're working with have to still be living?" she asks before getting back to the statue. "Oh yes, I thought so. Making it cry was a marvelous idea!" Out come the pop tarts as she curses how hot they are.
Blue-grey eyes flicker down to the eggs, a slow blink as she regards them as though she's never seen them for the first time. "Unfortunately my talents are restricted to living organisms," Ellen answers. She sets the bowl down on the counter, eggs beaten into submission, and tweaks a smallish Teflon pan from its cupboard, spinning it between her fingers for a moment before she sets it on the stove. "Such a fitting monument," she says. "I certainly approve."
Bella watches as Ellen looks down at the eggs and smiles to herself. "Ah well. It would have been a fun experiment otherwise. Perhaps I'll bring a few live chickens home tomorrow for you to work with then we can cook them up and test the results?" She offers, liking the idea personally. "Who wouldn't? It's a true masterpiece!"
Ellen cants her head slightly to one side, a slight lift to one brow as she considers the prospect. "It would be an interesting experiment, to say the least," she answers; sure enough, the light of interest flickers into her expression, leaving her seem more engaged, rather than withdrawn. "If you would acquire the chickens, I would be delighted to attempt it."
Bella waits to see the woman's reaction, pleased as it seems to draw Ellen out of her shell a bit, atleast in regards to her expression. "I'm glad you approve." She's not sure exactly where the inspiration came from. But when it hits, it hits. "If it's successful I can bring you other livestock to work on if you chose. And perhaps a human or to. Though I'm afraid that would probably only feed me." As nobody else really eats people here.
Ellen lights the gas range beneath her pan and pours her eggs into it, wielding her spatula like a weapon. She smiles, faintly, as she returns her attention from meal preparation to the task she's been set. "I suppose it depends on the success of this experiment," she answers. "I am uncertain as to ... what cellular alterations would result in which changes in taste. Do you think you could provide me with some live herb plants as well?" Jabaneiros would not go amiss, for example. Or parsley. "That I might examine them?"
Bella begins to break apart her pop tart, legs swinging from side to side as her eyes narrow. "I'm not entirely sure it would either, but everything is worth a shot atleast once in a lifetime. And if it works then.. yay for us." They'll have better, or atleast different tasting foods. "Live herb plants? I don't see why not. Just make me a list and I'll be happy to pick some up for you. I'd offer you a space in my garden out front, but I'm afraid Creed likes to tear it up often. So it's probably not the best idea."
"Excellent." Ellen pauses to clear her throat, a shifty glance flung round the kitchen as though expecting someone to leap out at her from the shadows at any instant. Then she raises her glance back to Bella again. Low-voiced, but still extremely bland of tone, because to be otherwise would to offer a hint as to what she is about to ask for: "Well - ah. As long as I am ... requesting requisitions ..." Well, too late to back out now, isn't it? Damn.
Bella notices the shifty glance and chuckles to herself, leaning forward as the woman's voice dips lower. Not that she could hear the woman from across the room, but still. "Oh don't chicken out now. It isn't as though you've ever asked for anything before. Besides, if there's anyone to ask for a favor. It's me. I'm the nice one." She winks. Then remembers that Ellen witnessed that whole thing with Thomas. "So long as you're respectful that it."
Hands flip neatly to their customary clasp behind her back, feet drawn together with a click of her heels; it seems closing off her body language makes this request a little easier to get out, though it does make it all the more apparently ridiculous, a fact which of Ellen is well aware but is attempting to summarily ignore. "I was wondering if I might possibly be supplied with an item of a personal nature." Brisk, cool. No more beating around the bush. So to speak. Dear gods. Extreme delicacy in tone and words: "Such as a ... masturbatory aid."
Coffee. It's always coffee that drives Erik's even footfalls in this direction, the metallic sheen of the thermos gripped loosely in his left hand evidence that this visit to the kitchens is no different than any other. Deep red sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows, cuffs and collar open, black trousers still bearing faint fold creases, he looks to be in decent (if slightly tired) shape when he steps in, brows already knit against the light transition from hall to kitchen.
