[ And just like that, the bit of contact is gone. The loss of it strikes Juzo harder than he thought it would, especially since he's used to feeling uncomfortable at the mere notion of affectionate physical contact.
He almost misses the question, he's so distracted by it, staring down at his own palm until Sholmes calls to him. He curls his fingers and seems to shake himself out of his reverie, stepping into the kitchen with Sholmes. ]
Don't see why not. It's just stretchin' the rules a little bit, right?
[Sholmes does not acknowledge Juzo's moment of distraction, though it is impossible to know if he observed it or otherwise, even from a distance. Not letting on completely the things he notices, always seemingly focused on something else; he does it all the time.
Ah, a recipe book. He cracks it open and flips through the pages.]
[He halts his perusal through the book when Juzo's hand suddenly appears in his periphery, pointing out a relatively simple recipe: a layered chocolate cake with chocolate chips sprinkled along the top.
He peers up at Juzo, quirking a brow.]
Suitable, I think. Should we bake two? One for Mr Emmet... and one for ourselves!
[ Juzo is really going to try his best to make sure Sholmes doesn't turn this into a science experiment, so if that means he sticks close to the other man... well, there are worse things, probably. ]
[At some point, he tries to pour in way too much sugar, or way too much flour, or gets wholly distracted by something else in the diner— But with Juzo’s close attention, the man manages to keep the detective on task.
[ Juzo makes a little motion with his head that seems to suggest he's rolling his eyes. After snubbing out his cigarette, he grabs a clean dish towel and wets it with some water. ]
You're hopeless. C'mere.
[ He's just gonna start dabbing that chocolate out of the fabric. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He almost misses the question, he's so distracted by it, staring down at his own palm until Sholmes calls to him. He curls his fingers and seems to shake himself out of his reverie, stepping into the kitchen with Sholmes. ]
Don't see why not. It's just stretchin' the rules a little bit, right?
no subject
Ah, a recipe book. He cracks it open and flips through the pages.]
...I will count it. That is all that matters.
[Mr Bingo Square Authority here.]
no subject
[ He walks up behind Sholmes to peer over his shoulder. He snakes an arm around to point at some pages before the other man can flip by. ]
How about that one?
no subject
He peers up at Juzo, quirking a brow.]
Suitable, I think. Should we bake two? One for Mr Emmet... and one for ourselves!
no subject
That's an awful lot of baking. You sure?
no subject
Torture, that is what. I will not put myself through it willingly.
[Someone's sweet tooth will riot.]
no subject
Okay, okay. We're gonna end up spendin' the rest of the day in here, so I hope you're ready.
no subject
[Let the baking... BEGIN.]
no subject
no subject
They’ve made it to the batter stage.]
We can eat this now, can we not?
[impatient.]
no subject
[ Juzo is taking a small smoke break over in the corner by an open window. He's been good about keeping cigarette ash away from the food. ]
Besides, eatin' the batter isn't good for you.
no subject
Yes, but…
[He is mixing the batter. Very methodically, eying it. It is so very, very tempting.]
It would be bliss, if just for a moment or two.
no subject
I'm not your dad. I'm not gonna tell you what to do one way or another. But if you make yourself sick, I will say I told you so.
no subject
Looks at Juzo conspiratorially, as though still seeking his approval.]
Just one small taste.
no subject
no subject
A little bit of it drips onto the front of his tuxedo, though.]
Ah, blast… is what I would say if this batter was not magnificent and therefore worth the mess.
no subject
You're hopeless. C'mere.
[ He's just gonna start dabbing that chocolate out of the fabric. ]
no subject
Are you sure you don't want any?
[Waggles a still batter-smeared finger at him.]
no subject
Pass, thanks. I'd take your finger clean off.
no subject
But your loss, then, Mr Inui.
no subject
[ Well, he's mostly gotten the chocolate out of the front of the tux. He gives the fabric a little tug to straighten it back out. ]
You gonna keep this? It looks good on you.
no subject
[Somehow, the notion seems to surprise him a little. He glances down at his jacket, as though verifying what he's wearing.]
I could. I hardly know when I would wear it again, however, unless an opera house rises up from the ground itself.
no subject
Never know when a change of clothes might come in handy.
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)