Bella blinks, the surprise is evident but very quickly wiped away. Well sure.. why wouldn't someone come to the ex-succubus for a need like that. "Well hell honey, why'd you wait so long? You must be dying!" Good lord how long has this woman been on the island? "Of course why do it yourself when you can get someone else to help you with it?" She asks. "The tongue is a mighty lubricant in and of itself darling, and I'd be more than willing to help you out in that department." A lewd wink as Bella's face breaks into a seductive smile. "But if you prefer handling the job yourself I can arrange something. Any particular brand you're fond of?" She has no shame. "Erik!" She calls out a moment or two before he even steps into the room, a preemptive warning to Ellen. "How are you dear? There's not coffee at the moment would you like me to make you some?" Innocent beam!
A faint smirk twitches the corners of Ellen's mouth at the offer, accompanied by a tilt of her head. But whatever remark she might have made is forestalled by the announcement of Erik's name. Blue-grey eyes go very wide; she balances quite pale, posture snapping even straighter - which is somewhat difficult. "Umm." She is somewhat ... less efficient ... with the covering than is Bella. It's not a topic on which she's used to having to converse, after all.
Magneto gives Bella a bit of an odd look at having himself announced, returning her...rather exuberant greeting with a slow nod before he glances down to set his empty thermos aside on the counter. Ellen is next in line for a stare, cold eyes searching lazily over the palor of her face before they shift back to Sabella. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Bella glances at Ellen and winks, a signal that they can talk about that particular subject later. "Of course you are my dear. But you wouldn't want to hear about our womanly ways anyway, it ruins the mystique." She flips her hair over her shoulder and hops off of the counter, standing on her tip toes to kiss his cheek before prancing by to start making coffee.
Is that abject terror in the round-eyed stare flung Magneto's way? Well, not /quite/. More like ... deep mortification. Scrambled eggs cooking quietly in their frying pan, one might note, have been completely forgotten. Ellen seems to have forgotten how to talk, though an apt lip-reader and speaker of German might note that the movement of her mouth forms a not entirely unimaginative profanity.
Magneto's brows flatten a bit at the kiss, faint annoyance at the cuteness of her reply and the prancing finding its way into his bland glare just in time for it to turn back to Ellen. Whatever he sees is enough to prompt a subtle dip of his chin and an arched brow. "I wasn't aware that there -was- a mystique."
"If you must know darling, we were talking about my latest period, it was a little late and Ellen here was helping me think of reasons why. Because I'm obviously not pregnant, that couldn't happen without my express knowledge before hand." Bella reaches over to pat Ellen's shoulder. Stop looking so mortified woman, you're blowing your cover. "But I'm afraid you interrupted and mortified our dear friends Ellen because who wants to talk about that in front of their fearless leader." She smiles an all too sweet smile and sticks a new filter in the machine. "And there's a mystique. The women on the island are just too damn cool to bother with it."
Ellen breathes a short breath through her nose, a sound that is not /quite/ a snort of shock. She clears her throat. "I, ah." A slow blink; there's only so far that instinctive honesty can take one. "I suppose I ... forgot the public nature of the venue," she answers, only a slight tremor to her voice behind its customary composure. "I am not used to discussing women's complaints where a man can hear." She is old-fashioned that way. Also - dear gods. Discussing masturbation in front of Magneto? Can she just die now, please?
Well, that certainly did the trick. Erik's brows shoot skyward as he turns his shoulders and gaze from Ellen to Bella, faint bafflement written out in the lines around his mouth as he eyes the younger of the two women. "Could be stress." His hand finds its way back onto the counter to nudge against his thermos, a glance cast back towards Ellen at her contribution. "The women around here complain a lot. I'm sure you will eventually get used to it."
Bella glances back just in time to see that look on Erik's face. She grins and turns back to the coffee machine with a look of pride that's hidden from anyone else's view. Woohoo, she surprised him! She should play this game more often. "That's the conclusion we'd come to as well. I have been through an awful lot lately." Bella states over her shoulder, dutifully ignoring Erik's /last/ comment.
Ellen's expression quirks into something reflecting mild rue. Remembering the spatula in her hand, she pokes at eggs already approaching unsalvageable with it. "Yes, well," she says, though she does not find it very likely that /her/ particular women's complaint is something she'll really ever want to be discussing in mixed company. "The reproductive system does have its little quirks." Not that she couldn't regulate her own or anyone else's with the touch of skin to skin and a little concentration, but it would likely be impolitic to bring this up at the moment.
"Mmm." Opting for ambiguity in the face of a potential extension of this particular line of conversation while he's in the room, Erik directs his attention and his movements towards the refrigerator - the freezer side tugged open with his left hand. Cold eyes flick from top shelf to bottom, and the door is closed. The other is opened, and the process repeats itself. Apparently he isn't hungry after all.
Bella herself wouldn't need Ellen's help in that department. Her uterus is just fine thank you very much, and has been since she was fifteen years old. But they needed some sort of excuse, and Bella was more than willing to offer up her reproductive organs to save Ellen from any further mortification. A glance towards Erik. "I have a spare S'more pop tart next to the half eaten one on the counter." She offers and dumps the water in. Now they just have to wait for it to brew. "Oh. I think we'll be having chicken for dinner tomorrow night dear, so try not to fill up before hand." She informs him, shooting a wink in Ellen's direction.
Ellen blinks a few times to herself, shaking her head ever-so-slightly as she turns off the gas range and then scrapes the contents of her pan onto a plate. Not the prettiest eggs ever, but at least it's protein. "Chicken," she echoes mildly, a sidelong glance in Bella's direction, "of sorts." The slightest of pink flushes has crept into her cheeks - possibly at the utter surreality of the situation, as far as she's concerned - as she slides pan into sink and leans against the counter with her plate.
Erik, his hand still on the refrigerator door handle, catches the wink, and turns his head enough to follow it back to Ellen - but by this point, there's really no reason to pursue whatever the two of them are up to. He's already tried that once today, and look what it got him. Bella's offered poptart gets a glance, and a snub, his back turning to it and the rest of the counter as he folds his arms across his chest and settles back against it.
Bella watches with mild amusement as Erik disregard the poptart. And people call her a drama queen. "The poptart is official snubbed, darling." She assures him at his haughty behavior as the slow trickle of coffee begins to drop. She giggles and makes her way back towards the poptart to pull apart a piece of it and pop it into her mouth. "Of sorts." She agrees with Ellen and continues to shoot big, innocent eyes in Magneto's direction.
Ellen's eggs are not the height of delectability, but they do give her something to do with mouth and hands that is likely to result in less humiliation than speaking. Chew. Swallow. Simple tasks. She has nothing to say on the matter of pop tarts, though she in the past has regarded them as not actual food. Conversation ... dying, dying, dead. Ordinarily this would not be a concern, but she feels somewhat remiss in this aspect at the moment, for some reason. Setting unfinished food down, she drums her fingers against her hip. "Should I email you the list of requisitions, Bella? I think I should like to use a live potato in our experiment as well."
A sidelong look shot dryly after Sabella, Erik turns his head to focus lazily back upon Ellen. Or, more accurately, her effort to stir some semblance of conversation back to life - rather pointedly ignoring what is quite clearly feigned innocence on Bella's part.
Bella glances towards Ellen with wide eyes, dirty thoughts just strolling right through her brain as a wicked gleam lights behind green eyes. "Is the potato we'll be experimenting with in regards to our first conversation, or our second, Darling?" she asks and peels into laughter, before shaking a hand, asking for silent forgiveness as she can't quite form the words over giggles. It's another moment or so before she finds her composure. "Yes yes. An email will do just fine. I'll get on it right away. Lord knows I need to." Another smirk.
Ellen stares blankly at Bella for a moment as an active imagination attempts to ascertain just exactly /how/ one would accomplish such a purpose with a potato. "Er," she says, "the first." Ellen cannot emphasize this enough. "Um ... /Definitely/ the first." Owl-eyed for a moment, her glance slides to meet Erik's, at which point the flush in her cheeks reawakens and her eyes slip hurriedly away.
Magneto says nothing. Considering what he believes the second conversation to have been about, this is hardly surprising, really. His expression even remains even. A little bored, until he catches that last flush and slip, and rolls his glare pointedly back to Bella, the faintest of smirks mirroring her own - the near undetectable narrowing of his eyes contributing to a look that's decidedly...rather smug.
Bella watches the wheels spinning in Ellen's mind. "Oh it can be done." She assures in regards to potatoes and that second conversation. "But that'll be a lesson for another day." She promises and grabs the rest of her poptart. She twirls assuming Erik can pour the coffee whenever it's done. She pauses for a moment to narrow her eyes at the look on Erik's face. "That look had better not have anything to do with that parting conversation we had last night." She warns and huffs, shoulders rolling back in a dignified fashion before she glides from the room. "Gooood niiiiight!" Called back to the kitchen.
This is where I go to sleeeeeep, so check Ellen or Magneto's journals for the rest!
Soft humming can be heard from the kitchen area as Bella flutters about on her tiptoes, spinning gracefully once as she pops a couple of s'more poptarts into the toaster. It seems that someone is in a good mood today! And who wouldn't be, things seem to finally be going right. And it's about damn time. The drama level has shrunk to a point where she no longer feels like ripping her hair out every two seconds.
Garbed in charcoal slacks and a collared shirt in pale blue, hair bound in a neat ponytail, Ellen looks more like an elegant escapee from a business casual environment than international terrorist recruit of any sort as she strides smoothly into the kitchen. Not that she would ever have worn anything other than a suit of some sort to the office, of course. She pauses just inside the kitchen, fingers laced in their habitual clasp behind her back. Thin brows lift at as her ears catch the humming, her mind hunting for an identification of the tune, but Ellen doesn't know much about music, as a general rule.
Bella hears the fall of footsteps but doesn't turn towards Ellen just yet. "Hello dear." She chimes in a far too happy voice to possibly fit anyone on the Island. And only moments after the humming begins anew. 'On My Own'. And unless Ellen is a Broadway fan, it's doubtful she'll recognize it. Seems someone's been listening to demo tapes again.
Ellen is, unfortunately, unfamiliar with most music that isn't classical, except for a casual flirtation with listening to some rock bands back in college that it is dubious she would admit to. Long-fingered hands slip loose of their clasp as she crosses the room to open the refrigerator. "Hello, Bella. I am glad to see you're well," is intoned, mild alto smooth and composed as ever. She braces against her arm against the open fridge door, bent over with the fingers of her other hand splayed on her hip.
Bella finally begins to turn, hopping up onto the counter, one leg crossing over the other. "Oh I'm doing very well actually. And you seem to be in good healthy. Always a plus!" She chatters, tilting back to rest her head against the cabinets. "Did you see the new fountain out front? Isn't it simply wonderful?"
Ellen glances away from the refrigerator and inclines her head to Bella, amusement sneaking into the blue-grey eyes for a brief gleam before her attention is returned to its contents. "I saw, yes." The fact that she is in habitual good health due to complete cellular control does not seem like it's worth mentioning; besides, the fountain is a more interesting topic than everybody's health. As she withdraws from the fridge, an egg balanced in either hand, she adds, "Quite appropriate, I thought."
You can have as much cellular control as you want, but talk to Creed the wrong way and you'll still lose a couple limbs. So seeing Ellen is good healthy, even knowing her abilities pleases Bella. "Very appropriate. Apparently they did that to the man the day we busted you guys out of jail. Then went back and got it as a surprise. Then they were sweet enough to set it up in the garden for everyone to enjoy!" She sighs happily and blinks as the toaster pops up. Her food is ready.
Ellen retrieves a small bowl from the cupboard and a fork from the drawer, cracks her eggs on the side, and begins beating them with a certain vigor. "That was very clever of them," she notes mildly, leaning against the counter not too far distant from Bella's perch. "Excellent morale booster."
Bella watches as she cracks the eggs and begins to stir them, an odd flicker lighting behind her eyes. "Have you ever just stuck your finger in there and played with you're foods cellular structure to see if you can change the taste? Or does what you're working with have to still be living?" she asks before getting back to the statue. "Oh yes, I thought so. Making it cry was a marvelous idea!" Out come the pop tarts as she curses how hot they are.
Blue-grey eyes flicker down to the eggs, a slow blink as she regards them as though she's never seen them for the first time. "Unfortunately my talents are restricted to living organisms," Ellen answers. She sets the bowl down on the counter, eggs beaten into submission, and tweaks a smallish Teflon pan from its cupboard, spinning it between her fingers for a moment before she sets it on the stove. "Such a fitting monument," she says. "I certainly approve."
Bella watches as Ellen looks down at the eggs and smiles to herself. "Ah well. It would have been a fun experiment otherwise. Perhaps I'll bring a few live chickens home tomorrow for you to work with then we can cook them up and test the results?" She offers, liking the idea personally. "Who wouldn't? It's a true masterpiece!"
Ellen cants her head slightly to one side, a slight lift to one brow as she considers the prospect. "It would be an interesting experiment, to say the least," she answers; sure enough, the light of interest flickers into her expression, leaving her seem more engaged, rather than withdrawn. "If you would acquire the chickens, I would be delighted to attempt it."
Bella waits to see the woman's reaction, pleased as it seems to draw Ellen out of her shell a bit, atleast in regards to her expression. "I'm glad you approve." She's not sure exactly where the inspiration came from. But when it hits, it hits. "If it's successful I can bring you other livestock to work on if you chose. And perhaps a human or to. Though I'm afraid that would probably only feed me." As nobody else really eats people here.
Ellen lights the gas range beneath her pan and pours her eggs into it, wielding her spatula like a weapon. She smiles, faintly, as she returns her attention from meal preparation to the task she's been set. "I suppose it depends on the success of this experiment," she answers. "I am uncertain as to ... what cellular alterations would result in which changes in taste. Do you think you could provide me with some live herb plants as well?" Jabaneiros would not go amiss, for example. Or parsley. "That I might examine them?"
Bella begins to break apart her pop tart, legs swinging from side to side as her eyes narrow. "I'm not entirely sure it would either, but everything is worth a shot atleast once in a lifetime. And if it works then.. yay for us." They'll have better, or atleast different tasting foods. "Live herb plants? I don't see why not. Just make me a list and I'll be happy to pick some up for you. I'd offer you a space in my garden out front, but I'm afraid Creed likes to tear it up often. So it's probably not the best idea."
"Excellent." Ellen pauses to clear her throat, a shifty glance flung round the kitchen as though expecting someone to leap out at her from the shadows at any instant. Then she raises her glance back to Bella again. Low-voiced, but still extremely bland of tone, because to be otherwise would to offer a hint as to what she is about to ask for: "Well - ah. As long as I am ... requesting requisitions ..." Well, too late to back out now, isn't it? Damn.
Bella notices the shifty glance and chuckles to herself, leaning forward as the woman's voice dips lower. Not that she could hear the woman from across the room, but still. "Oh don't chicken out now. It isn't as though you've ever asked for anything before. Besides, if there's anyone to ask for a favor. It's me. I'm the nice one." She winks. Then remembers that Ellen witnessed that whole thing with Thomas. "So long as you're respectful that it."
Hands flip neatly to their customary clasp behind her back, feet drawn together with a click of her heels; it seems closing off her body language makes this request a little easier to get out, though it does make it all the more apparently ridiculous, a fact which of Ellen is well aware but is attempting to summarily ignore. "I was wondering if I might possibly be supplied with an item of a personal nature." Brisk, cool. No more beating around the bush. So to speak. Dear gods. Extreme delicacy in tone and words: "Such as a ... masturbatory aid."
Coffee. It's always coffee that drives Erik's even footfalls in this direction, the metallic sheen of the thermos gripped loosely in his left hand evidence that this visit to the kitchens is no different than any other. Deep red sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows, cuffs and collar open, black trousers still bearing faint fold creases, he looks to be in decent (if slightly tired) shape when he steps in, brows already knit against the light transition from hall to kitchen.
Bella blinks, the surprise is evident but very quickly wiped away. Well sure.. why wouldn't someone come to the ex-succubus for a need like that. "Well hell honey, why'd you wait so long? You must be dying!" Good lord how long has this woman been on the island? "Of course why do it yourself when you can get someone else to help you with it?" She asks. "The tongue is a mighty lubricant in and of itself darling, and I'd be more than willing to help you out in that department." A lewd wink as Bella's face breaks into a seductive smile. "But if you prefer handling the job yourself I can arrange something. Any particular brand you're fond of?" She has no shame. "Erik!" She calls out a moment or two before he even steps into the room, a preemptive warning to Ellen. "How are you dear? There's not coffee at the moment would you like me to make you some?" Innocent beam!
A faint smirk twitches the corners of Ellen's mouth at the offer, accompanied by a tilt of her head. But whatever remark she might have made is forestalled by the announcement of Erik's name. Blue-grey eyes go very wide; she balances quite pale, posture snapping even straighter - which is somewhat difficult. "Umm." She is somewhat ... less efficient ... with the covering than is Bella. It's not a topic on which she's used to having to converse, after all.
Magneto gives Bella a bit of an odd look at having himself announced, returning her...rather exuberant greeting with a slow nod before he glances down to set his empty thermos aside on the counter. Ellen is next in line for a stare, cold eyes searching lazily over the palor of her face before they shift back to Sabella. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Bella glances at Ellen and winks, a signal that they can talk about that particular subject later. "Of course you are my dear. But you wouldn't want to hear about our womanly ways anyway, it ruins the mystique." She flips her hair over her shoulder and hops off of the counter, standing on her tip toes to kiss his cheek before prancing by to start making coffee.
Is that abject terror in the round-eyed stare flung Magneto's way? Well, not /quite/. More like ... deep mortification. Scrambled eggs cooking quietly in their frying pan, one might note, have been completely forgotten. Ellen seems to have forgotten how to talk, though an apt lip-reader and speaker of German might note that the movement of her mouth forms a not entirely unimaginative profanity.
Magneto's brows flatten a bit at the kiss, faint annoyance at the cuteness of her reply and the prancing finding its way into his bland glare just in time for it to turn back to Ellen. Whatever he sees is enough to prompt a subtle dip of his chin and an arched brow. "I wasn't aware that there -was- a mystique."
"If you must know darling, we were talking about my latest period, it was a little late and Ellen here was helping me think of reasons why. Because I'm obviously not pregnant, that couldn't happen without my express knowledge before hand." Bella reaches over to pat Ellen's shoulder. Stop looking so mortified woman, you're blowing your cover. "But I'm afraid you interrupted and mortified our dear friends Ellen because who wants to talk about that in front of their fearless leader." She smiles an all too sweet smile and sticks a new filter in the machine. "And there's a mystique. The women on the island are just too damn cool to bother with it."
Ellen breathes a short breath through her nose, a sound that is not /quite/ a snort of shock. She clears her throat. "I, ah." A slow blink; there's only so far that instinctive honesty can take one. "I suppose I ... forgot the public nature of the venue," she answers, only a slight tremor to her voice behind its customary composure. "I am not used to discussing women's complaints where a man can hear." She is old-fashioned that way. Also - dear gods. Discussing masturbation in front of Magneto? Can she just die now, please?
Well, that certainly did the trick. Erik's brows shoot skyward as he turns his shoulders and gaze from Ellen to Bella, faint bafflement written out in the lines around his mouth as he eyes the younger of the two women. "Could be stress." His hand finds its way back onto the counter to nudge against his thermos, a glance cast back towards Ellen at her contribution. "The women around here complain a lot. I'm sure you will eventually get used to it."
Bella glances back just in time to see that look on Erik's face. She grins and turns back to the coffee machine with a look of pride that's hidden from anyone else's view. Woohoo, she surprised him! She should play this game more often. "That's the conclusion we'd come to as well. I have been through an awful lot lately." Bella states over her shoulder, dutifully ignoring Erik's /last/ comment.
Ellen's expression quirks into something reflecting mild rue. Remembering the spatula in her hand, she pokes at eggs already approaching unsalvageable with it. "Yes, well," she says, though she does not find it very likely that /her/ particular women's complaint is something she'll really ever want to be discussing in mixed company. "The reproductive system does have its little quirks." Not that she couldn't regulate her own or anyone else's with the touch of skin to skin and a little concentration, but it would likely be impolitic to bring this up at the moment.
"Mmm." Opting for ambiguity in the face of a potential extension of this particular line of conversation while he's in the room, Erik directs his attention and his movements towards the refrigerator - the freezer side tugged open with his left hand. Cold eyes flick from top shelf to bottom, and the door is closed. The other is opened, and the process repeats itself. Apparently he isn't hungry after all.
Bella herself wouldn't need Ellen's help in that department. Her uterus is just fine thank you very much, and has been since she was fifteen years old. But they needed some sort of excuse, and Bella was more than willing to offer up her reproductive organs to save Ellen from any further mortification. A glance towards Erik. "I have a spare S'more pop tart next to the half eaten one on the counter." She offers and dumps the water in. Now they just have to wait for it to brew. "Oh. I think we'll be having chicken for dinner tomorrow night dear, so try not to fill up before hand." She informs him, shooting a wink in Ellen's direction.
Ellen blinks a few times to herself, shaking her head ever-so-slightly as she turns off the gas range and then scrapes the contents of her pan onto a plate. Not the prettiest eggs ever, but at least it's protein. "Chicken," she echoes mildly, a sidelong glance in Bella's direction, "of sorts." The slightest of pink flushes has crept into her cheeks - possibly at the utter surreality of the situation, as far as she's concerned - as she slides pan into sink and leans against the counter with her plate.
Erik, his hand still on the refrigerator door handle, catches the wink, and turns his head enough to follow it back to Ellen - but by this point, there's really no reason to pursue whatever the two of them are up to. He's already tried that once today, and look what it got him. Bella's offered poptart gets a glance, and a snub, his back turning to it and the rest of the counter as he folds his arms across his chest and settles back against it.
Bella watches with mild amusement as Erik disregard the poptart. And people call her a drama queen. "The poptart is official snubbed, darling." She assures him at his haughty behavior as the slow trickle of coffee begins to drop. She giggles and makes her way back towards the poptart to pull apart a piece of it and pop it into her mouth. "Of sorts." She agrees with Ellen and continues to shoot big, innocent eyes in Magneto's direction.
Ellen's eggs are not the height of delectability, but they do give her something to do with mouth and hands that is likely to result in less humiliation than speaking. Chew. Swallow. Simple tasks. She has nothing to say on the matter of pop tarts, though she in the past has regarded them as not actual food. Conversation ... dying, dying, dead. Ordinarily this would not be a concern, but she feels somewhat remiss in this aspect at the moment, for some reason. Setting unfinished food down, she drums her fingers against her hip. "Should I email you the list of requisitions, Bella? I think I should like to use a live potato in our experiment as well."
A sidelong look shot dryly after Sabella, Erik turns his head to focus lazily back upon Ellen. Or, more accurately, her effort to stir some semblance of conversation back to life - rather pointedly ignoring what is quite clearly feigned innocence on Bella's part.
Bella glances towards Ellen with wide eyes, dirty thoughts just strolling right through her brain as a wicked gleam lights behind green eyes. "Is the potato we'll be experimenting with in regards to our first conversation, or our second, Darling?" she asks and peels into laughter, before shaking a hand, asking for silent forgiveness as she can't quite form the words over giggles. It's another moment or so before she finds her composure. "Yes yes. An email will do just fine. I'll get on it right away. Lord knows I need to." Another smirk.
Ellen stares blankly at Bella for a moment as an active imagination attempts to ascertain just exactly /how/ one would accomplish such a purpose with a potato. "Er," she says, "the first." Ellen cannot emphasize this enough. "Um ... /Definitely/ the first." Owl-eyed for a moment, her glance slides to meet Erik's, at which point the flush in her cheeks reawakens and her eyes slip hurriedly away.
Magneto says nothing. Considering what he believes the second conversation to have been about, this is hardly surprising, really. His expression even remains even. A little bored, until he catches that last flush and slip, and rolls his glare pointedly back to Bella, the faintest of smirks mirroring her own - the near undetectable narrowing of his eyes contributing to a look that's decidedly...rather smug.
Bella watches the wheels spinning in Ellen's mind. "Oh it can be done." She assures in regards to potatoes and that second conversation. "But that'll be a lesson for another day." She promises and grabs the rest of her poptart. She twirls assuming Erik can pour the coffee whenever it's done. She pauses for a moment to narrow her eyes at the look on Erik's face. "That look had better not have anything to do with that parting conversation we had last night." She warns and huffs, shoulders rolling back in a dignified fashion before she glides from the room. "Gooood niiiiight!" Called back to the kitchen.
This is where I go to sleeeeeep, so check Ellen or Magneto's journals for the rest!